“Fine,” he said. “Just hanging out with some friends.”

He walked unsteadily over to another skateboarder who had been watching the whole thing and recording it with a phone. David reached up and the guy gave him the phone, then the attackers rolled off on their skateboards.

“What just happened?” Stevie said. “Come on. I’m taking you to . . . Is there an urgent care or a hospital or . . .”

This was to Hunter, who was still staring at David.

“Yeah,” he said. “My car is just a few streets over. I’ll get it.”

“I’m not going,” David said, holding up his hands.

“David, stop.”

“I’ll call 911,” Hunter said.

“No, no,” David said. “No cops.”

He sat down on the curb and examined his phone. Stevie turned to look at Hunter, who was watching all of this in total confusion.

“Hunter,” she said. “Can I have a minute?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter said, backing away. “I’m going back. I’ll . . .”

“Yeah.”

He headed off the way they had come, looking back once or twice.

“You work fast,” David said, still looking at his phone.

“What?”

“Your new buddy. I’m very happy for you both. When will you be announcing the big day?”

“Would you shut up?” she said. She sat next to him. “Let me see.”

This time, he did not move away. He even stuck out his head to let her get a better look at his cheek.

“How is it?” he said.

“It looks deep. You need to go to the hospital, and then we need to get the police.”

“Why?” David said, rubbing at the blood with his sleeve. “It’s not illegal to get your ass kicked in Vermont, is it?”

“It’s illegal for them to hit you.”

“Not if you pay them. I mean, maybe it is. I’m not a lawyer.”

“What do you mean if you pay them? You paid someone—”

“Hang on,” he said. He did something with his phone, then nodded in satisfaction. “There,” he said, pocketing it. “Uploaded.”

“To what?”

“YouTube. To Hayes’s old channel.”

“What?”

“See, I’m not completely useless,” he said. “I can hack a YouTube channel. Now, this has been fun, but you have somewhere to be, right?”

“I don’t understand,” Stevie said, shaking her head. “Are you doing this because of what I did?”

“You?” He laughed, and a little blood trickled from his mouth. “You? Not everything is about you.”

He spit some blood into the street, which caused a woman nearby to move away with her small child. David smiled his bloody smile at them.

“I’m not leaving you,” she said. “I don’t care if you want me to go. You need to go to the doctor.”

“If you won’t go, I will.”

“I’ll follow you.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re worried that your deal with my dad is off and he’s going to come down in his helicopter and whisk you away.”

“I’m worried that you just got your face beaten in and you seem to like it.”

“I’m touched. Why don’t you go back to whoever your new friend is.”

“Why are you such a dickhead?” she yelled.

“I think you know the answer to that. I think I told you everything. That was a good move on my part. I think I’ve finally learned the benefit of confiding in others. I’ve grown.”

“Am I supposed to say I’m sorry?” she said. As the words came out, she realized she had no idea what the answer was to that question. David cocked his head in interest. Something curious passed over his expression—something Stevie could not make out.

“Probably,” he said. “But we’re past that now.” He spit some more blood onto the street. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I think you have bigger problems than I do. At least I know I’m messed up.”

He pushed himself up from the curb and started walking in the direction of the lakefront, dabbing at his face with his scarf. Stevie paced in a circle, unsure of what to do, then bolted to follow him.

“Why did you upload it?” she said. “Why did you pay to get yourself beat up?”

“I have my own plans,” he said. “They don’t involve you.”

“David.” Stevie skipped a step and got in front of him to block him. He walked around her. He moved around again. At this point, blocking him would look like a ridiculous dance, so she continued alongside, keeping up with his brisk stride.

“You want the story?” she said. “Your dad showed up at my house, out of the blue. He had folders full of information about security systems. He talked my parents into letting me back. He took me right to the airport. On the plane, I asked him what he wanted, because I don’t think your dad does this kind of stuff because he’s a nice guy.”

“Good call,” David said, tucking his hands into his pockets. People were looking at him as they passed; it was impossible not to.

“That’s when he said he was sending me back because he thought you would chill the fuck out if I was there. I didn’t tell you because . . .”

“Because . . .”

“Because how do I tell you that?”

“You use your words,” he said.

“And you would have done what?”

David stopped.

“If you told me?” he said. “I would have understood. I know my dad. But you didn’t tell me. You waited until I found my friend dead and decaying on the floor in a tunnel and then you unloaded on me.”

“Because I felt bad,” she said. “I don’t know how to do these things. I’m not . . . I’m not good. With people.”

“No,” he said. “You’re not.”

“And neither are you. You told me your parents were dead.”

“So I guess we’re even,” he said simply. “You’ll be fine. Until my dad sees the video, I guess. Oh, and the fact that I’m not going back to Ellingham. That could be a problem. But you’ll work it out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m not going back to Ellingham,” he said.

“So you just got your face beat in and now you’re leaving school?”

“You got it! Well done.”

“Why?” she said.

“Again, that’s for me to know. You can work out some new deal with Eddie. Why don’t you tell him you’ll find me and bring me back. That might work. You’re good at finding people.”

“David . . .”

She reached for his arm, but he roughly shrugged it away.

“This is where we leave each other,” he said.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Fine. I’ll jump in the lake. Want to swim? It’s a little cold and rough, but swimming is the best exercise.”

It was impossible to tell with David if this was a joke, and the lake was just at the end of the street.

“Turn around,” he said. “I’m serious about the lake.”

Tears were streaming down Stevie’s face now. It was odd. Stevie did not cry often, and never in public. David watched this with a clinical interest for a moment, then turned and continued in the direction of the waterfront.

Stevie did not follow. Too many bad things had happened in that lake. She was not going to be part of another.

She had to let him go.

By the time Stevie returned to campus, the video of David getting his face beaten in had ten thousand views. Stevie refreshed the page and watched the number go up. Most of the comments were confused, understandably. People came to this channel to watch a show about zombies. And now the zombie guy was dead and in his place was this rando getting punched.

She obsessively checked her phone for texts from him and wondered if she should send something, but there was silence on both ends. Hunter, however, had been in touch several times. Stevie was cagey with her answers. This was hard to explain.

On her return to Minerva, the house was quiet. There was no fire in the fireplace, but things were warm.

Now there were three. Hayes, dead. Ellie, dead. David . . .

How had she lived before this madness? How did she cope? Coping just . . . happened. Reality continued to unwind its sinuous path, and she walked it.

She texted Nate to come downstairs, then went to Janelle’s door. It was cracked open a few inches. She was sitting on the floor on a fuzzy cushion, a video about SpaceX playing on her computer, bits of Arduino scattered around her. She was leaning over, looking into her wall mirror, a small pile of eye shadow palettes next to her, delicately applying color with a brush.

“What do you think,” she said, turning to reveal one eye stunningly made up in a range of oranges, reds, and yellows. “It’s a sunset eye. Does it look like a sunset? I think it may be too orange.”

“I need to talk to you,” Stevie said.

Janelle spun in her direction and paused the video. Stevie shut the door and sat on the floor.

“There’s some stuff I need to tell you about,” she said.

“With David?”

“Yeah. You noticed?”

“You want to be a detective, but you’re the least subtle person I’ve ever met,” Janelle said. “You need to work on that. What’s going on?”

“This is a secret,” Stevie said. “A serious one.”

Janelle’s forehead wrinkled in worry. Her one sunset eye cast an uneasy glance at Stevie. There was a knock, and Nate poked his head in when Janelle called.

“What?” he said. “This is a meeting or something?”

“I need you guys,” Stevie said. “You need to hear this.”