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I standoutside Rachel’s locker, my hands shaking. Last night, I spent over an hour composing a letter to Rachel. I wrote several drafts and ended up crumpling most of them up. It took me several tries until the handwriting seemed sufficiently unrecognizable. But then I got paranoid about fingerprints, so I did the whole thing over again while wearing rubber gloves from the lab. I finally settled on the following:

I know all about you and Dr. Conlon. Put the answers to the final exam under the door of Locker 282 or else everyone will find out the truth.

Locker 282 is one of the empty lockers at the end of the hallway. I put a lock on it and figure I can collect the papers late at night when nobody is around. Rachel will probably try to keep an eye on the locker, but she can’t watch it all the time. It’s a perfect plan.

I may be crossing a line by doing this. Believe me, I’ve never cheated before. I’ve considered it once or twice but never ended up going through with it. But it feels like the only way to level the playing field. I mean, Rachel gets an edge through sleeping with Dr. Conlon, and Mason gets an edge because he’s good-looking and charismatic—it’s just not fair.

And yes, I know that’s sort of bullshit.

I look around the hallway before removing the note from my pocket. I take a deep breath and slide the piece of paper under the crack at the bottom of Rachel’s locker. As soon as the white sheet disappears, regret washes over me. I almost wish I could somehow retrieve it. But it’s gone. I did it.

And actually, I don’t feel that bad about it.

I back away from the locker, hurrying down the hallway. I don’t want anyone to see me. I’m heading in the direction of the library when I practically slam into a very pale-looking Mason stumbling out of the men’s room. He collapses against the wall like his legs can no longer support him.

“Mason?”

I bend down next to him. He doesn’t look up at me at first—he just stares at the floor with that glazed look in his eyes. He’s still unshaven and looks like he hasn’t even showered in days. He looks horrible, more like some vagrant from the street than the confident guy I started hooking up with a few months ago.

Shit. I didn’t do this to him, did I?

It seems so unlikely. I tossed those pills in a dumpster ages ago. Yes, I have heard of certain drugs triggering a psychotic break in vulnerable people, but… that can’t be what happened to him, could it?

No. No way. It must be the stress. Or maybe he’s started taking some of the illegal drugs that are being passed around. Yes, that could definitely be it.

“Mason?” I repeat.

Finally, he looks up at me. I gasp at how bloodshot his eyes are.

“What?” he says. His voice cracks slightly when he speaks.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

The question seems almost ridiculous. He is so obviously not okay.

“No, I’m not okay.” Spittle flies out of his mouth as he speaks. “I’m going to be murdered. Just like Frank.”

There’s something very frightening in his eyes, something very unfamiliar. I remember how, at the beginning of the year, he smiled at me across the table in the library, and I got lost in his eyes. I remember the passion with which he had ripped my blouse open and pressed his lips onto mine. He seems like an entirely different person now.

Mason needs help. That’s obvious. I could talk to the dean or maybe tell Patrice. Or even Dr. Conlon, who is already concerned. But I’m scared. What if they find out that someone has been drugging him? How long will it take Mason to put it together after he remembers all those cups of coffee I brought him? He’s a smart guy, after all. And I was so careless.

And really, isn’t this what I always wanted? To get Mason out of the picture? He’s been my greatest competition in the class, and now, he’s no longer a threat. And who’s to say it’s because of the dopamine pills? It probably isn’t. I’m sure it’s just that the stress has finally gotten to him. But if I ’fessed up what had really happened, I’m sure I’d get blamed. And maybe kicked out of medical school.

No, nobody can find out about this.

After all, what’s the worst that can happen?