Grace looked like she was about to fall over again.

“And you didn’t help the situation,” I said flatly.

Grace frowned and asked, timidly, “What do you mean?”

“You’re a social loser. If you want Mena to be liked by me, Corrigan, and Bryce—she shouldn’t be hanging out with people like you and your brother. Whoever invited her to your party saw that she’d already been outcasted. Mena could’ve fought it and been fine, but you guys sent her the invitation because you saw someone ‘cool’ who could be in your crowd.”

Grace gasped and swayed on her feet.

I stood up. “Look, I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m just saying it because it’s true. And I’m not going to be duped into feeling guilty that Mena has some hurt feelings.

She knows the deal. If she wants back in, she’s gotta earn that respect. The rules apply to everyone.”

“Sheldon,” Mr. Sayword spoke up, across the classroom.

I turned and saw Corrigan at the door, watching me.

“Yeah?” I asked. I saw a note in Mr. Sayword’s hand.

“You’re wanted in the counselor’s office.”

My eyes caught and held Corrigan’s. We both thought the same thing, group therapy time.

“Fine,” I muttered and left the room. Corrigan fell in step beside me when he asked, “What was that about in there?”

“Just telling a social loser that she’s a social loser.” I remarked.

Three other students were there and we saw Bryce lounging against the wall. His eyes sharpened when he saw us and he pushed off from the wall. Corrigan booted the students off the couch and we sat down instead. Bryce leaned on the armrest near me until Miss Connors stuck her head out and gestured for all three of us.

“Come on back, guys.” She said, friendly.

She’d set up three plush chairs around her office and I saw, surprised, that it was cleaner than my last visit. Miss Connors looked tired, but professional with her outfit spot-clean and pristine.

She looked like a therapist.

“So,” she breathed out and sent another warm smile at us. At me. “How are you guys doing?”

Corrigan leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he remarked, “I’m having a hard time handling all the emotional distress that my two best friends have recently undertaken due to the traumatic loss that they witnessed.”

Bryce and I both laughed.

A grin slipped past Corrigan’s lips, but he added as he attempted to sound vulnerable, “I feel left out because I wasn’t there when they found her body, but I realized over the weekend that this was a pattern that’s been constructed since Bryce and Sheldon started sleeping together. Isn’t there a term for that? Peer isolation?”

I fought a grin, but Miss Connors rolled with it. She nodded and asked, “And when did that start?”

Bryce spoke this time, “First time we screwed was in freshman.”

“I remember.” Corrigan nodded. “It was that party when Trevor Bently thought he could score with Sheldon and you told him that she’d be busy with you instead.”

Bryce grinned. “And he punched me, hit like a girl.”

There had been no Trevor Bently, punching, or party when Bryce and I had first slept together. And that’s why I loved my two best friends so much. They were lying for me. She knew it. And they continued to lie.

Miss Connors shifted in her seat and stared at me. “I’m glad that you think this is a joke because I’m sure your friend would’ve thought the same about you. Wait—no, she wouldn’t have. Your friend probably would’ve cried if it had been you instead of her.

How do you feel about that, Sheldon?”

Bryce commented, “You’re a great counselor. You make people feel like shit.”

“No doubt,” Corrigan added his two cents.

“And when the two of you stop talking for Sheldon, maybe we can actually get somewhere instead of all three of you jerking my chain,” Miss Connors said briskly.

“Sheldon, I asked you a question. How do you think Leisha would’ve reacted if your places were switched?”

Bryce opened his mouth again, but Miss Connors cut him off. “I want to hear

Sheldon’s voice. She’s got one.”

He closed his mouth and leaned back.

I leaned forward and said simply, “The difference between Leisha and me is that she was a decent person. I’m not.”

Miss Connors was cool when she asked, “So is this your martyr bit? Am I suppose to tell you how great and wonderful you are, how much potential you have? I’ve already said that. If you choose to listen or believe me, then that’s on you. It’s your life at the end of the day. You’re the one who falls asleep at night, but you still haven’t answered my question. How do you think Leisha would’ve reacted?”

“I can’t answer that because I’m not Leisha.”

“You were friends. That’s what everyone says. It’s funny that I never saw the two of you converse in the hallways. I usually notice that, but everyone has told me that you guys were friends with her.”

I leaned back and said coolly, “I considered her a friend, yes. Not best friends, but I liked her.”

“Enough to have a guy she liked call her. Right? Carlos said that you were the one who suggested that he should call her. You were looking out for a friend, weren’t you?”

“What?” I countered. “Does that make me a decent person now?”

“No,” Miss Connors clipped out. “One act of decency just shows that there is decency inside, but it doesn’t make a person decent. No, but that wasn’t your question was it? Your real question is if I think you’re a decent person, right?”

Bryce remarked, seemingly casual, “Why don’t you back off of her?” He looked bored, but everyone in the room knew he wasn’t.

“And you come stepping to the plate,” Miss Connors stated. She waved a finger to each of us, “Is that what you do? You step up and shield Sheldon when you think she can’t handle anymore?”

Bryce leaned forward. “Why don’t you stop trying to classify us as awful people and do some counseling? That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

“I think my question to Sheldon was if she wondered if I wondered if she was a decent person. An ‘awful person’ never came into the conversation.”