Inside the bagel shop, Darcy ordered a coffee, Lyla grabbed a Red Bull. As they waited in line to pay, they were drawn to the TV on the wall behind the counter. News footage of a female TV reporter standing near the Ames graveyard got Lyla's attention. Her eyes grew wide.

"In a bizarre story out of Elks County, a man appears to have been killed by his own runaway truck when apparently, he was standing in the vehicle's path when the parking brake malfunctioned."

Next, a photo of Taj filled the screen as the reporter continued, "Norman "Taj" Berletage was pronounced dead at the scene of a family burial plot where a separate body was discovered in a freshly-dug, shallow grave."

Back to the reporter. "Police are trying to identify the body and determine Berletage's relationship to the deceased. For FOX News, I'm Karen Holloway."

"Killed by his own truck?" Darcy rolled her eyes. "The world is a dumber place without that genius."

Lyla forced a feeble smile.

"I got this," said Darcy, handing the cashier her card.

"Thanks," Lyla mumbled.

Darcy pushed open the door, exiting the store, her friend trailing.

En route through the parking lot, Lyla surprised her best friend with a tight hug, nearly spilling her coffee in the process.

"Darcy, I am so sorry for making you worry. And I'm sorry you're so upset."

"Upset doesn't begin to describe it," she growled.

Lyla released her grip. The wall that she had been building for weeks came crashing down and raw emotion gushed out. With tears spilling from her eyes, she wailed, "I can't stand this anymore. Please don't hate me. I need you."

"I could never hate you, Lyla. I'm trying to be your best friend. Why won't you let me?"

"Even when I think about the words in my head." She gulped down the end of the sentence and started again. "I'm a terrible person."

Darcy wrapped her arms around her friend who trembled with deep sobs.

"You're not a terrible person. If you got into some kind of trouble just tell me. I'm not a child. I'll understand."

Lyla sobbed harder. While patting her friend's back, Darcy said, "They say secrets can grow teeth if you hold them in too long."

"Who says that?"

"Well, I just did. And it's true."

Lyla believed it was true. Her secrets had not only grown teeth but sharp claws, too. They were tearing her apart but she couldn't let them out. Not even to Darcy. Not ever.

Seeing that Lyla wouldn't be coaxed into a confession, Darcy smiled and said, "We'll figure it out."

Lyla sighed and managed to compose herself. "It's a big ask. I know," she said. "But if we could please just put this aside for right now, and just be friends. Please. I really need you."

Darcy shook her head. "You don't deserve me. You know that, right?"

Lyla smiled and wiped the tears from her face.

They got into Darcy's car and drove to school.

The school day began with Ms. Okumura's American History class. Most students chose to ignore Lyla, but she felt haters' eyes. She turned to find Alison glaring at her.

"Nice face," said Alison in a hoarse whisper. "Wish I was the one who gave you that black eye. Slut."

Lyla turned away.

By lunchtime, the ice had begun to thaw. Darcy finally spoke to her. It wasn't the usual best friend banter, but it was better than the cold shoulder.

Lyla could barely keep her eyes open in her sixth-period bio class. Like sitting in a steam bath, her perspiration-coated forearms stuck to the wooden chair. The droning voice of Mister Paulson buzzed in her ears like an annoying insect.

She glanced over at Darcy.

Darcy made a gun with her fingers, put it into her mouth, pulled the "trigger," and slumped forward on the desk, her eyes crossed, her tongue hanging out.

Lyla cracked up. When she glanced out the window toward the soccer field her smile fell.

A solitary figure stood motionless.

Her heart rate jumped, her mind went blank.

It was the track and field coach. The cross country team appeared from behind the bleachers and ran the perimeter of the field.

Lyla caught her breath.

It's over. Nothing to be scared of. It's over.