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  Eric turned away and snickered along with his best friend, Mario Rossi (7-25-2017).

  Feeling my face flush, I gathered up my books and my backpack as fast as I could and followed the principal out of the room.

  Harris led me through the empty hallways, his shoes making loud clacks against the terrazzo floors. I practically walked on tiptoe.

  We reached his offices and passed through the doors into a large open space. All the school secretaries working there looked up in unison as we arrived. Knowing I’d never be called to the principal’s office if I wasn’t in trouble, I felt my cheeks sear with heat. “This way, Madelyn,” said Principal Harris, waving me forward through the maze of desks to his inner office at the back. The door was closed and all the blinds on the glass windows facing out were drawn. He opened the door and again waved me along inside.

  Seated in the chairs in front of his large metal desk were two men about the same age as my mom: one short and heavy with a face like a bulldog; the other tall and broad-shouldered with a handsome face you could’ve seen in Hollywood. They were both dressed formally in suits and ties, and they each turned to look at me, their gazes steely and suspicious. I tugged at the zipper on my hoodie, jumping as the door closed behind me.

  Principal Harris moved to his desk and took his seat, then pointed to a chair to his left. “Sit,” he said. It wasn’t a request.

  I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry. I moved to the chair and shrugged out of my backpack, holding it in front of me like a shield before I sat down. As I took the chair I noticed a large Word of the Day calendar on Principal Harris’s desk next to me. Today’s word was DONNYBROOK—A PUBLIC ARGUMENT.

  “Madelyn,” Harris said, and I jerked, my attention back to him. “This is Special Agent Faraday of the FBI and his partner, Agent Wallace.” At the mention of their names, the two men reached into their blazer pockets and pulled out their respective badges, which they held aloft. The shiny shields reminded me of my dad’s badge. Ma still kept it in her dresser drawer.

  “They’re here to discuss a most grievous and pressing situation, Madelyn,” Principal Harris said. “Please give them your full attention while they recount the details.”

  The tall, broad-shouldered guy, Agent Faraday (10-2-2052), subtly rolled his eyes when Principal Harris wasn’t looking. Apparently, kids weren’t the only ones who found it hard to like our principal.

  “Madelyn,” Agent Faraday started.

  I hugged my backpack, feeling my heart pound against my rib cage. This was about Ma. Something had happened to her or she was in trouble.

  “Is it Madelyn?” Faraday asked. “Or Maddie?”

  “Maddie,” I told him, hating that my voice cracked. I was so nervous about Ma that I didn’t know if I could handle what might come next.

  Agent Faraday smiled, but it held no warmth. “I thought so,” he said. “We have something very important we want to ask you, Maddie.”

  My brow furrowed. What could he want to ask me about Ma? “Uh…okay.”

  Agent Faraday nudged Agent Wallace (8-7-2051), and he took out a five-by-seven photograph of a kid dressed in a baseball uniform. “Have you seen this young man recently?” Wallace asked.

  The appearance of the photo threw me. This didn’t seem to be about Ma at all, but what could the photo of a kid in a baseball outfit possibly have to do with me? I leaned forward to look, and at first all my attention was focused on the kid’s numbers, which were hard to read given the cap. I finally made them out, though: 10-29-2014. Yesterday. And then I looked again at the kid’s face because that date was familiar, and I realized this was Tevon Tibbolt. I could feel the blood drain from my face, and I could also see that the agents had noticed my reaction. I’d watched enough TV to know that the FBI doesn’t come around asking questions about dead kids unless they believe you had something to do with it.

  I tried to think about what I should say to them. I didn’t know if it was better to tell them about the reading with Mrs. Tibbolt or play dumb. I decided to aim for something in the middle. “I haven’t seen him,” I said, which was the truth. I’d never met Tevon before.

  “He went missing yesterday on his way home from school, around three P.M. Are you sure you haven’t seen him, Maddie?” Agent Faraday pressed.

  I looked right at Faraday. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  He and Wallace leaned back in their chairs and exchanged a look. I didn’t like it—they thought I was lying. Wallace shifted in close to me again, still holding the picture at eye level. “See, the thing is, Maddie, this boy is missing. And his mother seems to think you might know where he is.”

