That girl could win an Oscar, Sawyer thought bitterly.

“I’m just so scared. I don’t know what I ever did to her.”

Sawyer gaped. “What I did to her? Principal Chappie—”

Principal Chappie helped Maggie up and cupped his chin with his hand. “You’d better come down to my office, Sawyer. Do either of you need to see the nurse?”

Maggie made a show of checking her elbows, twisting her wrists as though looking for breaks. “I think I’m okay, sir. I’d just like to get to class. I have a presentation due for English.”

“Of course, Maggie. Go on ahead.” Principal Chappie put his hand on Sawyer’s elbow. “Sawyer?”

Anger radiated from Sawyer in waves as Maggie slipped away, head held high.

Sawyer watched her leave.

“Come on,” Principal Chappie said.

“Fine,” Sawyer relented, trying to loosen the tight set of her jaw. “Let me just grab my backpack.” She bent down to gather her pack, then snatched Maggie’s discarded note from under the locker, jamming it down in her pocket. “Okay.”

Sawyer sat in Principal Chappie’s office, chewing her bottom lip as he hung up the phone. “You father should be here in just a few minutes. I already told him what we talked about.”

“I’m suspended,” Sawyer said miserably.

“Effective immediately. But don’t think this as some kind of vacation. You will come in tomorrow morning before the first bell and report to detention while the board decides whether your punishment is sufficient.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Sawyer said, her voice a low, nearly inaudible rumble.

“If you choose not to report to detention tomorrow, you will immediately be expelled.”

“Expelled?” she gaped.

“This is very serious, Ms. Dodd. We don’t take bullying lightly at Hawthorne High. Do you understand?”

She nodded, her entire focus going to the note in her pocket. Its contents radiated through her, and she played through any scenario that would allow her a few private moments to read it.

“Can I use the restroom?”

Principal Chappie pressed his lips into a stern, straight line. “Is it an emergency?”

Sawyer pumped her head, pressing her fingertips to her lower abdomen. “Cramps.”

He seemed to consider a moment before picking up his phone once again. “Ellen, can you come here and take Ms. Dodd to the ladies room?”

“I can go to the bathroom alone, Principal Chappie.”

Ellen, a freshman who barely cleared Sawyer’s chin, was standing in Principal Chappie’s doorway a beat after he hung up the receiver. “I can take you right now.” Ellen’s cracked lips broke into a friendly smile, showing off a mouthful of silvery braces.

“Thanks,” Sawyer muttered, walking behind the tiny blond.

“So,” Ellen started when they had reached the relative sanctity of the deserted hallway. “Is it true you attacked Maggie Gaines?”

“No,” Sawyer said without looking at the girl.

Ellen frowned, and Sawyer saw the girl’s fingers go to the hem of her T-shirt, rolling the fabric nervously.

“I’m sorry,” Sawyer said, stopping to face Ellen. “I’m just in a really bad mood. It’s nothing against you.”

Ellen nodded, her cotton candy fluff of blond hair swirling around her freckled cheeks. “That’s okay. I’m sorry about the suspension.”

“You already know?”

Ellen’s freckles disappeared under a wash of pink. “I kind of figured. It’s a zero-tolerance policy here.”

“Anyway”—Sawyer pointed to the girl’s room door—“I’m just going to—”

“Oh, right.” Ellen nodded, smiled, and leaned against the adjacent wall. “I’ll just wait for you here.”

Sawyer jammed her hands in her pockets, her fingertips brushing the top of the note. Her stomach dropped, but she forced a small smile. “I promise not to make a run for it.”

Sawyer slipped into the first stall and locked the door behind her, digging the note from her pocket. She smoothed it against her thigh and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Every beat of her heart seemed to squeeze the last of the breath out of her lungs as she read.

Maggie—

You’re a slut! Don’t think Kevin didn’t tell me about you. As a matter of fact, he said you were the worst blow ever…although ALL the other guys on the football team might have a different view. We used to laugh about what a skanky bitch you were, pretending to be a sweet, innocent virgin. You aren’t fooling anyone; the entire school knows what a whore you are, what a ho…

It wasn’t the words on the note that caused Sawyer’s distress; it wasn’t even the fact that the note appeared on the same mint-green paper as hers had—it was the handwriting. It was identical to hers.

