Page 8

It was Thursday when her homeroom teacher handed her a note from the new wellness counselor, Ms. George.

Jodi, I’d love to meet with you during your free period this week. Come by any time.

Jodi stared down at the fluttery letters, her pulse jumping. There was only one thing a counselor would be interested in talking about.

She took her time getting there. Oliver was behind the desk in the office, glaring into space as someone talked his ear off on the office phone. Jodi tapped the counter to get his attention and pointed to the hallway where the guidance offices were.

Oliver’s lips twitched as she started down the hall. “So, you want an interview with one of the so-called Thrashers, is that right, sir?”

Jodi stopped, turning on her heel to face him.

“Oh, do I know them? Sure, I do.” Oliver grinned, and she scowled back. “They’re very popular. Unfortunately, we have a new policy about the media due to recent events. I’m sure you understand.”

He shooed her like a fly while he listened to the reporter argue his case. Jodi continued down the hall, looking at nameplates until she found Roseanne George . The door was closed, and voices were coming from inside. Jodi sat down in a chair by the wall and scrolled her phone until the handle turned.

“—sure it’s all going to turn out okay. I’m glad you could stop by.”

Jodi looked up and froze when she met Hannah Mills’s blue eyes. Hannah seemed surprised to see her, but then quickly recovered. “Hi,” she said, and then Jodi was engulfed in a loose hug. She didn’t breathe, in case a small movement could break Hannah’s fragile arms. Just as quickly as it happened, Hannah was darting down the hall, head down. Jodi stared after her, speechless. She had never hugged Hannah Mills in her life.

“Hi, are you waiting for me?”

Jodi jumped and turned to the woman who must be Ms. George. She was in her thirties with brown curly hair and large, thick-framed glasses.

She found her voice. “Yes. Jodi Dillon.”

“Oh, Jodi!” Ms. George’s pleased smile brightened as she glanced down the hall where the front door was just closing after a girl with orange sneakers. “Hannah was just talking about you.”

“Excuse me?” Her heart pounded.

“She says you’re her only friend at school so far.” Ms. George winked. “That’s very kind of you to keep an eye on her.”

Jodi simply nodded and waited for Ms. George to step aside before she entered.

“I’m so glad you decided to stop by,” she said.

“I wasn’t aware it was optional.” Jodi’s eyes bugged out when she saw the state of the counselor’s office. Boxes in corners, filing cabinets exploding with paperwork.

“Oh, well, I sent notes to each of you, but you’re the only one who’s come by so far.”

“Each of who?”

“Your friends. The Thr—oh, I suppose you don’t like being lumped together like that. Interesting that you’re named after one person.”

“It wasn’t really our choice. The rest of the school decided on it.”

“Interesting!” Her brown eyes lit up like it was, in fact, interesting. “And how long have they been calling the group of you by that name?”

She gathered some loose pages on her desk, stuffed them into an open folder, and closed it. Jodi saw Mills, Hannah ’28 on the side.

“Was there a reason you called me in?” Jodi said, trying to reroute the conversation. Her stomach twisted as she wondered why Hannah had been talking about her at all.

“I wanted to check in. It’s a lot to handle—the media, your friend’s arrest. Tell me how that’s going.”

Jodi felt Ms. George’s eyes digging under her skin. In all her time at New Helvetia High, she’d never had a counselor check on her like this, and she wondered what the catch was. “It’s been hard,” Jodi said carefully. “Everyone has kind of turned on us.”

Ms. George began what she clearly thought was a comforting speech. Jodi’s eyes glazed over and came to rest just beyond her. On the floor in the corner sat a box, taped shut. Emily Mills was written on the side.

“What’s that?”

Ms. George stopped mid-sentence and turned her head. “Emily’s files. The detectives are coming by today to pick them up.”

A cold chill crept down her spine. “And you’re going to share my file with the police, too, I guess?” Jodi said, voice harsh.

Ms. George’s eyebrows drew together in alarm. “Whoa, whoa. Not at all. Jodi, anything you say in this office is kept confidential, except if you are intending to hurt yourself or others.”

Jodi’s breath quickened. “So you just invite Emily Mills’s accused murderers into your office for a chat on the day the police are swinging by?”

Ms. George leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the desk and lowering her voice. “Jodi, unless I missed something, no one is accusing anyone of murder. I wasn’t aware that you were implicated in any way. I only thought your friend Zack was charged.”

Jodi blinked at her, willing her heart to rest.

She tilted her head. “Does it feel like you’re being accused of murder? Is someone at school making you feel that way?”

