An hour ticks by. The speeches seem to drag and speed past at the same time. We hear from several of Evan's friends from the drama club. It sounds like they were the people closest to him, each giving a short speech about how Evan was such a great friend and always knew how to cheer them up, make life fun. My concentration zones in and out. One moment, I'm hearing a friend grieving over loss, the next, I'm plunged into bottomless thoughts, endless rumination.

Is this all my fault?

How could I have done this?

Only the final speech catches my attention. A boy named Pierce Nevellen strides onto the stage, wearing a pinstripe suit. He stands straighter than the others, exudes a relaxed confidence as he strides to the podium. His presence consumes the stage, opposed to the previous speakers who seemed to shrink into the shadows, swallowed by grief.

"Good afternoon." His deep voice, far deeper than it should be for a teenager, rumbles through the microphone. Though his face is solemn, tears seem to glitter in his eyes under the bright, fluorescent lights. "It seems crazy to me that just a week and a half ago, Evan was right here, rehearsing for the school play." He presses his lips together, as if tamping down his sorrow. "I — it's even crazier that he died, right here, in the place where he would've given his grand performance as Hamlet. He was such a wonderful friend and an awesome person to work with in the drama club. Evan got along with everyone."

"Seriously?" a voice whispers behind me. It's the same one I heard before, a bored, mid-range girl's voice. Again, I cast a look over my shoulder. Three girls sit directly behind us, flanked by teenage boys on either side.

"To think that I saw him just ten minutes before he died." Pierce shakes his head. "Man, I would've wanted Hamlet to run even longer overtime if I had known what would happen."

Overtime? Drama club ran over the scheduled rehearsal time?

My brain latches onto that information, turning it over and picking it apart in my head. The last people to see him alive were the people in the drama club. And the killer must have known that Evan would be there in order to have been waiting for him afterward.

Other than the drama club members, who else was in the building at that time? Or could the killer be among his theatrical friends?

Evan also scheduled our date to be right after he finished practice with the drama club. How much time did that leave him before our date? An hour? Half an hour? How much longer overtime did the drama club run? How long was the killer waiting outside the classroom, waiting for Evan? If it was for an extended period of time, surely someone would've seen this mysterious person. Would there have been a place for him — or her — to hide?

How much time did the killer have to escape before I entered the auditorium?

My hand twitches around my cellphone. The rest of Pierce's speech barely registers as I anticipate when the lights will turn on again, when I can check on this timeline that's materializing in my head.

At long last, his speech ends, and Mrs. Williamson returns to the stage, thanking us for coming to remember Evan. Brightness swells overhead, casting out the shadows that shrouded the audience. Throughout the auditorium, people begin to rise from their seats, including Priya next to me.

"I'm going to the cafe with Adrian and the cheer squad after this," Priya says. "Want to come?"

"I have a project to work on," Autumn says.

"Maybe I will," Zoe says. "I have to talk to my mom first. Actually, let me text her right now." She slides her phone from her paint-splattered hoodie's pocket.

"Madelyn?" Priya's brown eyes stare hopefully at me.

"Not today," I say. "But thanks for the invitation." Though surrounded by rapidly emptying chairs, I can't shake the glances that shift my way. I don't know how many more gawking eyes I can take today.

"Of course, you're always welcome to join us." Priya smiles at me before turning to her phone. While she and Zoe are preoccupied, Autumn leans over.

"I'm so sorry for what happened with the dating app," Autumn whispers. "Really I can't believe this happened."

I lace my fingers together in front of me to halt their nervous twitching. "It's, uh, it will be okay."

"Are you mad?" Autumn's green eyes are deep and intense, fixated solely on me. I feel myself shrinking back against the folding seats.

"About what?"

"You know, the dare."

"It's okay," I sigh.

"Phew, I was concerned you were." When my brows furrow, she adds, "'cause you weren't responding to my texts."

"Sorry, I just needed some space. I haven't really been online lately."

"I get it. Just take your time. If it makes things any better you don't have to finish the dare. Not after everything that's happened."

"Finish the dare?" I repeat, dazed.

"You were supposed to go on five dates, not one." My eyebrows shoot up. "But I'm not holding you to it," Autumn quickly adds. "Don't worry about it."

