Fifteen minutes later, she was called to the Principal's office. All eyes were on her as she made her way out of the classroom. When she approached the office, Emily was exiting. She mouthed the word, "bitch." Lyla didn't react.

She took a seat in the Vice Principal's office. The intimidating and humorless Ms. Worthington was well-suited to her job.

"I need you to identify the girls in this picture." She handed her phone to Lyla.

A terrifying close-up photo of Keenan jolted her. His eyes burned with rage, his mouth hung wide open in a ghastly scream. The phone tumbled from her jittery hands.

"I know this is upsetting." Ms. Worthington retrieved the phone. "But we need to get to the bottom of this. We've identified the boy. Who are these two girls?"She gestured to the selfie that Emily had taken.

"I'm not positive." Lyla lowered her eyes.

"As I'm sure you are aware this school has a zero-tolerance policy for bullying. Any student who fails to assist with an investigation is subject to suspension or expulsion."

She peered at the painful photo of the lipstick assault.

"Is the girl on the left Nicole Travis?" Ms. Worthington pressed.

"Yes." She nodded reluctantly.

"And the girl on the right?"

"That's Lexie Doyle."

"Shall we call a parent to pick you up from school?"

"No, don't do that."

Ms. Worthington put down her pen and gave Lyla a penetrating look.

"Could I be excused from gym?" she asked.

"I think we can arrange that."

Lyla had always loathed gym class. She especially detested playing sports. She sucked at baseball, unable to hit or catch the ball. Basketball, volleyball, and field hockey were no better. She couldn't blame players for not picking her for their teams.

With her bookbag slung over her shoulder, she left the Vice Principal's office then descended the stairs at the end of the hallway into the gym. She walked the perimeter of the gym watching the girls engaged in a fierce game of volleyball. One of the girls glared at Lyla, and mouthed the word "slut." She turned away.

"Lyla Perry?" Coach Evers shouted over the players' grunts and cheers. She waved her toward the rear exit with an authoritative gesture.

She followed the Coach down a dimly lit hallway. A custodian pushed a cart toward them, loaded with duffel bags stuffed with wet towels. He stopped at the top of the staircase, which led to the basement laundry room. He began slinging heavy canvas bags down the marble stairs.

As Lyla and the Coach squeezed past the cart, she watched the custodian heave a bag of laundry. But it wasn't a duffel bag that landed on the steps and rolled to the bottom, it was the body of Keenan Ames. He thrashed down the stairs, his arms flailing wildly, his gashed head barely attached to his broken neck as it bounced against the hard marble. Blood sprayed from his facial wounds and splattered the walls.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She followed the sound of the Coach's rubber soles squeaking against the polished floor.

"You can use my office for this period." Coach Evers flicked the light switch. The overhead fluorescent lights hummed. The Coach jogged back toward the gym.

Lyla dropped into the coffee-stained wheelie chair at the desk. In this secluded spot, she found refuge from the haters. She was determined to finish The Awakening so she could take the make-up exam. She found her place in the novel and began reading.

A dull thud distracted her. The sound repeated in a slow rhythmic pattern as it drew closer. She glanced up from her book. A basketball rolled out of the dark hallway, through the doorway into the office, and came to rest against the desk.

"Hello?" She called out, her voice sounding hollow.

The fluorescent lights flickered and went out, leaving Lyla in the dark. Her pulse raced. She heard only the distant sounds from the gym.

She stood and slowly stepped around the desk toward the light switch. Her eyes strained as she scanned the shadows on her way toward the office door. Her hand fumbled for the light switch.

Blink, blink, blink, the light bulbs came to life.

She screamed when she found someone in the doorway. Carissa stood, arms crossed, her fiery eyes on Lyla.