Jodi pressed her thumb into her palm. Maybe she was overreacting. But maybe Ms. George didn’t know a fucking thing about this school and Emily Mills. Her eyes glanced at the box in the corner—the box that may contain hard evidence against Zack. Against all of them.

She needed to read that file before it left this office.

Mustering everything Paige had ever taught her about getting out of speeding tickets, Jodi forced her face to crumple and brought a hand to cover her eyes.

“Oh, Jodi…”

She heard Ms. George moving across the office to locate a Kleenex box. Once her back was turned, Jodi drew her phone out of her pocket and, with nimble fingers, opened a new text thread to a contact she hadn’t used in years.

could u get george out of her office? i need 5 min

She hit send, and just before Ms. George turned back around, she added:

this is jodi

“Here, sweetheart.” A Kleenex appeared under her chin, and Jodi slipped her phone between her thigh and the seat.

“It just sucks,” she said, staring down at her hands. “The news says we bullied her to death, and the school believes it, too.”

“I heard that you were friends with Emily. Was there bullying involved?”

Jodi looked up. Ms. George’s head was tilted sympathetically.

“We didn’t bully her,” she said truthfully. “We didn’t really like having her around all the time, but we didn’t go as far as telling her to kill herself.”

Ms. George nodded encouragingly. Jodi was surprised to feel… almost better, saying it out loud. Like a balloon, filled so close to popping, had finally released a hiss of air. She wondered how easy it would be to just open her mouth and let it all fall out—all of her frustrations that her friends didn’t prioritize her, all of her regrets about Emily, all of her love for Zack. But she sniffed into the Kleenex instead and refocused on her task.

Jodi didn’t feel her phone vibrate, so she needed to do something about that box herself. She could come back, maybe skip next period. She could text Julian about the box. He would definitely break in if he knew about the file—

There was a knock on the door before it opened. Jodi spun around.

“Ms. George?” Oliver Burns poked his head in. “Sorry! I forgot you had someone.”

Jodi’s heart jumped.

“Yes, I’ll be done in just a bit—”

“Sorry, it’s just that—you have a Kia, right? Tan?”

Ms. George paused, surprised. “Uh, yes.”

“I got a report that there’s broken glass around a tan Kia in the parking lot and I was going to go check it out before calling the cops.”

“Oh my god.” Ms. George jumped up, knocking over a pile. “Um, sorry. Jodi, can you wait here? You’re very important,” she threw over her shoulder as she sped out of the office. Oliver lifted a brow before leaving Jodi alone, closing the door.

Jodi’s heart was pounding as she sprang out of her chair. Her fingers pried at the top of the box, but it was taped down. After a second’s hesitation, she reached for the nearby scissors and slit across the tape in an even line, right under the lip of the top. As long as she could put everything back, no one would suspect it had been opened.

Inside she saw a mass of loose paperwork. Flying through progress reports and end-of-semester grades, Jodi found notes with the previous wellness counselor Mrs. Needlemeyer’s header at the top.

Florence Needlemeyer, Wellness Counselor

January 19, 2024

Emily Mills—Soph

NOTES:

Mrs. Huberman found Emily crying between classes, brought her in. Would not talk about why she was crying. Agreed to see me next Friday for a check-in.

January 19 meant nothing to Jodi. But then again, a lot of this would mean nothing to her. She was tempted to find the notes from the session Needlemeyer mentioned, but maybe it was more important to look for Zack’s name directly.

Her fingers fluttered over the pages, pulling back corners and roving quickly over words. She soon discovered that Emily kept Friday appointments with Needlemeyer going.

Emily has new friends. Zackary Thrasher, Lucy Reed, etc. Was excited to talk about them. Asked her about last week’s fight with dad, she quickly changed the subject.

Jodi resisted the urge to flip backward to find out about Emily’s fight with her father. She needed to find out what the police would soon know. Maureen Mills’s words about April rang between her ears, and she thumbed through until the first Friday in April.

Talked about Paige Montgomery’s spring break plans. I asked if she was joining Paige in Hawaii. Emily said she hadn’t been invited—yet.

Her brows shot upward. Why the fuck would Emily assume Paige was going to invite her to Hawaii? Jodi hadn’t even been invited. It was a family trip that only included Lucy.

At the bottom of the page, Mrs. Needlemeyer scribbled in the corner:

Follow up about Jodi Dillon

Her eyes stuttered over her name. She flipped to the following Friday. No mention of herself. What was Needlemeyer supposed to follow up on?

There was sweat under her arms. She knew she didn’t have enough time. Jodi flipped to the final Friday in April, after spring break.

