Page 4 of Dead Girls Can't Tell Secrets

“Seems fun so far. I only joined a couple weeks ago. I go to Foothill, but they don’t have an outdoor club.” He leans back in his chair, arms crossed.

That explains why he doesn’t know about Piper or me. “Do you want to be a wilderness guide or something? You’d have to be pretty motivated to drive over here after school.”

Tyler shrugs. “I like this kind of stuff. Being outdoors. I used to fish and camp and all that with my dad, but”—his gaze drops to his black boots—“he passed away last year.”

A giant knot forms at the base of my throat.He passed away.Even though Piper’s still alive, I hear my mom’s sobs every morning when she wakes up and remembers this isn’t a dream. I heard my parents’ hushed conversation two nights ago after they spoke to Dr. Porter. He no longer believes Piper will recover. He recommended removing her from life support. Piper’s body is hanging on, but there’s a good chance that whatever makes herheris already gone.

My throat feels swollen, and my nose threatens to drip. I need to be excused. I start to apologize as the door squeaks open.

Grant walks in, and my heart buoys. “I’m really sorry about your dad,” I say to Tyler. “And about the wilderness guide thing. I have trouble keeping my mouth shut. It’s, like, a real problem.”

A glimmer of a grin slides over his lips. “Don’t worry about it.”

I motion for Grant to take the empty seat on my left, and when he does, I cup my hand and whisper into his ear, “Mr. Davis didn’t write the note. Someone else did.”

Grant’s head draws back. “Like a prank?”

“I don’t know, but it’s sketchy, right?”

“I guess, if you think whoever wrote the note was up at the Point when it happened.”

“Yeah,” I say, taking in the faces around us again.

Mr. Davis sits down in the circle, cutting off further discussion.

“I guess they let just anyone into this club,” Jacey stage-whispers to Humsalot while looking straight at me. She crosses her legs and folds her hands, polished red fingernails on display. Jacey, a.k.a. Piper’s best friend since kindergarten, has come a long way since her days of oversize science camp T-shirts paired with track pants. In the last couple of years, she’s been styling her drab brown locks and dressing halfway normal. She actually looks good today in her distressed jeans and form-fitting tank top. I used to spend so much time planted in front of my vanity mirror, trying to teach Piper and Jacey how to do their hair and makeup. I even taught Jacey how to put on that eyeliner she managed to apply flawlessly today.

I don’t foresee those lessons continuing.

“Careful,” Jacey continues. “Keep your eyes on anything you don’t want stolen.”

Beside me, Grant squirms. My fists twitch, but Mr. Davis, clueless about the social dynamics of the room, just frowns. I’m about to say something I’ll undoubtedly regret when the door flies open. A gust of wind riffles the posters lining the walls, and in stumbles Noah Crawford, late as usual.

He meets my gaze, and surprise lights his eyes.

“Sorry, Mr. Davis,” he calls out like he’s not sorry at all. He ambles over, backpack weighed down by what he calls “supplemental reading.” “I had to talk to a guy about a thing, andthenI had this momentary bout of amnesia. Couldn’t find the place. There was room twenty-three and twenty-four, but room—”

“Have a seat, Mr. Crawford,” Mr. Davis interrupts, shaking his head. “We were about to get started. But make sure you bring a compass this weekend.”

Noah salutes him, taking the seat beside Jacey. She leans to whisper something in his ear, clearly continuing her campaign against me.

When Mr. Davis wanders back to his desk, mumbling about forgetting something, Noah grabs his backpack and moves to the empty seat on my right. My fists relax. Something about his younger brother–like presence is comforting.

“Hey.” His tone is concerned. “What are you doing here?”

This is weird. My sister’s boyfriend hasn’t spoken to me much in ages. Not since long before Piper’s fall. In fact, Noah Crawford hasn’t been able to look at me or Grant without disgust written all over his face for almost a year. “Just, uh, checking out Piper’s club. Trying to get close to her in whatever way I can.”

The words don’t sound like me, and I can see in Noah’s narrowed green eyes that he knows it too. He adjusts his glasses and begins fumbling through his backpack. It takes him forever to wade through the books. Noah must be the only high school junior who carries an entire library around with him at all times.

Finally, his hand emerges with a ratty paperback. “Here.” He hands it to me before running his fingers through his ash-brown hair. “It was Piper’s.”

An angry heat crackles in my chest. My sister’snot dead. Not yet, anyway. Still, I say, “Thanks,” and tuck the book inside my own bag. “How have you been?”

He shrugs. “I’d be better if I could visit her.”

“I know,” I say, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s a stupid hospital policy.”

There’s something overwhelmingly sad in Noah’s eyes. Something that makes me want to lock myself in a bathroom stall and cry. Piper has always had a crush on Noah. They were friends for years, but I always referred to him as her future husband. I just knew that one day, they’d be together.

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