Page 36

PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA

Michael wakes up abruptly to the pinging of his phone, jolting upright. The sharp morning sun cuts through the window. He’s had a restless sleep, filled with dreams he can’t remember. It’s probably for the best because he’s also filled with dread, so they can’t have been good ones. The phone pings and pings again, which is always ominous this early in the morning.

Please don’t be O’Leary, he prays.

He reaches for the device and sees three email notices from Taylor’s school. The subject lines wake him up: Alert! Fire on Campus; Alert! Classes Canceled; Alert! Information for Students and Parents.

The headmaster’s quarters—the grand residence on the hill of the Academy—caught fire well after midnight. But that’s not what sends his heart into free fall. It’s that Headmaster Pendleton is believed to have succumbed to the blaze.

It’s a coincidence, an awful coincidence, Michael tells himself. This isn’t an episode of Dateline, it’s real life. And in real life, awful coincidences and tragedies happen. It has nothing to do with what happened to Anthony O’Leary. Nothing to do with what Michael and the other parents did to protect their children.

Michael swings his legs out of the bed, heads to check on Taylor. Her bedroom door is shut, but there’s noise coming from inside. He puts his ear near to the door. He thinks he hears crying.

“Taylor,” he says to the closed door. “Everything okay?”

She says something he can’t make out, so he slowly turns the knob and eases the door open.

She’s in bed and is sobbing.

“Taylor, honey, what’s the matter?”

She sits up, pushes her back against the headboard. Tears stream down her face, her breath jittering.

“What is it, sweetie?” She’s probably heard about the fire, about Pendleton. Although that’s probably upsetting, he thinks it’s something more.

“It’s Dylan,” she says.

This takes him aback. Dylan, one of the kids from her friend group. The attorney general’s son. Then his heart smashes to the floor: one of the kids in the video.

“What about him?”

“He, like, overdosed.”

Michael’s head is spinning. Overdosed? He’s fourteen years old. Taylor and her friends aren’t into drugs.

“Overdosed?”

Taylor gasps for air as she tries to talk. “Lana’s parents are friends with Dylan’s parents. She said they found him unconscious last night. They say he overdosed on something.”

“Is he going to be okay?” The sad truth is that Michael isn’t so much worried about Dylan but instead that his daughter’s close friend is taking drugs. That maybe all the kids are. That maybe Taylor has been too. That maybe Michael’s been an oblivious parent. But then a more terrifying thought slams into him: What if this wasn’t an accidental overdose?

“Lana doesn’t know.” Taylor starts crying again.

“I’m so sorry.” Michael sits on the bed and opens his arm for a hug.

“Do you think he’s going to be okay?” she asks, burying her head in his chest.

Michael doesn’t answer. All he can think about is the video. Dylan unzipping his pants and urinating on the immobilized Anthony O’Leary.