Page 24 of Retool

“Quietly,” Bobby murmured behind me.

It reminded me that approximately two dozen people were actively trying to eavesdrop without admitting they even knew I was on the bus.

“I didnot,” I repeated in a whisper, “kill anyone.”

“I know,” Charlie said.

“This is totally going in my memoir,” AJ said.

“It’s only when we’re locked in the ultimate struggle that we fully come alive,” Thatcher said.And then he held out his fist to me and said, “I got you, brother.”

“Oh my God,” I said under my breath.

“You need to sit down,” Graeme called from the front of the bus.

Bobby and I took a pair of empty seats in front of the ducklings.

Peace and quiet didn’t last long; Charlie tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Are you here because you’re investigating?”

“No, I’m—wait, what is this?Where are we going?”

“It’s a morning at the farmer’s market,” AJ said.“It was an optional expedition.You were supposed to sign up in advance.”

“Why are you going?”I said.“You live here; you don’t need an expedition to the farmer’s market.”

“Becausewe’reinvestigating!”Charlie announced.

I twisted around in my seat to get a good look at them.They were flushed with excitement and beaming at me.

“Are you insane?”I asked.

“No, we’re totally going to figure out who did it.Like Detective Dragon!”

“In the first place, you are absolutelynotgoing to figure out who did it because you’re going to stop this immediately.In the second place, do you have any idea how dangerous it might be to investigate a murderwhile the murderer is still loose?”

“You do it,” AJ said.“What makes you so special?”

“I don’twantto do it!”

“Dash,” Bobby said.“Volume.”

A few heads had turned.Graeme was glaring at us.

“Listen, Dash,” Thatcher began in the tone of someone about to explain something totally obvious.

I fought the urge—suddenly powerful—to tell him to call me Mr.Dane.

“This is our chance,” Thatcher continued.

“Your chance?”

“To have an adventure!”Charlie said.

“To do something cool to put in a query letter,” AJ said.“Do you know how easy it would be to get an agent if I can say I solved Vivienne Carver’s murder, and that was part of my healing process from my trauma?”

I bit back a comment about a twenty-year-old’s need to write a memoir.

“This is a chance to break the bones of life,” Thatcher said in what he probably assumed was his world-weary voice.“And suck out their marrow.”