“Don’t you even want to know?” he asked, anger sharpening his words.

“Not really.”

He shot in front of me, blocking my path between two cars. “What is with you? You’re acting like we weren’t together for almost four years, Sammy. Four years and you can’t even give me the time of day?”

There was a good chance that the pills might be kicking in ahead of schedule, because I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even sad. Looking up at him, I felt nothing but general disappointment. Maybe it wasn’t the pills—just a sign that I was moving on from this.

Kind of like how everyone seemed to be moving on from Cassie.

I shouldered my backpack and squinted. “I’m sorry. I know we spent a long time together—”

“But since you can’t remember it, you don’t care? Well, I do. I remember it and I care.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” I sighed, glancing over his shoulder. If Scott caught Del blocking me like this, he’d end up with another black eye. “I know you care about that time, and believe it or not, so do I.”

“Good.” He sounded hopeful. “At least that’s a common ground.”

“Not in that way. I care about you, and maybe one day I’ll forgive you for those pictures, but even if I did, we aren’t getting back together.”

He reached for my hand, but I pulled away. Hurt flickered across his face, but behind that was stubbornness and something darker and stronger than I cared to see. At least I knew the pills didn’t totally squash my emotional compass.

“Can’t we just go somewhere and talk?”

My mouth dried. “You have practice.”

“Screw practice. Our relationship is more important than a damn practice.”

“I’m not more important. Baseball means a lot to you.”

“That’s not true.” He looked as if I’d hit him upside the head with a concrete block, as if he couldn’t believe I’d disagree. “We need to talk this out.”

Apprehension was growing rapidly, and it made me impatient to get away from him. “I need you to understand this, Del. We aren’t getting back together. Not now. Not a week from—”

“It’s true, then? What I heard in practice yesterday? That you’re going to prom with Carson?”

I wasn’t answering that question, because I knew it would be like opening Pandora’s box and letting out a slew of angry problems. So I stepped around him and picked up my pace. Just a few more rows of cars, and I’d be free of Del. Just a few more steps…

“Damn it, Sammy!”

The anger in his voice caused me to jump, but I didn’t look back. He’d turn my going to the dance with Carson into my choosing someone else over him. And Carson had nothing to do with Del. They weren’t even in the same league.

Why was Del so determined to patch things? Another mystery I couldn’t solve or even begin to understand. During lunch this past week, Veronica had been all but sitting in his lap. It was obvious she liked him and was more than willing to take their friendship to the next level. A much better choice than me for several reasons.

I jogged down a row, passing a dusty red Jeep, when something darted along my peripheral vision. My heart stuttered unevenly, and chills skittered up and down my spine. A loud buzzing filled my ears.

No. It’s not real.

Again, on the other side of me, the figure moved, matching my steps. Air froze in my throat. Stress-induced hallucinations—panic attacks. That was what Dr. O’Connell had called them. If I got too upset, I’d start seeing things.

That was all it was. Not real. Not there.

Keeping my eyes trained on the sleek black sedan Scott had rented, I dug around in my bag for the bottle of emergency pills. I didn’t have anything to swallow the pill down with, but I had to make do. My heart was pounding way too fast, my vision now darkening at the corners.

Not real. Not real. Not real.

A hand clamped down on my arm, spinning me around. My scream got stuck in my throat, and the bottle of pills hit the gravel. Raising my arm, I prepared to strike.

“Hey!” Scott blocked my arm. “Calm down there, ninja.”

I pressed my hand over my thumping heart. “Jeez, you scared the crap out of me.”

“I can see.” He frowned, dropping down and grabbing my bottle. He handed it to me. “I called your name a couple of times. Didn’t you hear me?”

“No.” Shaken, I unscrewed the lid and dug out one tiny pill. “I didn’t hear you, but I thought…”

“Here.” He offered me his water. “You thought what?”

I downed the pill, wincing at the burn as it slid down my throat. “I thought I saw the shadow guy.”

Scott placed his arm around my shoulders, steering me toward the car. “I think that may have been me, Sam. I was walking a few cars down, alongside you.”

Great. Even with the pills I still couldn’t figure out the difference between fact and fake.

“I was worried,” he continued, digging the keys out of his pocket. “I saw Del down at the entrance. He looked pissed.”

Not wanting to get into that, I didn’t respond and waited for Scott to unlock the door. Still struggling to control my breathing, I dropped into the front seat and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the blissful stupor to do its job, to make me feel normal again.

To help me forget that not everything was perfect, that Cassie was still dead and I was still a suspect, and that growing feeling that something bad—something terrible—was waiting around the corner.

On Saturday, Julie arrived at my house. Not to hang out with Scott—although there was a lot of tongue action the first three minutes of her visit—but to go dress shopping with me.

A mass of knots had formed in my stomach, and I seriously considered taking one of the panic-attack pills, but I managed to convince myself I didn’t need it. I was tongue-tied and unsure of how to act around Julie, so a whole lot of awkwardness ensued.

Julie drove a rusty sedan that should have been laid to rest about a hundred thousand miles ago. Fumbling with the seat belt, I inhaled the scent of freesia and stale fast food.

It was kind of a homey combination.

“Okay,” she said, easing the car around Carson’s father’s work truck. “We have two options. We can shop in town or head into the city.”

“It’s up to you. I’m fine either way.” Dad had given me his credit card, but I doubted he would have eagerly handed it over if he knew who my date was. Right now, they thought I was going stag. I was going to have to ease them into the truth.

Her lips pursed. “Well, the city is going to give us more options, but most likely be out of my price range. So we can do both if you want?” She glanced at me. “Or I can window-shop with you.”