  My brow furrowed. What? Oh God, I thought. Tevon was missing and these guys didn’t know he was dead. Worse yet, the way they were looking at me clearly suggested they thought I might’ve had something to do with it. I felt on the verge of panic, so I stuck to the truth—or a version of it. I shook my head again and said, “I don’t know the kid.” This time I even managed to raise my voice a little.

  “Then why would his mother say you know him?” Agent Wallace asked casually, as if he was simply asking for a little clarification. “Why would she say that you might know where he is?”

  I had no idea what Mrs. Tibbolt had said to the feds, and I felt like a rat caught in a maze with no way out. I tried to hold Wallace’s gaze. I failed. “I don’t know why she’d say something like that. I didn’t know him.”

  Faraday sat up. Something I’d said alerted him. “You didn’t know him?” he repeated. “Why use the past tense, Maddie?”

  I gulped. I’d just said something really stupid. In the background, I heard the bell ring to signal the end of sixth period.

  “Is there something you’ve done that you’re feeling bad about, Maddie?” Faraday asked gently. “We’re here to help you, you know. But we can’t help you if you won’t talk to us.”

  I didn’t trust him for a second. I shook my head again, staring hard at the floor. I was determined not to say another word. Anything I said was bound to get twisted around and be used against me.

  Agent Wallace lifted the photo toward me again. “He’s only a kid, Maddie. If he’s hurt or needs help, you have to tell us.”

  I glanced again at the photo and quickly away. Tevon’s numbers kept floating there above his cap. 10-29-2014. The day before. Faraday said he’d disappeared around three P.M., and I knew I had to think about my alibi. I’d gone to school, then home to find Ma drunk on the couch, so I’d headed to Stubby’s and hung out with him until around dinner. Then I’d gone home again, gotten Ma to bed, and studied for a chem test. I went to bed around eleven, and I knew that Stubby could vouch for my time after school at least. Guiltily, I realized I hadn’t thought about Tevon since putting his name in my notebook.

  Taking a deep breath, I worked up some courage. If I didn’t explain myself, then this thing could get way out of control really quick.

  “Listen,” I began, trying to choose my words carefully. “Mrs. Tibbolt came to see me, okay? I didn’t go to her house; she came to mine.”

  Wallace nodded like he totally understood. “She told us you claim to be some sort of psychic.”

  I took another deep breath and tried to calm myself. They were twisting everything, and they didn’t understand. “I’m not a psychic,” I said. “I just see dates.”

  Faraday cocked an eyebrow. “Dates? What kind of dates?”

  “Deathdates.”

  Next to me I heard Mr. Harris suck in a breath while Wallace and Faraday exchanged another look. I decided to push on with my explanation. “Since I was little I’ve been able to see the exact date when somebody’s going to die. I don’t know why I can see it, but I can. So when my mom lost her job and we needed some extra money, we started charging people to have me tell them their deathdate.”

  Wallace made a noise that sounded like a stifled laugh. Faraday cut him a look, and Wallace regained his composure quick. “So you told Mrs. Tibbolt the date you think she’s going to d
ie?” he asked.

  “No. She came to me about her daughter, who has cancer. Mrs. Tibbolt wanted me to tell her if it was okay to go ahead with the drug trial.”

  “I thought you weren’t psychic?” Faraday said.

  I sighed. This was so frustrating. “I’m not. I told her that her daughter was going to live for, like, another eighty years, so Mrs. Tibbolt knew that she should go ahead and put her daughter in the drug trial.”

  “How did Tevon figure into this?” Faraday asked.

  “I saw his picture.”

  “You saw his picture?” Wallace repeated.

  I nodded. “I don’t need to see someone in person to see a deathdate. I can read them off photos just as good.”

  “So you saw his photo, and then what?” Faraday asked.

  “When I saw Tevon’s date I asked Mrs. Tibbolt if he was sick, too, and she said no. So then I told her that his deathdate was this week, and she didn’t believe me. She called me a fraud and left.” And then I thought about the phone call at the diner and decided I might as well tell them all of it. “Later on that same night, I called her to try and convince her that I’m not a fake, but she got really mad at me, so I hung up and left her alone.”

