where did he get the test answers? he asked once I'd finished.

  he wont say

  guesses?

  I leaned back in the vinyl seat, feeling my forehead crease in thought as I looked out the window and watched a squirrel scuttle across a power line.

  he had drea pick up cash 4 him. mayB he had someone else stealing the cheats 4 him

  There was a pause. Then Chase texted back.

  doesn't like 2 do dirty work himself?

  doesn't like 2 get caught. he's crooked but smart

  next step? Chase asked.

  going 2 see BF connor @ Nickel City. someone else syd might have been planning to name

  I could feel Chase contemplating this angle in the silence on the other end. Finally he sent back, i'll meet u there. time?

  I sent Chase the details and agreed to meet up in an hour. I could only hope that Connor was a little more forthcoming than Nicky had been.

  * * *

  Nickel City was an arcade where for five cents you could play any video game in the place. The catch? They were all vintage oldies. As was the building. The floors were slightly sticky from countless spilled sodas, the walls smelled like stale pizza, and the arcade consoles themselves were chipped, faded, and slick where sweaty palms had clutched joysticks in hundreds of death grips.

  As soon as we walked in the door, I spied Chase waiting for us next to an ancient Ms. Pac-Man machine.

  "Hey," he said. "Connor's over there playing Gran Turismo." He gestured to a machine along the back wall.

  "You talk to him yet?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "Waiting for you two."

  "Let's do it," Sam said, striding toward him. Chase and I followed a step behind.

  "Hey," Chase said, leaning in toward me. "No jasmine today, huh?"

  I ducked my head as I walked. "I told you it was the bushes."

  "Bummer. They were nice smelling bushes."

  I ignored the comment (and the blush it created in my cheeks), instead focusing on Connor.

  With blond hair, blue eyes, and zero acne, Connor Crane was currently the secret crush of half the female HHH population. And a couple of the males, too. Personally, I'd always thought there was something just a little "too" perfect about him. His look was as carefully planned as the dressed mannequins in the Abercrombie windows—each hair of his casual messy-do gelled into place with precision to look carelessly cool and his outfits meticulously chosen to look like he'd just pulled something random from his closet. It was the kind of effortless look that everyone knew required a lot of effort.

  "Connor," I called as we approached his game console.

  "Hey," he replied, though he didn't look up from his screen, furiously pressing buttons and twisting the plastic steering wheel.

  "Can we talk to you for a sec?"

  "Sure." But he still didn't look up.

  "Uh…maybe face-to-face?"

  "Hang on a sec," he said, punctuating his words with a slam to the B button. He didn't exactly fit the classic image of someone who was grief stricken at losing a loved one. I watched his car careen over an oil slick on the road, skidding sideways, then slamming into an invisible wall. Finally his vehicle raced over the finish line and the words Game Over appeared.

  Connor scowled at the screen.

  "Um, got a minute now?" I asked.

  Connor look up for the first time, seeming a little surprised to find us there.

  "Oh. Right. Sure." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the arcade game. "What did you want to talk about?"

  "Sydney."

  A frown creased between his brows. "What about her?"

  "I'm so sorry for your loss," I told him.

  The frown turned to an expression of confusion. "What do you mean, my loss?"

  "You two were going out, right?" Sam asked.

  He looked down at his feet and nodded, kicking at the sticky carpet with one toe. "Were. Past tense. We broke up."

  Sam shot me a meaningful look.

  "When?" I asked.

  He shrugged again. "Right before she died."

  "You mean right after she got caught cheating?" Sam jumped in.

  Connor shrugged. "Yeah. So?"

  "Why did you break up?" I asked.

  Connor bit his lip and did some more carpet kicking. "You know. Stuff."

  "Did she dump you?" Sam, the queen of blunt, asked.

  Connor's head snapped up. "No! Dude, I've never been dumped."

  "So, you dumped Sydney?" Chase prompted.

  Connor looked from Chase to me then nodded slowly. "Yeah."