A prickle of indignation rises on my skin. Seriously? She's giving me permission to not finish the dare? How absurd! In my mind, there should be no question that I'm never going to touch that app ever again. Her permission does not solidify or change my resolve in any form or fashion. Why would she think that I would continue with this stupid game if she said that I had to?

Before I say something I'll regret, Zoe's cheery voice slices the tension in the air. "Okay, Mom said I can go. I'll meet you there."

"Great," Priya says. She waves to me. "See you, Madelyn." Autumn waves as well before heading into the fray that's leaving the room.

"I need to talk to you," I tell Zoe, grabbing hold of her oversized sleeve so she doesn't go ahead with Priya and Autumn.

"Okay."

I sink into an empty chair. Zoe glances at the crowd before lowering herself into one beside me. Unease settles over her expression.

"It sounds like Evan was at play practice before the date." An inkling of excitement laces my voice.

"I guess so," Zoe states.

I pull out my phone, quickly searching for the school's calendar page.

"What are you looking for?" Zoe peers over my shoulder.

"I'm trying to see when the drama club was supposed to start and end." I scroll backward through the days until I reach Friday, two weeks ago. "There it is. It started at three and ended at four-thirty."

"That's how long it was supposed to run for," Zoe says. "I wonder how much later it got out."

"Me too," I say. "If I—" I pause. You are innocent. That's what Zoe believes, anyway. "Whoever planned this must've known Evan was in the drama club and was waiting outside for anywhere between five and thirty minutes as they ran over."

"That person had to have been caught on the surveillance footage," Zoe says.

"Maybe, unless they had a really good hiding spot."

"It's worth a try."

"Except we don't have access to it."

"What about the janitorial staff?" Zoe suggests.

"Do you think they'd talk to us? What would we even ask?"

"We'd find out who was in the hallway during that time, then ask if they saw anyone lurking nearby." Zoe bites her lip. "I guess the only problem would be if the janitor did it."

"Hey, it's better than nothing."

"Yeah. They're always pretty nice whenever I say hi to them, so I'm sure they'd have no problem talking to us."

"We just might need a better excuse than trying to find the killer."

Zoe chuckles. "We can figure that one out."

"The other thing is that all the people in the drama club were the last people to see Evan alive," I say. "They'd be good to talk to. We can also find out how late the drama club got out."

Zoe nods. "That would establish a window of time for when the criminal left the auditorium. Like, if drama club got out five minutes before four, that gives a much smaller period of time in which the criminal could've gotten away from the crime scene compared to twenty minutes."

"Exactly." I grin. She's thinking just like me.

"We'll know when we should be looking for alibis from suspects, too." Zoe is practically bouncing with excitement. "Wow, we're starting to sound like a real detective team."

"Who would've guessed it."

Our voices have gotten quieter and quieter as more and more people have left the auditorium. Now, only a few groups of students and adults are scattered amongst the seats and aisles, talking in low voices.

"I better go find my mom," I say. "I'll reach out to Pierce and see if he and some of his other drama club friends can meet. It can be kind of like a closure-type thing."

"At least that's what they'll think it is," Zoe says.

"Right." We stand and head for the door. I trail slightly behind Zoe, and as I'm about to leave, I hear that bored, feminine voice again. There's no mistaking it, and when I get a good look at the five girls standing a little bit away from the auditorium entrance, I realize that one of them — a girl with ripped jeans and white crop top — was sitting behind me during the memorial.

"This whole thing is so fake," she says, flipping brown curls over her shoulder. "I mean, not trying to rag on the dead or anything, but Evan had some major problems."

"Yeah, he really wasn't the bundle of sunshine they made him sound like," another agrees.

My steps slow to crawl, but all too soon, I'm through the double doors and standing in the noisy foyer. If only I had super hearing like some of the students and adults here, then I could eavesdrop on them without seeming suspicious. What on earth is their problem with Evan?

I can't believe how brazen those girls are. This is a murder case, and they're openly talking about Evan in a bad way. They could get into major trouble.

Then again, maybe there's a reason for their serious dislike of him. Perhaps I should track those girls down and talk to them. Perhaps they can give me some new insight into Evan Barnes.