  “She tells it a little differently, Maddie,” Wallace said after a slight pause. “She says you threatened her son. She claims you told her that, if she didn’t listen to you, something bad was going to happen to Tevon.”

  I looked at the photo still in Wallace’s hands. “Something bad has happened to him,” I whispered.

  Principal Harris sucked in another breath, and the tension in the room went up another notch. “Where is he, Maddie?” Faraday asked me softly. “Tell us what you did to him and where he is.”

  My eyes widened. He didn’t believe me, and he still thought I did something to Tevon. I knew then that I wasn’t going to talk my way out of this, but I also knew who could help me. “I think I should call my uncle,” I said, as the warning bell for seventh period sounded.

  “Your uncle?” Wallace asked.

  I nodded, feeling a little better for thinking of calling Donny. “He’s a lawyer, and I think he’d want me to call him right now.”

  Principal Harris cleared his throat, held up his hand. “Agents Faraday and Wallace, I’m afraid I’m rather uncomfortable with this interview taking place in my office. If you want to question Madelyn further, then I’ll need to contact Mrs. Fynn and allow Maddie to call her uncle, as she has a right to have her attorney present. Otherwise, gentlemen, that will be all.”

  Faraday stood, but Wallace ignored him. He leaned forward, his gaze intent on me. “Are you sure you want to get attorneys involved here, Maddie? I mean, if you tell us where Tevon is right now, we may be able to cut you a deal. But if you lawyer up on us, it’s gonna be worse for you down the road. Let us help you, Maddie. Tell us where Tevon is, and stop torturing his parents, for God’s sake.”

  I hugged my backpack even tighter as the agents looked expectantly at me.

  I kept thinking of the stories Donny told me about his clients and how dumb a lot of them were to talk to the police first before they called him. “I don’t think I should say anything more to you without my uncle,” I said. Faraday nudged Wallace, and the two got up and moved to the door, but after opening it, Agent Faraday turned back to look at me. “We’ll be in touch, Maddie. Soon. You can count on it.”

  His promise left me cold to the bone.

  After being released from Principal Harris’s office, I didn’t go to my seventh period ceramics class. Instead, I headed straight to the girls’ restroom and hid in a stall. While I waited on the final bell I called my uncle, but it went straight to voice mail. I left him a message, but I didn’t hear from him before the bell. After it rang, I stayed put until most of the students had cleared out of the building, and then I hurried through the nearly empty halls to my locker. After gathering up my books, I made my way to the back entrance next to the pool. My bike was locked up in the bike rack, but there were three smashed eggs on the seat. A smudged piece of paper had the words: Three little chickies died here, 10-30-2014.

  I recognized Eric Anderson’s handwriting. Crumpling up the paper I looked around for something to wipe off the seat. “Hey!” I heard while I searched the ground.

  Glancing up I saw Stubby walking toward me, carrying a wad of paper towels and his skateboard. “It was Eric and Mario,” he said, handing me the towels.

  My hands were shaking while I mopped up the mess. “Thanks, Stubs.”

  “What the heck did Harris call you to his office for?”

  I wanted to tell Stubby all about the encounter in the principal’s office, but even more I wanted to get home to tell Ma and maybe have her call Uncle Donny. It wasn’t unusual for Donny to wait to call me back, but Ma’s calls he always returned.

  I didn’t know how Ma was gonna react, and that worried me. But then I had another thought. I looked up at Stubs and said, “You remember hanging out with me yesterday, right?”

  Stubby’s brow furrowed. “Yesterday?”

  “Yeah. We hung out and studied for the chem test, remember?”

  He nodded. “I remember.”

  I tossed the paper towels in the trash and unlocked my bike. “If anybody comes to your house and asks about it, you’ll vouch for me, right?”

  Stubby cocked his head. “Mads, what’s going on?”

  I hopped onto the bike and shoved off. “I’ll call you later; just remember what I said!”

  I got home fast, but not fast enough. There was a black sedan parked in front of our house—and I didn’t think it was a client’s.

  I left my bike by the garage, then crept to the back door, which was ajar, but the storm door was shut. Putting my ear to the thin pane of glass, I heard voices—Ma’s and someone else’s. I recognized Faraday’s deep baritone right away.

