“This is the silver key, right?” I ask Ranger, tapping at the screen of my phone. The other boys are gathered around behind us. “The one you already had?” He nods, and I keep skipping through the photos. There's her class picture, the only female face among all those dudes.

About halfway through, we find a picture of her with her arm around Mr. Murphy. Only … Mr. Murphy's wearing a uniform.

“Mr. Murphy used to go here?” I ask, and Church replies, still holding a cup of coffee in his hands.

“Most the staff are alumni. I'd say a good seventy-five percent of them.” He takes another sip as we all stare at the picture.

“Were they dating?” I ask, but Ranger gives me a really weird look, like I've lost my mind.

“No, definitely not. She was dating her childhood friend, Rick.”

“As far as you know,” I tell him, giving him a look that says I'm a girl, trust me, I know these things. “The way they're holding each other, that goes way beyond the casual. You don't hold someone like that if you don't like them.”

“So … you're saying we need to kick Mr. Murphy's ass?” the twins ask in unison, but I give them a look.

“No, we need to talk to him,” I explain, and they both make a moue of disappointment. “In fact, let me do it. There's that fitness test thing tomorrow that I'm excused from. It'll give me a minute to speak with him privately.”

“What are you planning on saying?” Spencer asks as I keep thumbing through the pictures. The guy who's been texting us lets us know that's all he has, but says if we have any questions to let him know. I plan to grill him later. For now, I just focus on Mr. Murphy.

“I'm not sure, but I'll figure it out; I have all night.”

“Good, back to cooking then?” Tobias asks, and I nod, turning just in time to get a cupcake in the face from Micah.

“You … fucking ass pig!” I shout, and even though the kitchen's a mess by the time I'm done with my revenge, I do manage to peg him right in the face with a custard tart.

All's fair in love and war.

The physical fitness test is being held from eight in the morning until around noon. Of course, I'm the only student in the entire school that's excused from it.

That doesn't make me stand out at all.

“Hey Carson,” Eugene calls out, flicking a jock strap at my face as I head down the hall. “Nice to see being the headmaster's son comes with so many benefits.” Fucking prick. I flip him off, but that's pretty much the extent of what I can do right now. He's got six of his huge football friends behind him. They could kick my ass in their sleep.

Currently, I'm on my way to the library. That's where I'm supposed to be for the whole day, but first, I'm going to snag Mr. Murphy and pull him aside to talk.

Since the entire third year class is present outside the gym, most of the administrators are on-hand for supervision, but don't have much to do but mill around while the health and fitness teachers handle the actual testing.

I slip in the side door and look around for Lionel Murphy (I know, the name is hilarious, I thought so, too) and his head of sandy blond hair. He's not hard to spot, sitting on the edge of the bleachers and working on some papers as a couple of the PE teachers open the main doors and start herding students into the locker room.

It's a bit medieval, this whole fitness test nonsense. Then again, just think about where we are right now: Adamson All-Boys Academy. Of course there's going to be some, uh, outdated practices going on.

“Mr. Murphy?” I start, pausing next to him. He glances up and puts this ridiculously handsome smile on his face.

“Mr. Carson. How are you?”

“I'm fine,” I say, sitting down next to him and wondering how best to go about this. There's a reason I offered to be the one to do this. Ranger's too aggressive, Spencer's too much of a wildcard, and the twins ... well, they can be a bit much. Church might've been okay, but he really only has two switches. He's extremely protective of Ranger, so if Mr. Murphy were to say the wrong thing ... “Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?”

“Absolutely,” he says, putting his paperwork aside, and turning to give me his full attention. “Is this something private? Would you like to go to my office to discuss it?”

I consider that for a moment, but then ... what if Mr. Murphy was the guy with the knife? I mean, he seems nice and all, but I try to remember what Church said. “Psychopaths don't feel human emotion per se, but are extremely skilled in imitating it.” It's probably safer if I don't go back to his office.

“No, this is fine,” I start, glancing over to find the Student Council watching me as they make their way into the locker room. I only look at them for a second before I turn back to Mr. Murphy.

“Whatever it is, I'm an open book,” he tells me, settling in to wait. I meet his blue eyes for a moment, and then exhale, pulling my phone from my bag and selecting the picture of him with his arm around Jenica Woodruff.

When I show it to him ... it's like he's seen a ghost. The color drains from his face, and he snaps his attention from my phone screen to my face.

“What is this?” he asks, like he hasn't the slightest clue.

“Ranger Woodruff's sister, Jenica, and you. You guys made a cute couple,” I add, throwing that in there to see if he catches it. Based on the way he grimaces, I think he does.

“I'm sorry, but I can't discuss anything regarding the Jenica Woodruff case, not without losing my job. If you'll excuse me.” Mr. Murphy stands up, and I follow after, trailing behind him as he heads in the direction of the locker room.

“But you were dating, right?” I ask, but he says nothing, continuing forward at a brisk pace. I almost have to jog to keep up. “That's all we want to know. Nobody will talk about her. Doesn't that seem strange for a suicide victim? This isn't exactly a murder investigation.”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Carson, I have to go.” Mr. Murphy steps into the office in the corner, basically closing the door in my face. He then immediately closes the blinds and shuts himself off from me.

Wow.

Just ... wow.

Cursing under my breath, I turn and head for the main doors, striding across the gym at a brisk pace.

“Alright, let's go,” one of the gym teachers says, grabbing onto my arm and yanking me toward the locker room. “We don't have all day. Trust me, none of us is looking forward to this, so let's get it over with promptly, shall we?”

“I'm excused from the test,” I blurt in a panic as he shoulders his way through the double doors. “Chuck Carson, headmaster's son.”

“Nobody's excused from the physical fitness test,” the man—I don't even know his name because I don't take PE—says as he releases me into a sea of … dicks.

So. Many. Dicks.

Dicks in all shapes, sizes, and colors.

“Oh my god,” I choke as the teacher excuses himself, leaving me trapped in a nightmare of penis proportions. I mean epic proportions. Epically terrifying.

I'm interested in dudes as much as the next straight girl, but ... um. There are definitely too many foreign cocks in here to be anything but freaky.