Dad doesn’t get home until seven, every day, and it was only five. Which gave me time to think, and to call back my friends who’d constantly kept texting me while I was at the hospital.

When I flipped my phone open, it buzzed, and the small notice blinked. 23 NEW TEXTS

I’d just checked it earlier that day, during band! This was going to take a while.

As far as I knew, I thought Kelsie and I had been on good terms. Friendly, even. We’d gone out for a day or too, before I realized she was a complete bitch.

I never told her that, and she thought I was just not her type. She probably thought I was gay. I didn’t care.

But she murdered Phoebe. Why?

I sifted through the useless, “U OK?” texts, until I landed on one from Kelsie, sent at 4:56, only a few moments ago.

It read, “Hope ur not too teribly hurt.”

I hate abbreviated words, but was guilty of using them myself. I texted back, “I cant beleve u. Ur not gettin away w/ this.”

I turned off the phone, flipping it shut.