  Sam shot me another of those meaningful looks. If Connor had dumped Sydney, that definitely put her willingness to keep his name out of the scandal on shaky ground. Earthquake territory, even.

  "Did you dumping Sydney have anything to do with her getting caught cheating?" Chase asked.

  "Kinda," he hedged. The frown between his eyebrows deepened. I'd never noticed until then how thick those eyebrows were. The only not-so-perfect thing about him.

  Well, that and the fact that he might have killed his girlfriend.

  "So Sydney is suspended, kicked off the Homecoming ballot, and you feel like that's a good time to break up with her?" Sam said. "Wow, talk about kicking her while she's down."

  "It wasn't like that!" Connor said. "Look, I had to break up with her. People vote on couples for Homecoming King and Queen. With Sydney off…well, if I wanted a chance at King, I had to find a new Queen."

  "You dumped her to stay on the ballot?" Sam blinked at him. Ouch. The idea of Sydney exacting revenge on him was sounding better and better.

  He shrugged. "Yeah. So?"

  "I bet Sydney wasn't too happy about that."

  He shrugged again. "I dunno."

  "Unhappy enough to tell the VP that you helped her get the answers to Mr. Lipkins' test?"

  Those eyebrows hunkered down again. "Who told you that?"

  "It's true, isn't it?" I pressed.

  He sucked in a breath, eyes pinging between us. "Even if it was, Sydney would never tell anyone."

  "Well, she certainly won't now," Sam said, giving Connor a pointed look.

  His eyes narrowed at her. "What exactly are you getting at?"

  "We don't think Sydney killed herself," Sam said. "We think someone Twittercided her."

  Connor cocked his head.

  "Killed her," I supplied.

  "And you think it was me?" Connor's voice went up into a prepubescent range.

  Sam and I both gave him hard stares.

  "Dude!" Connor said, taking another step back. "No way. I did not hurt Sydney. You guys have got this all wrong," he said. He turned to Chase, a bro appeal in his eyes.

  "So, straighten us out," Chase offered.

  "Look, Sydney knew how important Homecoming was. Everyone votes on couples, so she was cool when I starting seeing someone else."

  "Wait—you've already started seeing someone else?" I asked.

  "Of course." He grinned.

  "That was fast," Sam observed.

  "Hey, voting ends Thursday. I didn't have any time to waste. But I'm telling you, Sydney was cool with me breaking up with her just for the voting and coronation. I promised her that I'd take her back after I was crowned King."

  "So you're saying the new girlfriend is just for show?" Sam asked.

  Connor nodded. "Right."

  "Gee, who's the lucky lady?" I asked, though I was pretty sure my sarcasm was lost on him, the way he puffed his chest out with pride as he answered.

  "Jenni Pritchard."

  "Where have I heard that name?" Sam asked.

  "Lice," I reminded her. Jenni had been the girl who Sydney had called lice on in an effort to overtake her in the running for Queen.

  "Riiight," Sam said, nodding. "So, I'm guessing with Sydney out of the running, Jenni's back to being the favorite for Homecoming Queen again?"

  Connor shrugged. "I think we have a good chance."

  Honestly, I did too. Jenni Pritchard had transferred to HHH from some private school in Atherton mid-freshman year. She was wealthy, slim, tanned, and reminded me of a Barbie doll in every possible way. Right down to her plastic parts. She'd gotten a nose job over summer break, and there was a rumor she'd convinced her dad to buy her implants for her sweet sixteen.

  "Wait a minute," Chase said. "Isn't Jenni dating Ben Fisher? I thought I saw their names on the ballot together."

  "Was dating Ben Fisher. She broke up with that guy when I asked her out."

  "So, let me get this straight," I said, holding up a hand. "You dumped Sydney to steal Jenni away from Ben to win Homecoming. Then you were gonna dump Jenni and get back together with Sydney?" I said.

  He grinned. "Clever, right?"

  I could think of a few other adjectives to describe it.

  "Look," Connor went on, clearly sensing that his audience wasn't seeing things the same way he was, "no one ever uses the write-in option to vote, so when Sydney got kicked off the court, I knew my chances of still winning were better if I was dating someone already on the ballot."

