“No, I’m okay. Thanks. I just…I don’t eat that often.”

“You should, you know.” He jerked his head up and down, a self-conscious nod.

“You hardly ever eat. Is that…are you, like, anorexic, or something? I…I know someone with that eating disorder and she said she can’t eat because she feels all panicky if she does, like she’s going to fall apart or something.”

“No. I eat when I’m hungry. I’m just not hungry that often.”

“Oh.” He fell silent and returned to cleaning the Party Packs.

“Thanks for noticing, though,” I remarked, kindly.

He glanced back, blushed, and smiled, “Yeah.”

I had taken two steps towards the door when I heard him whisper, underneath his breath, “I notice everything.”

I turned back and asked, clearly, “Why?”

He jumped and whirled to me. “What?” He looked alarmed.

“Why do you notice everything?”

“Because no one notices me.”

“Everyone notices me,” I said flatly.

“I know.” Another flush and his hands jerked.

“I wish no one noticed me.”

His hands stilled and the flush disappeared. “You do?”

“I do. I could breathe a lot easier.”

“I…I feel like that sometimes,” Marcus confessed.

“Why can’t you breathe?”

Call me crazy. Call me out-of-sync or illogical, but for some reason—I was clinging to every word he said. I didn’t have the lash inside to remind Marcus that he was a social defect, but then again—I was always nice to him. I just never understood why or thought about it.

I thought about it now.

“I don’t know.” He glanced towards his hands, which seemed steady and strong now. “Just…there’s a lot of bullies, you know, and girls who are mean. They laugh in your face sometimes and they’re not very nice.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked up, “Why? You’ve always been nice.”

“I’m not nice to everyone.”

“Those people deserve it, though. You’re nice to who deserves it.”

“No.” I shook my head, numb. “I’m not.”

“You’re not nice to fake people, but…you’re nice to people who are real. You like that. I’ve watched you, I’ve seen you be nice to people who are real, who don’t care about being…popular or laughed at.”

That was true, but I was more surprised that he knew that.

“So, you’ve been watching me, huh?” I joked, but I knew I was waiting for Bryce to ring the doorbell.

I was stalling, biding time. That 49% had reared its ugly head.

It took a little bit, but I realized that Marcus never answered my joke. He froze in place, his eyes glued to mine, and he looked like he was about to jerk into action.

“I was joking,” I drawled. “Relax.”

And that was when the doorbell rang.

I think a part of me had sensed his approach, maybe I felt his footsteps on the front porch, or maybe I just knew how long he would’ve let me leave before he pursued.

Even in madness, I still knew Bryce intimately.

Marcus jumped at the sound.

“You should go,” I murmured as I was turning around.

“Uh…”

“There’s a back door, through the garage. You can get out that way. You shouldn’t go this way.”

I walked into the front hallway and I felt Marcus leave behind me. He ceased being a blip on my radar as I saw Bryce’s shadow looming behind the glass door.

My heart started to pound. I heard it and felt it and it sounded ominous.

“Sheldon!” Bryce pounded on the door.

This time, I was the one who jerked. I knew it was coming, the force just rattled me.

“Come on. I see you, you’re right there! Let me in!”

Still nothing. My feet were glued to the floor. I didn’t run, I didn’t flee, but I didn’t approach either.

“Look—I know you’re mad. We can figure it out later. This is about me going pro, right? I’m not leaving tomorrow, okay? Corrigan got let out. I figured—I should be here because he’s going to show up pretty soon. His mom called me. He’s furious.”

It was lies. All lies. And even the slight hitch of emotion in his voice was perfectly placed.

The door was securely locked. I reached up, numb, and coded in the alarm. I called out, huskily, “You killed those girls.”

Bryce froze on the other side. He didn’t say anything for a moment. And then, a choked, “No. What are you talking about?” He was desperate now. “Let me in, Sheldon! We can talk about this.”

“You killed Leisha and you killed Bailey. And…”

He was going to kill me. I knew it in that moment, but I still stood there—frozen and paralyzed.

“I didn’t,” Bryce cried out, hoarse. “I don’t…where is this coming from? I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You knew that Bailey hadn’t died in the school. You knew that before Sheila told us. And you knew that Leisha hadn’t been killed in the park. I knew that, but I never told you that. You were the only one who knew Bailey had talked to me. No one else was watching. It was only you!”

He went utterly, perfectly, absolutely still.

And then, a sigh of surrender left him and instead of hearing his maddening confession, I heard a different take, “I went to the cops yesterday. I knew that stuff because I talked to Officer Patterson. I talked to Sheila. She told me that stuff. And I saw your fourth note. It said on there that they were moved and he was going to move you too.”

“You went down there to frame Corrigan.”

That pissed me off.

“I went…I went to Sheila and I told her about the party last night. I just…I wanted you to be safe and I’m smart enough to know that this should’ve been handled by the cops from the start. That’s why I went down there. I told them about the videos, about the second alarm system, about…I told them everything because this is their job. This isn’t what we do. I just…” He sighed again and leaned his head against the door. I heard his muffled honesty ring forth, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”