Sawyer bit down hard on her lower lip as she read the last line—signed,

Sawyer Dodd, an admirer.

Her breath came out in painful gasps now, and Sawyer flopped forward, clutching the note in one hand as she pressed her head between her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed her breathing to slow down, her heart to slow down, when there was a frantic beating on the girl’s room door, followed by a crack of hallway light as the door opened.

“Sawyer? Is everything okay?”

Sawyer pushed herself up and used the heel of her hand to brush away the tears that had inexplicably started to fall. “Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat, “I’m good.” She kick-flushed the toilet for good measure and beelined to the bank of sinks, keeping her head bent so Ellen couldn’t see her flushed cheeks. She splashed her face with cold water and Ellen’s eyebrows went up, her lips curling into a sympathetic coo.

“Are you worried about what your parents are going to say?”

“Um, yeah, a little bit,” Sawyer said, meeting Ellen at the door. “But time to face the music, I guess, huh?”

Ellen fell into step next to Sawyer. “You know, if you need anything, you can call me. I know we don’t really know each other, but I can get your schoolwork for you or something.”

“That’s okay,” Sawyer said, “you don’t even know my classes.”

“Oh, no worries. I can pull your schedule from the office. It’s no big deal.”

Sawyer felt a small bit of heat clawing at the back of her neck, but she wasn’t sure why. “No, that’s all right. I really appreciate it though, thanks.”

Andrew Dodd didn’t say anything to Sawyer as they left Principal Chappie’s office and walked to the visitor’s lot.

“Dad,” Sawyer tried once they got to the car.

Andrew held up a silencing hand as he sunk his key into the lock and slid into the front seat of the car. Sawyer flopped into the passenger seat next to him, dumping her backpack on the floor.

“Dad, I didn’t do anything. Maggie threw herself on me! And I didn’t even write that note.” She paused, and when Andrew didn’t respond, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and slunk down in her seat, staring out the front windshield. When her father made a left turn away from the highway toward Blackwood Hills Estates, she frowned. “Where are we going?”

“You’re going to see Dr. Johnson.”

Sawyer straightened up, anger and betrayal tearing through her. “What? Dad, I told you I had nothing to do with this. Maggie is a freak—and someone sent her a note and they said it was from me but it wasn’t.”

Andrew raked a hand through his thinning hair then rubbed his eyes. “Sawyer, Tara’s on bed rest. She’s gone to her mother’s house.”

Sawyer felt her eyebrows rise. “What? Why?”

Her father turned to look her full in the face now. His eyes were narrowed and cold, and his cheeks were flushed a hot red. “Really, Sawyer? Really?”

“Dad, I have no idea what—”

“Save it. God, Sawyer, I just don’t know what to do with you anymore. I mean, I know you lost your boyfriend and my marriage and this baby have been hard on you but really, grow up. What you did—” He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and he continued looking straight out the front windshield. “You know what? You’re about to be late for your appointment. I’ll be right out here in an hour, and I expect you to be here.”

Sawyer opened her mouth to say something, but the tension was oppressive. Instead, she swallowed back tears and slipped out of the car, making a beeline for Dr. Johnson’s empty waiting room.

“Sawyer Dodd,” she said to the woman at the front desk. “I guess I have an appointment.”

The dark-haired woman smiled serenely. Without checking her computer or datebook, she gestured toward Dr. Johnson’s office. “You can go right in.”

Sawyer hiked up her shoulder bag, suddenly feeling very small and very unprotected as she walked into Dr. Johnson’s posh office. She had been there a handful of times before—just after Tara and her father married, and then again after Kevin’s death.

“Ah, Sawyer, so nice to see you again.” Dr. Johnson was dressed in his signature “don’t think of me as a doctor, think of me as a buddy!” khakis, with a light-colored button down that showed off his trim physique. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off well-toned forearms tufted with blond hair. He was a good-looking man, but Sawyer never trusted anyone who steepled their fingers and “mmhmm, mmhmmed” as much as he did.

“Have a seat.”

She did, tentatively, dropping her purse on the floor. “Why am I here?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew,” she said, feeling the hot fist of anger forming in the pit of her stomach. “Some chick at school jumped me and my father picked me up and dumped me here. It wasn’t even my fault.”

Dr. Johnson pressed his lips together. “So you don’t want to talk about the nursery.”