  "So, you were planning to get back together with Sydney, but now that she's dead…" Sam trailed off.

  Connor shrugged. "I guess I'll stay with Jenni. I mean, at least until winter formal. We have a good chance of King and Queen there, too, with Sydney gone."

  He was a true romantic.

  "Did Jenni know you were planning to dump her for Sydney again after Homecoming?"

  "No way!" Connor shook his head. "She wouldn't have gone for it if she did." He paused. "Wait—you guys aren't, like, friends with her, are you?"

  I shook my head and could see him sag with relief.

  "So, just for the record…where were you the afternoon that Sydney died?" Chase asked.

  "School," he said. "Then football practice. I didn't even hear she was dead until that night."

  I nodded. Dozens of people must have seen him at practice. Still, it would have been pretty easy to show up, be seen, slip away for a few minutes to drive to Sydney's and off her, and then slip back before anyone noticed he was gone. Though, as we left Nickel City, I had to admit, it would have been a slim window of opportunity. Which I voiced to Sam and Chase in the parking lot.

  "True," Sam agreed. "But if he's telling the truth, it opens up motive for someone else."

  Chase raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "Jenni?"

  She nodded. "Connor says Jenni didn't know about his plan to get back together with Sydney, but what if she found out?"

  "And decided to take Sydney out of the picture?" I finished for her.

  "I guess that all depends on how into Connor Jenni is," Chase said.

  "And how badly Jenni wanted that Homecoming crown," Sam added.

  * * *

  When I got home, Mom was, predictably, sitting in the front of the computer. Only this time she wasn't wearing the intent frown of someone trying to figure out a dating site. She was smiling. And giggling.

  Uh-oh.

  "Hey, Mom," I said tentatively.

  Mom's head whipped up, and instant guilt spread across her cheeks in a bright pink stain. "Hartley. I didn't hear you come in."

  "Whatcha doin'?" I asked, coming around the kitchen table to see her screen.

  But before I could catch a glimpse of anything, she quickly closed the laptop.

  "Nothing."

  "It looked like you were doing something."

  "Just typing."

  "Typing what?"

  "You're a nosey little one today, aren't you?"

  I put my hands on my hips, doing the best imitation I could of her own "stern face." "Mom…"

  She grinned and threw her hands up on a mock surrender gesture. "Okay, fine. If you must know, Miss Nosey, I was messaging with someone."

  I scrunched my nose up. "Who?"

  "Not that it's any of your business," she answered, "but a man."

  I knew I was going to regret this, but…

  "A man from a dating site?"

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "Oh, please tell me it's not Mr. Candlelit Dinners."

  "Hartley!" she said, swatting me. "There's nothing wrong with a man being a romantic."

  "Right," I said. "Long walks on the beach are totally cool. If your name is Fabio."

  Mom swatted me again. "It's not him, okay? It's…someone else."

  "Someone else, who? Can I see his profile?" I asked, reaching for her laptop lid.

  But Mom quickly put her hand on top of it. "No."

  I raised an eyebrow her way.

  "I mean…it's private. This is a private conversation."

  "Ew. You're not, like, sending dirty messages or anything, are you?"

  Mom rolled her eyes at me. "We're having a perfectly normal adult conversation."

  "Adult as in R-rated?"

  "Hartley…" Mom warned.

  My turn to put my hands up. "Okay, okay. I'm just trying to look out for you, you know. There are a lot of perverts online."

  She shot me a look. "He's not a pervert. And besides, we're just talking."

  "That's how it starts…"

  "Hartley!"

  "I'm just saying, that's all!"

  "Look, don't you have some homework to go do?" Mom asked, making a shooing motion with her hands.

  "It's Sunday."

  "Then don't you have some friends to Facebook with?"

  "I'm not sure Facebook is a verb."

  "Hart…" That warning tone crept into her voice again.

  I nodded. "Okay. Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when Mr. CyberLove starts sexting you!"