Conversation focused on schoolwork. No mention of Zack Thrasher today—odd. Jodi Dillon is her best friend. I told her to try reading Jodi’s body language, look for visual cues, see if Jodi feels the same. Said Jodi was the only person who cared about her in the entire world. Wouldn’t elaborate.

Without taking a moment to think about anything, Jodi pulled up the last page of notes in May.

Emily going to prom with the Thrasher group. Paige M. invited her in the limo and Zack said he’d slow dance with her. Jodi wearing a blue-green dress like a mermaid. Very excitable. Julian H. said he’d order a corsage for her to match the girls.

Said she’s “a Thrasher now.” I asked if that was a good thing.

Obsessive. Angry when prodded about this.

Jodi’s brows jumped. None of it was true, except for Jodi’s dress color. This was damning. If the police believed this account, it would look like Jodi and her friends had set Emily up. Her fingers were shaking, and her blood was pounding in her ears as she listened carefully for footsteps.

Jodi ripped the page from the box. She scanned her eyes down it. Was this the only place Mrs. Needlemeyer called Emily obsessive and angry? Was she shooting herself in the foot if the police didn’t see that assessment?

She couldn’t care. She folded the page four times and stuffed it in her back pocket. The box lid slid over the top easily, and Jodi sat back in her chair, pulling out her phone to look casual.

A text from Oliver read: walking back from lot now.

Her eyes locked on the box. What else could she find out in the handful of seconds she had? Emily’s fight with her dad in February? More about prom? Whatever Emily had said about her that needed “following up”? Would there be an explanation of how Jodi had supposedly talked Emily out of killing herself in April?

Her knee bounced. Opening the box again would be time-consuming and tricky. Suddenly, she remembered Hannah in here just ten minutes ago. The hug she gave Jodi on the way out the door.

Hannah Mills’s file was still on the desk. Jodi jumped to her feet. She flipped backward through the file, finding Hannah’s middle school transcript, a request to test out of freshman computer science, and a note about Hannah not finishing her summer reading. Jodi stopped short when she found a photocopied page.

Sacramento Police Department

Incident Report

Date: May 11, 2024

Case No. 4512420

Response to 911 call at 633 35th Street. Caller reported murder, on-site shows suicide. Caller identified as Maureen Mills, mother to deceased Emily Mills, 16.

Why did Hannah Mills’s file include a copy of the police report? Her eyes flew over the typed text, finding a section highlighted in yellow on page two.

Sister to deceased discovered body. Hannah Mills, age 13. Interviewed with father present. Hannah tried knocking on shared bathroom door with no response from Emily. Around 9:35p. Opened door appr. 10 min later to find Emily Mills in bathtub, unconscious. Called for parents immediately.

I examined Emily Mills and found her without a pulse, body warm. I tried lifesaving measures…

Chills crested down her arms. Her mind filled out the scene, building the report around her as she read on. She could see Emily in the bathtub. She could see the paramedics. She felt herself out of her body. Jodi shook her head, coming back to present.

Miscellaneous information: Found in pink formal dress. Dress and body were damp. Did not assess leaking faucets in bathtub at time of inspection. No explanation for the water.

She heard footsteps. She closed up the folder, replaced it carefully on the desk, and stared into space with a bored expression as the door opened.

“I’m so sorry about that, Jodi! It ended up being a false alarm, thank god.”

Ms. George looked winded, and Jodi hoped her father’s Irish coloring wasn’t pulling blood into her face as she returned her smile.

“It’s okay. Um, I actually need to go grab lunch, but this was really nice, Ms. George. Could I maybe come see you again sometime?”

The older woman’s face broke out into a surprised grin. “Of course! I would love to spend more time with you.”

“Thanks. Well, good to meet you.”

Ms. George moved to the side and let her out of the office. Jodi tugged the back of her shirt down over her backside, hoping the outline of the folded session notes wasn’t obvious.

Oliver gave her a cool glance as he picked up a phone call. She nodded at him, and continued to the art building.

Her heart was fluttering in her chest. She tried to make sense of a few things. She supposed the guidance office having a copy of the police report made a kind of sense, seeing as Hannah had found a dead body three months ago.

Dress and body were damp . What did that mean? And was any of what was in Mrs. Needlemeyer’s notes true? Had Paige invited Emily just to humiliate her? That wasn’t like Paige.

Had Julian offered to get her a corsage, knowing Emily wasn’t invited with them? That did sound like Julian.

Had Zack promised to slow dance with Emily? A possibility, but not to torment Emily.

The air-conditioning blasted across her face as she entered the building for her next class. She’d need to ask Paige about it to make sure.

But one question circled in her mind.

Had she just derailed a police investigation?