Catcher in the Rye was one of those books that seemed really simple on the surface—almost too easy to read. But it had layers and layers of depth to uncover if you were willing to do the work.

I tried to focus on the test, but it was difficult. My mind kept wandering all over the place. Still, I finished with twenty minutes left to go before class ended.

Someone knocked on the door and Mr. Saunders answered it. After a moment, he looked in my direction.

“Ms. Day?” He peered at me through his thick glasses. “You’ve been summoned to the guidance counselor’s office. You can finish tomorrow.”

“I’m finished already.” I got up uneasily and dropped my test at his desk, casting another glance toward Colin, who watched me from the back of the class, expressionless, before I left the room.

I’d spent a lot of time in Ms. Forester’s office during my shoplifting fiasco. She’d tried to make me feel comfortable about pouring out my soul about my parents’ divorce. About my feelings. And I did, to an extent, even though it made me uncomfortable to sit in an office and discuss emotions with someone I barely knew, who had a box of tissues at the ready for the tears of her students.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked Ms. Forester when I saw her. The door to her office, which was opposite the principal’s office, was ajar.

She beckoned to me. “Come in, Samantha.”

Ms. Forester was young, pretty, still in her twenties, with long, dark hair swept back off her face. She wore tight blouses and slim pencil skirts a couple inches over her knees, which I didn’t appreciate, but plenty of boys did.

I tentatively entered the small office and immediately saw a familiar face in one of the two chairs opposite the counselor’s desk.

Jordan was here, too. And the look she sent me was sharp enough to kill.

Chapter 13

Jordan tore that sour look away from me and twisted a long piece of red hair around her index finger. “Ms. Forester, I told you this isn’t necessary.”

“I think it is,” the counselor said calmly.

At least I knew what this was about. Jordan and me—we were bound forever by the horrible, tragic moment of Julie’s death. Jordan had composed herself well, now wearing a mask of indifference. However, it didn’t reach quite as far as her eyes, which still held that sharp edge of pain I’d seen there yesterday.

I wanted to dislike her as much as I always had, and, really, she hadn’t given me any reason to change my opinion about her. But my heart still ached for her loss. I knew far too well what it was like to lose a best friend—to lose Carly. At least I still had a sliver of hope that she might be found again. But Julie was gone.

I forced myself to sit down in the chair next to Jordan. “This is about what happened yesterday.”

“Yes.” Ms. Forester’s expression was grave. “I thought it would be a good idea to talk to you both together. Immediate grief counseling is essential when a close friend passes so suddenly. I didn’t want to waste any time before I let you both know I’m available to you whenever you need me.”

“Samantha wasn’t Julie’s friend,” Jordan said tightly. “I was.”

Ms. Forester’s gaze moved to her. “But she was there with you when it happened. You said so yourself.”

Jordan inhaled shakily. “That’s right.”

I waited for her to blame me in some way for what happened, like she had yesterday. But she didn’t say anything like that.

Damn. I hated this so much. I hated that something so real, so brutal had happened. Before, with all the supernatural struggle I’d experienced, I expected bad things around any given corner—but this...it was real. And I couldn’t make sense of it. I couldn’t rationalize someone doing that to themselves. Losing hope in mere minutes.

“Jordan’s right, I wasn’t Julie’s friend,” I said softly. “But what happened...I don’t understand it. Why would she do something like that?”

“I don’t know,” Jordan whispered. “I swear she wasn’t depressed before. She never even mentioned Colin. I shouldn’t have said the thing about the modeling agency. She was pretty enough to be a model. But I didn’t know she even wanted that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said.

That earned me a sharp, guarded look, but instead of saying anything she just frowned at me.

“You two can help each other,” Ms. Forester said, nodding. “Friends need to come together in times of grief.”

“We’re not friends,” I said.

“Definitely not,” Jordan agreed.

Ms. Forester flipped through the folders in front of her, gazing down at the small lines of handwriting. “Samantha, you’re friends with Carly Kessler, right? She recently left town. Not in the same tragic way as Julie did, but it’s still an unexpected loss.”

The mention of Carly was like a sucker punch to my gut. “It was.”

“Don’t ignore your feelings. Be real and work through them. It’s the only way to deal with these emotions.” She shook her head. “I wish I could do something to help these kids before it comes to this. It’s the fourth time since Friday a student has taken their own life.”

My gaze shot to her. “Fourth time? The fourth suicide?”

She nodded grimly. “Marville High had three deaths on Friday. There have been several others in Trinity in the last week, too.”