Sneaking into the front office is one of the last things I imagined myself doing at Eralyn. But according to Graysen, Thursday afternoon is the day when all the administrative staff and teachers have a conference together and discuss things for the school year. Every time Graysen, Brooklyn, and the two other office aids have worked on stuff, no one has come in and disturbed them.

"It's the prime time to get what you need," Graysen assured us.

As soon as the bell rings, I hurry from my enhanced sense class, down the hallways and down the stairs to the foyer. Students swarm down the stairs, but from above, I spot Graysen and Zoe already waiting by the auditorium doors.

Of all the meeting places, the one place literally everyone can see us. I force calm, steady breaths to fill my lungs. My feet carry me through the crowd, pushing past all the students blocking and crossing my path.

"We're just waiting for Brooklyn," Graysen says when I approach. "But she should be here soon."

I nod, my fingers rubbing my jeweled phone case. I could use a lavender diffuser right about now.

Brooklyn pushes through the crowd. Her blue backpack dwarfs her bony frame, with the straps set wider apart than her shoulders. It hangs awkwardly off of her as a result.

"Graysen's filled you in?" Zoe asks. I'm not sure why; Graysen told us today that Brooklyn is on board.

Brooklyn nods. "Let's do this." There's an excited glint in her eyes that I haven't seen before, and a slight smirk on her lips. This is the most interested I've seen her in anything since... well, since forever.

We make our way to the front office. It's on the opposite side of the foyer, away from the carpool lane and visitor and student parking lot, which is the entrance I usually enter and exit from. Teachers and admin in suits, ties, and heels stalk from the door to the front office. They all head en mass to the Auditorium. It's like the students and staff have switched places; we're in the front office while they're having their assembly.

"We'll wait here," Zoe whispers, nodding to a bench not too far away. Graysen nods, then she and Brooklyn enter the front office.

Fifteen minutes later, and several algebra homework problems later, the hallways are finally cleared. A few students still roam the halls or quickly walk by. The heavy auditorium doors close with several bangs, and I hear the principal's voice boom over a microphone.

"Good afternoon."

That's Zoe and my cue. I shove my computer and spiral back into my backpack and scurry over to the front office. I stand on my toes to see into the rectangular window on the door. Graysen cracks the door a moment later.

"The other office aids are cleaning the other rooms. You have just enough time to sneak into the principal's office. Brooklyn's already there," she whispers.

My eyes roam the ceiling as we walk to the office, then snag on a black box on the ceiling.

"Shoot," I breathe. "Security footage."

Brooklyn pops her head out the wooden office door. "Already taken care of. I deleted the footage from when I entered and suspended the cameras temporarily. They'll turn back on in twenty minutes."

"Wow, how are you so good?" Zoe says.

Brooklyn shrugs. "Enhanced sense helps."

She types a login on the computer. The computer logs in, displaying hundreds of tiny square files on the screen. "You can read through them. I'll be cleaning in the other room. Let me know if you need anything."

I bend over the computer. It feels wrong to sit in the teacher's chair, besides, it might somehow leave our DNA on it. Wearing a pair of computer gloves, I place my hand over the curve of the mouse and begin searching.

"Hmm, lunch menus, hiring pages, former student and employee pages..."

"Maybe try the former student and employee pages," Zoe says. I double click on it, and it pulls up a directory of all the students and staff who have been at Eralyn.

"It's listed by year."

I scroll through the years. I'm sure there's an easier way to go about this than scrolling from 1996 to last year, but I don't have Brooklyn, or even Autumn's know-how to make it happen.

"Oh hurry." Zoe bounces on the balls of her feet.

As I click the forward arrow through the tabs, the cursor slips, and I click the year 2006. A list of student names unfurls on the screen.

Jessica Ai

Amber Anderson

Ryan Brown

I sigh in frustration, trying to move the mouse to the back arrow and keep clicking through the lists.

Former staff members in 2022. I open the file and continue scrolling through names until I see Melissa Laybrook. I click on her name, and files appear. Her job resume, her insurance records, and her dismissal report. My gaze locks with Zoe's for an instant.

"There it is," Zoe whispers.

I click the file. A loading bar appears, slowly being filled with gray. My eyes shift to the clock in the lower right hand corner of the screen. We have exactly eleven minutes left.

The file opens, a white document blinding my eyes. I skim the tiny black text.

My jaw drops.

Not a single word mentions my name in the two-page report, but it details why she was fired in a concise, condemning report.

Miss Laybrook approached the student after discovering that he cheated on his exam. She told him that the penalty of cheating was failing the class at best and expulsion at worst.

Instead of acknowledging his wrongdoing, Drake threatened to reveal that Miss Laybrook had an affair with one of her professors in college. Miss Laybrook claims that she was too shocked by his blackmail to do anything right away. She failed to take action for two weeks before Drake approached her again. This time, an associate professor, Mr. Harold, overheard and reported the conversation...

