Free One of Us Is Next by Karen M. McManus Page B

she makes a face at it. “Is it four already? Evan’s outside.”
    “What? Evan Neiman ?” My voice ticks up on the last name. “What’s he doing here?”
    “Giving me a ride to Yumiko’s,” Bronwyn says, draining the last of her latte. “She’s having a bunch of people from our old Mathlete team over to watch something Avengers-related. Don’t ask me what. You know I don’t care.” She stuffs her phone in her bag and peers into its depths. “Ugh, did I forget my prescription sunglasses? I’m so bad at keeping track of those. I hardly ever need them in Connecticut.”
    “Why is Evan taking you? Isn’t he at Caltech?”
    Bronwyn is still rooting around in her bag. “Yeah, but he and Yumiko hang out sometimes. And he was at Yale last month for a Debate Club Smackdown, so…aha! Here they are.” I clear my throat loudly and she finally glances up, her bright blue glasses case in one hand. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
    “Evan?”
    She shifts in her chair. “It’s not a big deal.”
    “You getting a ride from your ex, after you just finished angsting about how you can’t make things work with your other ex, is not a big deal?” I fold my arms. For someone so smart, my sister can be ridiculously naïve. “Come on. I spent half my life in a cancer ward and even I know that’s a bad idea.”
    “Evan and I are just friends who happened to date a long time ago. Like you and Knox.”
    “No, it’s not at all like me and Knox. That was mutual. You dumped Evan for Nate and Evan moped about it for the rest of senior year. He wrote poetry. Have you forgotten ‘Kilns of Despair’? Because I have not. And now he’s driving two and a half hours on a Thursday to watch Iron Man with you?”
    “I don’t think it’s Iron Man ,” Bronwyn says doubtfully.
    “Focus, Bronwyn. That’s not the point. Evan is carrying a torch, and everybody knows it except you.” I brandish the saltshaker at her like it’s covered in flames, but I end up spilling it, and then I have to do the whole over-the-shoulder ritual. Bronwyn takes advantage of my distraction to get to her feet and corral me in a one-armed hug. She’s starting to look worried, but her ride is outside, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she calculates the awkwardness quotient of backing out now. Too high.
    “I have to go. See you at home,” she says. “I’ll be back before dinner.” She loops her messenger bag over one shoulder and heads for the door.
    “Make good choices,” I call after her.
    I glance around the café as the door shuts behind her. Phoebe is working today, her brow knitted in concentration as she jots down an order from two beanie-wearing hipsters. Ever since Sean Murdock’s infuriating Wing Zone triumph, people have been acting like Bayview High Truth or Dare is a hilarious new game. A text went out yesterday from Unknown— The next player has been contacted. Tick-tock —and now everyone is taking bets on who it is and what they’ll choose. Given how the first two rounds have gone, odds favor the Dare.
    It’s like everyone at Bayview High has forgotten that Simon was a real person who ended up suffering more than anyone from the way he used gossip as a weapon. But all you have to do is look at Phoebe’s sad eyes and hollow cheeks to know there’s nothing funny about any of this.
    I pull my laptop out of my bag and open the new About That website, where Sean’s Wing Zone chicken photo is prominently displayed. There’s a comment section below, and when people aren’t congratulating Sean, they’re speculating about the identity of Unknown.
    It’s Janae Vargas, guys. Finishing what Simon started. I don’t buy that one for a second. Simon’s former best friend couldn’t get out of Bayview fast enough when she graduated. She goes to college in Seattle now, and I don’t think she’s been back once.
    Madman Matthias Schroeder, obvs.
    Simon himself. He’s not dead, he just wanted us to