Liska looked at the fracture, the steep angle of it.

“This,” Möller said, “is a spiral fracture. A spiral fracture is caused by a twisting motion.”

He turned toward her, grabbed hold of her wrist, and slowly twisted.

“That, my friend—,” he began.

Liska finished the sentence for him. “Is abuse.”

28

Have u heard about Gray?

Brittany looked at her phone. Kyle. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? That was her first thought. Her second thought was that in her heart of hearts she actually kind of wished she could see him and talk to him. He was always so sure of what to do, of what was right. She didn’t always agree with him, but she wished she had some of his strength right now.

She glanced around to see if anyone was watching her, then texted him back. She’s missing. Cops here now. Where r u?

They sat at a big, glossy wood table in a room in the principal’s offices. Christina and Aaron and the other kids who had been at the Rock & Bowl that night—Jessie and Emily, Eric and Michael; the core of the clique. The police wanted to talk to them.

“How did they even know we were there?” Aaron asked.

Brittany was silent, dreading having everyone’s attention on her. Would they be angry? Would they hate her? She hadn’t asked for the police to come to her house.

She felt Christina’s dark eyes on her with extra intensity. She had to tell them. They would find out anyway.

“They came to my house last night,” she said. “Gray’s mom told them she was staying with me.”

Emily’s eyes got big. “The police came to your house? Oh my God.”

“This is what happens,” Christina said with firm disapproval. “This is what you get for letting her come to your house, Britt. She’s always in trouble. She is trouble. I’ve told you that a hundred times!”

“I know, I know,” Brittany said. “But her mom kicked her out. She needed a place to stay—”

“Let her go stay with one of her weird poet friends. She’s not your responsibility, Britt. You don’t owe her anything.”

Brittany said nothing. Everything with Christina was cut-and-dried and bent to fit, but Brittany never seemed to see things so clearly. She had been friends with Gray before she was friends with Christina. Even though she didn’t really get Gray, she felt like she did owe her a certain amount of, if not loyalty, then kindness, at least.

She felt badly for Gray. Her father had cut her out of his life. Her mother was a selfish bitch who would have been just as happy if Gray disappeared forever. That was so sad. Brittany had great parents. They didn’t always see eye to eye on things, but she knew her mom and dad loved her. They would never in a million years throw her out of the house, throw her away like she was a broken doll or a piece of trash.

“Maybe she had her own reasons for wanting Gray to sleep over,” Jessie said sarcastically. “A little girlie action, Britt?”

Brittany looked at her, seeing the nasty little gleam in her eyes. Jessie considered Christina her BFF and was easily made jealous. If anyone had lesbian tendencies, it was Jessie, but Brittany didn’t have the nerve to say so.

“Maybe I’m just a nice person,” she said. “Maybe if your mom kicked you out, you would like somebody to be nice to you too.”

“Leave her alone, Jess,” Christina snapped, conveniently forgetting that she had made the same kind of nasty comments before that night at the Rock & Bowl. All was forgiven now.

“What did you tell the cops?” Aaron asked.

“That we went to the Rock and Bowl and that Gray got pissed off and left.”

“And you told them that we were all there,” he said. “Thanks, Britt.”

“What difference would it make if I did?” she asked defensively. “What difference does it make who was there? Gray left. That’s all that matters.”

“Did you tell them that douchebag Hatcher was there?”

“I didn’t tell them anything about anyone!” Brittany insisted. “Stop trying to make me feel like I did something wrong! They’re the police, Aaron. You think they wouldn’t find out whatever they wanted to find out?”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Was one of them Hatcher’s mom?”

“No.”

“Then how come he’s not sitting here?”

“How would I know?”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

“He is not! How can he be my boyfriend? You’re the one who keeps saying he’s gay.”

“Aaron, stop it,” Christina snapped. “This isn’t Britt’s fault. Kyle probably told them we were all there. Who knows what he might have said.”

“Fucking loser runt,” Aaron muttered, staring down at his fists on the tabletop. He had a tendency to pout, his full lower lip jutting slightly forward, his eyes narrowing to slits.

When Brittany had first seen Aaron Fogelman, like every other girl in school, she had thought he was hot. He was tall and athletic and good-looking in a young Channing Tatum kind of a way. She had fantasized about him being interested in her, but that hadn’t lasted long. First of all, he was Christina’s boyfriend. But as she’d gotten to know him, the hot looks had faded behind the fact that he was spoiled and sulky and not very nice to a lot of people.

She hated the way he treated Kyle—the bullying, the nasty gay references—even if Kyle did sometimes ask for it. As she looked at him now she could hear Kyle’s voice: Nice friends you’ve got there, Britt. . . .

Her phone vibrated in her hand. She held it down in her lap and tried to read the text surreptitiously.

@home. Suspended.

“Did you see what he put on Twitter?” Eric Owen asked the room in general. He was snickering when he brought the picture up on his phone and held it so everyone could look. He laughed even though one of the cartoon figures was clearly himself.

Aaron swore half under his breath, reached over, and snatched the phone out of his buddy’s hand.

“Hey!”

“It’s not funny, dickhead!” Aaron declared.

It wasn’t funny when Kyle did it to Aaron, but it had been hilarious when Aaron had done it to Kyle. Brittany wished she had the courage to say it, but she didn’t.

“Where do you think Gray is?” Christina asked her.

“I don’t know.”

“You haven’t heard from her?”

“No, but why would I?” Brittany asked. “She thinks I set her up.”

“You did,” Jessie Cook said smugly.

Brittany looked down again at Kyle’s text—@home. Suspended.—and thought, Wish I was there.

She wanted to deny Jessie’s charge, but what good would it do her? She wanted to believe she hadn’t known Christina was going to retaliate that night. Nobody had told her in so many words. Christina had texted her, knowing full well Gray was with her, and told her to come to the Rock & Bowl. Brittany had convinced Gray to go.

Now she felt ashamed of herself for being a part of it, for not being brave enough to say something that night.

“She had it coming,” Emily Peters said.

That was true. Gray had invited the trouble—as she always did. She had written a nasty poem about Christina called “Queen of the Class” and read it out loud at PSI’s monthly Artist’s Open Mike Night right before Christmas break had started. Brittany could see it in her head like a scene from a movie: Gray standing at the microphone wearing a look that always meant trouble—half-mean, half-excited—as she began to read.

Queen of the Class

Princess of sass

Boss of the cool elite.

Mermaid hair

Down to there

Never has tasted defeat.

Believes she’s adored

Everyone is so bored