As a result of both their actions, Drake Collins is being expelled, and Melissa Laybrook fired from this institution.

"Oh my gosh," Zoe breathes beside me. She must've reached the end too.

So it didn't have anything to do with me. While it makes me feel slightly better, I also don't know what to think. Part of me feels sorry for Miss Laybrook. I don't think she truly meant to let Drake get away with cheating. She was probably so stunned, she didn't know what to do. At the same time, I'm not sure I can ever think of Miss Laybrook the same way ever again after learning of her secret relationship. Maybe that just proves her fears to be true — had Drake leaked this, she might've lost her job and reputation all the same.

"Is there anything else?" Zoe whispers. I click out of the file, then look around the folder to see if there's anything more that catches my eye.

The door cracks open. "Got what you need?" Graysen pokes her head inside.

"Yes, let's go." Zoe hurries from around the desk.

"The coast is clear right now. Brooklyn will shut the computer down. The other office aides just changed rooms so this is a good time."

I click out of the records, then follow Zoe into the main office. The air conditioning unit hums overhead, underscoring the silence.

Zoe and I rush out the office door and back into the empty foyer.

"Phew," she breathes. I press my finger to my lips, nodding to the auditorium door. She nods, and we leave the school. Outside, cold, autumn air presses around me, and the wind pulls my ponytail to the left side of my face.

"I can't believe that's why your teacher was fired," Zoe says. Only the empty cars in the parking lot are around. "Miss Laybrook always seemed so wholesome."

"Yeah." I trudge along. Leaves crackle under my feet, drowning out the hoard of thoughts clustering the corners of my mind. I can't quite process anything we learned, yet there's so much to talk through, so much to shade into the picture we're trying to unveil.

"Maybe she is," Zoe says after a moment. "She might've just made a mistake, and Drake tried to use it to his advantage." We walk a few more paces, listening to the puff of our breaths, the crunch of our feet, the whisper on the wind. "Honestly, I don't think your teacher had anything to do with the murder."

"Yeah," I agree, my brain finally catching up with the records info. "If she had a problem with me or Evan, it might be more of a theory. But the real problem was Drake."

"It all comes back to Drake." Zoe shakes her head. "That boy just screams trouble."

We round the corner of the school. The howling wind seems to swallow our voices, yet I don't want to talk any louder. My thoughts plod onward with my footsteps.

"If Drake could dig up that kind of secret from Miss Laybrook, it might be just as easy for him to do that with Evan. Maybe he knew about, or was personally affected by, the pharma scandal."

"You're so right!"

"We need to learn more about the big pharma lawsuit." My thoughts are quickening. I actually feel like we're getting somewhere. "If we read about it, maybe we can see some connection between Drake and Evan."

"Have you looked through your Mom's files yet?"

"No. But maybe we can do that tomorrow afternoon. She has work all afternoon, so it's the best time. I also think it's time for another chat with Drake. And this time, we'll come prepared with the right questions to ask."

***

This is the second time Zoe and I are hanging out outside the public high school. I hope no one thinks it's too weird or thinks we're plotting something against the school. We try to time our arrival close to the end of classes, but we also arrive at least a little early to be sure to be here when school gets out.

"It's four-thirty," Zoe says. She's fidgeting with her backpack strap, her phone turned on with the phone case in her palm. "They should be coming out now."

Sure enough, students trickle from the school's mouth. The concrete floods with bright shirts and patterned backpacks.

"Do you see him?" Zoe asks. I shake my head. Then, I see a short, thin boy bobbing through the crowd. He darts to the bike rack, unlocking his black bike and walking it toward the sidewalk.

Zoe and I walk toward him automatically. Hopefully, with our backpacks, kid faces, and clothes, we'll blend into the other students already here.

A girl runs up to Drake, a small girl, no taller than his torso — and that's saying something. Her soft, brown hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she has a shiny backpack with stars on it. Zoe and I pause, exchanging glances. They have the same angular faces, the same nose that's stubby and rounded.

"Does Drake have a sister?" I say aloud.

"He doesn't seem like the warm brotherly type," Zoe comments.

I nod in agreement. But it's true that no one chooses what siblings they get, or what they are like.

Drake glances over his shoulder, then says something more to the girl. His leg swings over the bike, and when his feet land on the pedals, he flies down the sidewalk.

"Hey, come back here! No bike riding on the school sidewalk!" a male teacher screeches. But Drake is already at the intersection, riding his bike across the street. A car screeches to a halt to avoid hitting him.

"Major issues." Zoe shakes her head. "That was so dangerous."

"I doubt he cares." My gaze refocuses on the girl, presumably his sister.

"And now we can't talk to him." Zoe folds her arms over her chest, leaning forward. She grimaces against the cold.

"We can talk to his sister."