“No. We can stay in town. I’m sure I’ll find something here.”

Julie stared at me as if I’d just admitted to being abducted by aliens. “Are…you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m totally okay with that.” I started to chew on my pinkie nail on my left hand. “Is that bad?”

“No.” She blinked and then fiddled with the radio station. “It’s just that you could splurge on a dress and get a really nice one.”

But she couldn’t, and that didn’t seem fair. I shrugged. “A dress is a dress, right?”

She slammed on the brakes at the end of our road, pitching me forward. My eyes widened, expecting to see an animal or something in the middle of the road, but there was nothing. She slowly turned to me. “You are seriously freaking me out.”

Uh-oh.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” she hastily added. “It’s just that you are so, so different. Even the Sam I knew when we were friends would’ve demanded that we go to one of the designer shops in the city if she had gotten ahold of her dad’s card. Even if it was just for the fun of it.”

“Should we do that?” I would, if that was what she wanted. Deep down, I wanted her to actually have fun doing this, and maybe—just maybe—this could be the start of a friendship. Big hopes, I knew, but that was all I wanted: for her to like me.

Shaking her head, she laughed. “No. Staying in town works. Maybe we could get something to eat afterward?”

Optimism thrummed through me, and I nodded. “Sure.”

The town was packed with tourists when we parked behind a strip of old homes converted into various stores: gift shops, bakeries, and thrift stores. Slipping on a pair of sunglasses I’d found in my bedroom earlier, I stepped out of the car.

People were snapping pictures of historical houses and the plaques that seemed to be every ten feet in town. The one closest to us was dedicated to an unnamed fallen solider. My heart sort of tripped over that.

“That sucks,” I said.

“What?” She turned to see what I was staring at. “The monument?”

“The whole dying and no one even knowing who you are—being laid to rest without a name…or a history.” I pressed my lips together. “I guess it’s like that with Cassie. She’s dead and no one knows why. There’s no reason—just that she’s dead. The end.”

Julie placed her hand on my arm and squeezed. “The police will figure it out. They always do one way or another. She’ll get justice.”

My stomach pitched, and I forced a smile. “Yeah, they always do. At least on TV, right?”

She nodded, squeezed my arm once more, and sighed. “Okay. There’s this secondhand store down the street that sells these vintage dresses—not Civil War–era vintage.”

I laughed, letting go of Cassie and everything for the time being. “I hope not. I doubt showing up in a ball gown would be cool.”

“Scott would be pissed. He’d never figure out how to take it off.”

“Ew,” I moaned.

Looping her arm through mine, she giggled. “There’s this dress I’ve seen in there, and I’ve been kind of saving up for it.” Her eyes lit up with excitement and the kind of love only the perfect dress could bring, and now I understood why it was such a big deal. “It’s, like, this 1920s-style flapper dress with beads. Super flirty and just so cute. I hope they still have it.”

“I don’t know what to get,” I admitted. “Or what I like, to be honest.”

“Well, the evil Sammy”—she flashed me a grin—“would choose something that showed as much boobs and legs as humanly possible.”

“Great.” The bell rang over the door as we stepped into the store, which was a maze of racks. “What about the lovable Sam?”

Julie glanced over her shoulder with a frown. “Hmm, good question. Since you were, like, eleven, I’d go with your boobs not hanging out, and actually…actually, you didn’t wear a lot of dresses then. You were a jeans-and-shirt kind of girl.”

“That’s so helpful.” I grinned, following her toward the back, where dresses hung on the walls and filled the racks. A few other girls were there. “So, what dress are you in love with?”

Reaching up on the tips of her toes, she grabbed for a dress shoved behind several long, billowy dresses. I fell in love with what she pulled out instantly. Silvery and shimmery, it was as if a thousand stars had been sewn into the dress, and when she held it up, the overhead light made them sparkle.

Darting to my side, she grinned. “I totally hid it behind the other dresses.”

“I can see why. It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” She looked like she wanted to make out with the dress. “The only thing is, if I do buy this, I won’t have enough in time to buy shoes. And I don’t have anything in my closet that would do this baby justice.”

I ran my fingers over the intricate beads. “I think I have a pair of silver heels that would go with this dress, actually. They’re really strappy.” Julie’s eyes nearly crossed with awe. “And the heels are, like, four inches, but if you want to borrow them, have at it.”

“I think I love you,” she replied.

Smiling, I shrugged. “Your affection is easily won.”

“When it involves killer shoes? Yes.” She clutched the dress to her chest and squealed. “I’ve tried it on so many times I think the owner of the shop is going to start charging me. Oh! I’m thinking about wearing this wig I kept from last year’s school play. It’s this short bob thing that would work perfectly.”

She was in plays? “Yeah, it would go with the whole flapper thing.”

“And not to mention I think Scott would love it.” Her eyes glimmered with mischief. “It’s like he’s cheating on me with me.”

I laughed out loud at that and returned to thumbing through the racks. Gravitating toward the longer dresses, I went through several black and red ones before my fingers stopped on one that was such a pale shade of green it reminded me of sea foam. Unhooking the dress, I held it up.

The material was supple, and there was a tight band of the same color under the breast. The top, with its neckline, reminded me of the famous Marilyn Monroe dress on the grate. I couldn’t stop touching it.

“Oh, that would look perfect with your hair and complexion,” Julie commented.

My smile was tentative. “You think so?”

“Yes. You should definitely try it on.”

Taking the dress to the counter, I waited for the cashier to let me into the small changing rooms in the back. My back was to the window, and all of a sudden, I got this peculiar sensation…like if I turned around, someone would be standing right there.