Could she have kissed a killer? What did a killer kiss like? Could a killer be as warm as David had been? Was that what made him so attractive to her? Was that the thing she had recognized in him from the very first moment she saw him, when something about his face reminded her so strongly of something she knew, something she wanted to fight?

Or Ellie, skipping along now in her trash bags like a deranged ballerina? Could she have playfully led Hayes into that tunnel with a bottle of wine? Told him to just go ahead?

Germaine Batt followed them for a bit. She said nothing, but was always just a few footsteps behind. Stevie could practically feel her listening for hints as to what was going on. She would have followed them all the way to Minerva if she could, but at the juncture with the collection of statue heads, a group of her housemates turned in the direction of Juno and Stevie loudly wished her goodnight. Germaine squinted a bit in frustration, but she left with the others.

“You guys are being really quiet,” Janelle said.

“Just feeling all excited,” Nate said stiffly. “From dancing.”

“Have either of you ever been to a dance before?”

“Nope,” they answered in unison.

The night had a theatrical quality to it. The moon was obligingly low and yellow. A huge harvest moon, furiously bright in the clear, dark sky. Like a spotlight.

“Do you have some kind of idea what you’re doing?” Nate asked Stevie quietly.

“Some kind of idea,” she said. “But you won’t like it.”

29

ONCE INSIDE, PIX DUTIFULLY CHECKED THEM ALL IN AND WENT UP TO bed. It looked like Ellie and David were about to go to their rooms when Stevie said, “Who wants to play a game?”

Nate threw her a confused look.

“What game?” Ellie said.

“I never,” Stevie replied.

“I like that game,” Ellie replied. “David, come play. I’ll get us some wine. We can’t play it without wine.”

“Then we should play in someone’s room,” he said.

“Let’s go to my room,” Ellie said.

Nate gave Stevie a look, a concerned look, but Stevie nudged him on.

Ellie’s room, while technically the same size and shape as Stevie’s, was a kind of different world. The walls were covered in sketches and flyers written in French. There was a ratty rug on the floor that was embedded with a thick smell of incense. There were loads of mugs and cups and bowls from the kitchen, all dirty and some collecting mold. Pens and paper were all over the floor, and dried candle wax spilled on the edges of the furniture.

“You’ve all played, right?” Ellie said, settling herself on a cushion on the floor and pulling a bottle of wine out from between her bedside stand and bed. “You start by saying I never, and then you give an action. If you’ve never done it, you don’t drink. But if you have, you confess by drinking. It’s simple. I’ll show you. I’ve never made out with anyone in this room.”

She smiled broadly and looked over at David. David side-eyed her.

Neither Stevie nor David moved at first, then Stevie reached for the bottle and took a very tiny sip, just enough that the wine touched her lips and the scent flooded her nose. She set the bottle down, and David slowly reached for it.

Ellie laughed.

“And that’s how it’s done,” Ellie said. “Now you, Nate.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ve never been to a dance before tonight.”

“You said that earlier,” Janelle said.

“Nothing in the rules about established facts,” he replied.

Janelle sighed deeply and took a short sip, then Ellie, then David.

Janelle was next. “I’ve never started a fire,” she said.

Only Ellie drank, and she took a long sip. Now it was David’s turn. He leaned back against Ellie’s bed and stroked his chin for a moment.

“I’ve never gone through someone else’s room,” he said.

Stevie paused, and then drank. This caused everyone to look at her, but no one said a word. It was Stevie’s turn now.

“I’ve never taken something that didn’t belong to me,” she said.

Janelle and Stevie didn’t drink. Nate did—at least he lifted the bottle.

“Pretend I drank,” he said.

“Oh, no,” Ellie said. “You have to drink. What did you take?”

“Who hasn’t taken something?” Nate said. “Everyone does that. How can you go through life without taking something that doesn’t belong to you, even by accident?”

“That’s true,” Janelle said, reaching for the bottle. “This game is kind of intense, and I don’t really drink, so . . . I may be out.”

“Then I’ll have to play,” Ellie said, reaching behind her to get Roota. The saxophone was resting next to her bureau.

Roota.

What had Ellie said about Roota? I had to have her. I didn’t have the money at the time, but I found a way. I made a little art, I got a little cash, I got Roota.

“How much was Roota?” Stevie said as Ellie went to put the mouthpiece in her mouth. “I was thinking about maybe getting an instrument.”

This got disbelieving looks from most present.

“About five hundred bucks,” Ellie said. “But worth it. She’s been a true friend.”

Five hundred dollars.

“And when did you get her? In the spring?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, looking a touch more uncomfortable.

“You said you earned the money by making art. What did you do?”

Now Ellie was shifting in her seat a bit.

“Sold some drawings and stuff,” she said.

“Five hundred dollars’ worth of drawings,” Stevie said. “That’s really good. How many other times have you sold drawings?”

“A few,” Ellie said. “Look, if we’re not going to play and we’re not going to drink, everyone can leave.”

Nate looked at Stevie. He knew. He understood. Janelle started to get up, but Stevie motioned for her to stay.

“Why don’t we talk about Hayes for a second,” Stevie said. “It seems like we should, you know, take a moment.”

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “I’m not feeling that.”

“What are you doing, Stevie?” David asked. He was smirking but there was real concern in his voice.

“The thing about Hayes,” Stevie said, “he kind of took stuff that wasn’t his. He would have had to drink just then. He had other people do his work. Like me. Like Nate. Like Gretchen. Ever do any work for Hayes, Ellie?”

Ellie’s eyes were locked on Stevie now. They were such a light brown that they were almost a gold color.

“What are you even talking about?” Ellie said.

“Yeah, Stevie,” David said. “What are you talking about?”

“Weird thing,” Stevie said. “Hayes himself told me that he made The End of It All in Florida at the start of last summer. He lied. He made it on June fourth, and Ellingham closed for the summer on the sixth.”

“What?” Ellie said. “I . . .”

“I know this because I went through his room,” Stevie cut in. “I go through rooms. I’m the worst. I get curious when things don’t make sense. But I found some things out. I found out Hayes lied. He made the show here, and he didn’t make it alone. And last spring, he borrowed five hundred dollars from Gretchen, his ex-girlfriend, that he never paid back. And you paid five hundred dollars for making some art last spring and bought Roota.”