  “It’s up to you, Mrs. Fynn. If you’d like to have your brother-in-law present while we question your daughter, that’s your right as her guardian. But he’s going to tell you not to talk to us, and if something has happened to Tevon Tibbolt, and your daughter knew about it or played a role in it, then I’m afraid it could go bad for her pretty fast.”

  “Maddie had nothing to do with that boy’s disappearance!” Ma snapped.

  I strained to hear her, listening for the telltale signs that she’d hit the bottle too hard today, but her speech was only a little thick. Maybe they wouldn’t notice.

  “But you admit that she threatened the boy’s mother,” Faraday said.

  “Of course she didn’t! Maddie wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Can you account for her whereabouts yesterday?” another voice asked. Wallace’s, I thought.

  “She was right here with me.”

  I shut my eyes and swore under my breath.

  “The whole day?” Faraday asked.

  “Well, of course not the whole day! She came straight home from school and we were right here until after dinner watching TV. Then she did her homework and went to bed a little after ten.” I realized that Ma was recounting what I did most days, but not yesterday. I knew that her memory was often fuzzy, so I didn’t think she was trying to outright lie to the agents.

  “What time did she arrive home from school?” Wallace continued.

  “The usual time,” Ma said. “Two forty-five, I think.”

  There was a pause, then Faraday said, “The usual time? It’s three-ten and she’s not home yet.”

  “That clock is ten minutes fast,” Ma said quickly. I knew they were both referring to the antique wooden clock above the mantel. It was Dad’s clock. He bought it for Ma on their first anniversary, and he used to set it ten minutes ahead so he’d always be early for his shift. We’d never corrected the time.

  “Even accounting for the difference,” Faraday continued, “she’s still fifteen minutes late.”

  I took a deep, steadying breath and opened the storm door. It squeaked loudly. “Hey, Ma! I’m home!” I decided to play
it like I had no idea what was happening in the living room.

  “Maddie?” Ma called back nervously. “Where’ve you been, honey? You’re late.”

  “Sorry,” I said, dropping my backpack on the kitchen table so it’d make some noise. “Someone smeared something slimy on my bike seat, and I had a hard time getting it off.”

  I then walked into the living room and pretended to come up short. “Oh,” I said. “You guys are here.”

  Faraday cocked an eyebrow. I was pretty sure he could tell a faker a mile away. “You have a bike, Maddie?” he asked in that same casual tone that I didn’t trust for a second.

  I nodded. “It’s in the garage.”

  Faraday then looked to Wallace. “How many miles between here and Parkwick?”

  “Four or five,” Wallace said.

  “How long would that take on a bike?”

  “Ten minutes, maybe.”

  Faraday turned back to Ma. “You’re sure your daughter was here with you yesterday between the hours of three and six P.M.?”

  Ma looked at me and nodded firmly. “I’m positive. Remember, honey? We watched that show…What was it?”

  And there it was. I either had to agree with Ma, who looked so earnest in her effort to create an alibi for me, or correct her and make the agents suspect her for a liar. I decided to try and protect us both. “Uh, Ma, I think you’re thinking of Tuesday. I was at Stubby’s yesterday studying for that chem test. Remember?”

  Ma’s brow furrowed, and all that confidence that she’d mustered up in front of the agents fell away, and she looked lost. Casting her gaze down to her lap she said, “Oh. I thought that was yesterday.” Then she reached for the big plastic glass on the table filled with clear liquid that I knew wasn’t water.

  “Who’s Stubby?” Faraday asked.

  “Arnold Schroder. He’s my best friend. He can vouch for me.”

  Faraday made a note in his notebook and asked for Stubby’s address. As he was jotting that down, Wallace said, “Do you think your friend Arnold might know the whereabouts of Tevon Tibbolt?”

  He’d asked that so casually, like he was asking if I knew where to get the best cheeseburger in town. I sighed and looked at Ma, who was back to frowning at the agents. “My daughter and her best friend had nothing to do with that boy’s disappearance. If you want to keep pressing the issue, then I will insist on calling my brother-in-law.”