Free Deadly Cool by Gemma Halliday

I logged onto the HHH website to check what today’s homework was. Study notes for a history quiz on Monday, sentences to diagram for English, and three pages of equations from Mrs. Blasberg. Fab. I pulled my books out of my backpack and figured I might as well attempt to pass my classes this semester. Unfortunately, I had a hard time concentrating when my entire being was focused on watching for that little “online now” icon to appear next to Josh’s name. I worked with one eye on the clock, one eye on my screen, sending random glances toward my paper as I solved sentences and diagrammed equations. Or maybe it was the other way around. Like I said, I wasn’t really paying that close attention.
    8:59
    I finished my trig and English and took up vigil at my computer.
    9:02
    Come on, Josh, where are you?
    9:08
    I started chanting, “Log on, log on, log on, log on” to the tune of “I’m a Little Teapot.”
    9:12
    Maybe he didn’t get my message earlier. Maybe he wasn’t watching the MySpace account after all. Maybe he created it and forgot about it. Maybe Raley had nabbed him and he was sitting in a jail cell right now, rotting away, wishing his girlfr— ex- girlfriend—had been more vigilant about finding Courtney’s real killer.
Hey.
    I let out a sigh of relief so loud I feared Mom would hear it over her Exercise TV On Demand downstairs.
You’re late.
Sorry. Had 2 find a computer.
Where did u find one?
Apple store. I’m “testing” one out. Don’t have much time b4 salesguy catches on.
    I couldn’t help a little grin. Very inventive.
    What’s up? he asked.
    That was a loaded question. But, considering he had an employee working on commission hovering over his shoulder, I decided to get right to the point.
Did you text Courtney yesterday?
    There was a pause on his end. I hoped it meant he was trying to remember and not that his test-drive time had expired.
    Why? he finally typed
    Hmm . . . answering a question with a question. Classic evasion tactic. Not that I was falling for it.
Caitlyn said you texted CC after school. True?
    This time his answer was immediate.
No.
    I felt a sigh of relief escape me.
Really? You didn’t send her a text? Telling her to meet at your house?
NO!
    Okay, it didn’t mean the whole condom-in-the-locker and rumor-mill things were total crap, but at least my faith in his innocence wasn’t totally misplaced.
Then who sent the text?
I dunno. Someone is trying to set me up.
    And doing a good job of it if the detective stalking me was any indication.
Why?
I don’t know. But I swear I didnt tell Corntey to meet at my house.
    I ignored the spelling mistake, instead pursing my lips and digesting this information. Did I believe him? Mostly. Probably. Maybe. He hadn’t racked up a whole lot of points in the trustworthy department lately.
    On the other hand, it was pretty convenient how all evidence led straight to Josh. Too convenient. And, as anyone who has ever watched TV knows, when a trail of clues seems too good to be true, it usually is.
    Still there? Josh typed.
    I nodded at the screen.
Ya.
Miss u.
    I bit my lip. And told myself to ignore the way my stomach suddenly felt warm and squishy. I didn’t care if he missed me. I didn’t care what he felt. He had no feelings as far as I was concerned. Neither did I. This was about finding a killer. Not about missing anyone.
    I have to go , I typed.
W8!
What?
Thnx. ur the best.
    I quickly logged off before I could type anything stupid back.
    Like, I miss you, too.

EIGHT
    “MY PARENTS THREATENED TO SEND ME TO A CONVENT.” Sam took a bite of her egg salad sandwich, a small glob of mayo hanging on the corner of her mouth. “And we’re not even Catholic!”
    I shook my head in sympathy. “Dude.”
    After his chat with my mother, Raley had visited Sam’s parents, giving them much the same sort of heart attack he’d given my mom. Only Sam’s parents were already in hyperprotective mode, having seen Courtney’s picture on the