  "Hartley!"

  "I'm going," I said, backing out of the kitchen. As I hit the stairs, I heard the distinct sound of the laptop opening and fingers clicking on the keyboard again.

  Ick.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I spent the rest of the day doing more studying for our upcoming AG midterm, doing more theorizing that went nowhere, and typing up my story for Monday's edition of the Homepage, as scant as it was. I pursed my lips, reading back through the copy. There was nothing that was new—mostly just a vague recapping of Sydney's death, along with Mr. Lipkins' remarks from our interview on the cheating scandal. I had to turn in something to fill space in this week's edition, but it was fluff, and I knew it.

  I reluctantly emailed it to Chase just under the evening deadline, cringing as I waited for his reply.

  It finally came in the form of a text as I was streaming a show on my bed, digesting the last of Mom's gluten-free rice flour spaghetti with texturized vegetable protein balls.

  got ur article it said.

  I paused, ready to defend its contents.

  u happy with it? he asked.

  I bit my lip. But any defense I had fell flat on my own ears, so instead of faking it, I told the truth.

  it was fluff

  *grin* he typed back.

  i'll have something better soon. i swear!

  i know

  Something about his confidence in me suddenly made the TVP balls in my stomach roll over each other. Especially since it was totally misplaced. Truth was, for all the people we'd questioned, I really had no idea who could have killed Sydney. No one seemed like a Twittercidal maniac. I was actually starting to question whether Sydney maybe did end her life on her own and we were just seeing shadows where none existed.

  Which was why I was glad when Chase changed the subject.

  hey…got plans 2morrow nite?

  Okay, I was glad for about half a second. Then those TVP balls started moving again in nervous circles as I typed back.

  no. y?

  meet me @ pizza my heart 4 dinner? 6?

  For a full five seconds, my entire body froze. My heart stopped, my lungs forgot how to breathe, and my fingers hovered stupidly over my phone. It sorta sounded like he was asking me out. But it had sorta sounded like that before with the football game. But this sounded more like it. Sorta.

  u there?

  yes, I typed back quickly.

  yes ur there or yes 2 pizza?

  I paused, my heart suddenly going from frozen to racing at a hundred miles a minute. And while I still wasn't sure what this all meant, somehow I found my fingers typing back the word both.

  cool, Chase responded. c u then

  I stared at the screen, trying to process what had just happened.

  I think I had a date with Chase.

  * * *

  "I think I have a date with Chase," I concluded the next morning as Sam and I stood outside Senorita Gonzales's classroom, waiting for Jenni Pritchard. (I'd found out last night from Erin Carter that Jessica Hansen said Cody Banks said that he had Spanish with Jenni first period. I only hoped my sources were correct.)

  "No way!" Sam said, smacking me in the arm. "Where? When? I need all the details."

  I quickly relayed the conversation I'd had with Chase the previous night. When I was done, Sam was grinning so widely I could see her molars.

  "Holy fermenting fish sticks! He's totally into you. I knew it!"

  My stomach did that rolling thing again, only this time all it had to churn over was the breakfast latte I'd stopped for at Starbucks on the way to school.

  "So," Sam asked, leaning in. "Are you into him?"

  I bit my lip. "I don't know. Maybe. Sorta. We're friends, I guess."

  "You guys would make such a cute couple," she said, staring off into space at a bank of lockers to our right. "You know what? I totally have some yarn leftover. I could make you matching heart bracelets!"

  "Look, isn't that Jenni?" I asked, pointing to a blonde down the hallway, infinitely glad to be saved from that disturbing thought.

  Jenni Pritchard was tall, had blue eyes, and had a tan complexion that had nothing to do with her ethnicity and everything to do with the salon on North Santa Cruz Avenue. As usual, her hair was loose and shiny over her shoulders, and she was wearing denim short-shorts that just barely complied with our dress code, tall boots, and a tank top that was tight enough that I believed the rumor about the implants. A wad of gum popped between her teeth as her head bobbed back and forth to a song presumably playing on her earbuds.