"Wouldn't that be weird?"

"I don't think so. We're not trying to be creepy or anything."

Zoe shrugs after a moment, and we head into the swarm of students. The little girl is walking her pink bike toward the sidewalk, the same direction as we are heading in.

"Hey," I say as our paths cross. The girl keeps walking, her bike making a clanking sound as it rolls across the concrete. We hurry to walk beside her. "Hey, would Drake happen to be your brother?"

The girl pauses. A pink bubble inflates over her lips before popping. "Yeah. why?"

Zoe and I exchange glances. "Do you attend this school?"

"No way. I'm at the Middle School. Just started this year. Drake normally is supposed to walk me home but... he's been busy."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Every Friday. I think he's staying after school for clubs."

"Is that every friday?" I ask. "He attends clubs every friday?"

"That's what I said." The girl resumes walking, and we keep pace beside her.

"What about four Fridays ago?" Zoe asks.

The girl pauses, huffs. "Look, I said every Friday. If I said that, then it's true."

"Okay, okay." Zoe holds up her hands. "Just wondering."

"Is he part of any technology clubs?" I ask. "Or technology classes?"

The girl shrugs. "I don't know. I try to not talk to him too much."

"Why?"

"He can be..." The girl pauses, her foot tapping on the ground. "Moody."

Moody. Is it possible that he's taking drugs as well, or is in that sort of crowd? Could that be the connection with Evan?

"Do you know if he's good with technology?" Zoe asks.

"Why?" She blows another pink bubble, eyes bored.

"Because... we're from the theater club at school and were wondering if he'd be a good fit for the theater tech crew."

"Oh. Yeah, he's good with that stuff. He programs our house."

"Your house?" Zoe asks.

"Yes. Like the intruder alert systems, video cameras, that sort of thing."

"Video cameras in your house?" Zoe is incredulous.

"In his room and outside the house."

That's not weird or suspicious at all.

"He also has this auto command system thing set up. Like we can talk, and the fridge door will open." When we both stare at her slack-jawed, she says, "it's because he has, uh, special skills."

I frown. "Like... an enhanced sense?" I've never heard of someone having two enhanced senses. And I already know he has the same sense as me.

The girl freezes. "How did you know about that?"

"We have that too."

The girl nods slowly, and I wonder if we've said too much.

"Does he have two enhanced senses?" I ask tentatively.

"No... though you might think that because he's so good with technology programming. Actually, I think someone at Eralyn, you're from Eralyn, right?" Zoe and I nod. "Okay good. I think someone at Eralyn taught him, but I'm not entirely sure."

"He learned all that in just a year?" Zoe asks.

"No, he met her in some after school club thing several years ago. He's pretty private, so I don't know much about her. But her enhanced sense is somehow related to technology. Anyway, she taught him because..." She trails off, biting her lip.

"Because why?" Zoe presses.

The girl's face crumples, like she's about to cry. "Look, don't tell him I said this because he will be so mad, but he's been like, super jumpy for years. He's always scared there's an intruder in the house. It's one of the reasons he didn't do great at Eralyn: the training isn't specialized for those who are hyper sensitive. He wired all the cameras and stuff so that if someone got inside the house, we'd know."

For the first time, I actually feel bad for Drake because I know what that feels like. Maybe I got him all wrong.

"And the fridge?" Zoe asks.

"That's just for fun." She swipes a hand over her eyes, wiping away stray tears that have fallen.

"Did Drake have any clubs last saturday?" I ask, trying to take her mind off the crying.

"Uh-uh," she says.

"So he was home?"

"No."

"Where was he?"

She shrugs. "Not home."

That sounds suspicious.

"He kind of comes and goes as he wants or needs. Mom and Dad work so they don't really care, and he doesn't really need to babysit me anymore now that I'm in middle school." She puffs out her chest. "I'm in sixth grade, you know."

"Yes, you're almost a teenager," Zoe says.

There's a slight pause before I think to say, "it's Friday afternoon today. Why is Drake leaving the school instead of going to a club?"

"Beats me." Her foot paws her bike pedal. "Can I go? It's almost time for my afternoon show to come on."

"Yes, of course. Don't let us keep you," I say.

"Nice talking to you." The girls waves then rides off.

"So," Zoe says. "We have an irresponsible older brother, random disappearances, creepy programming things in his house, and no alibi for either death. Seems like we have a major suspect on our hands."

"Maybe." My suspicions have drastically lowered, though. Maybe because he reminds me of myself.

And I don't want to be a killer.

"I wonder what he was doing on those days when he's gone. Is he part of any other clubs?" Zoe asks.

"His sister didn't know, and it's hard to ask around school since we don't go here."

"I can get Luke to ask around."

"Yes. But he clearly isn't going to any clubs today." My gaze lands on where Drake's bike zoomed off. What else could he be doing on a Friday afternoon?