Wendy found a seat toward the back. An overly friendly father with a sucked-in gut and game-show-host smile sat next to her. He gestured toward the booths. "Safety overkill," he said. "We're so overprotective, don't you think?"

Wendy said nothing. The man's frowning wife took the seat next to him. Wendy made sure to say hello to the frowning wife, introducing herself and saying that she was Charlie's mother, studiously avoiding eye contact with the antisafety Guy Smiley.

Principal Pete Zecher took the podium and thanked everyone for coming during this "very difficult week." There was a moment of silence for Haley McWaid. Some had wondered why tonight hadn't been postponed, but the school activity calendar was so overwhelmingly crowded there were simply no other free dates. Besides, how long do you wait? Another day? Another week?

So, after another awkward moment or two had passed, Pete Zecher introduced Millie Hanover, who excitedly announced that this year's Project Graduation theme would be "Superheroes." In short, Millie explained in long, they would decorate the middle school gymnasium to look like various comic-book places. The Bat-cave. Superman's Fortress of Solitude. The X-Men's X-Mansion or whatever it was called. The Justice League of America's headquarters. Past years had seen the school decorated in Harry Potter theme, in the mode of the TV show Survivor (maybe that was more than a few years ago, Wendy thought now), even the Little Mermaid.

The idea behind Project Graduation was to give graduates a safe place to party after both the prom and commencement activities. Buses brought the students in, and all chaperones stayed outside. No drinking or drugs, of course, though in past years, some teens had sneaked them in. Still, with the chaperones on hand and buses providing transportation, Project Graduation seemed a great alternative to old-fashioned partying.

"I would love to recognize my hardworking committee chairs," Millie Hanover said. "When I call your name, please stand." She introduced her decorating chair, her beverage chair, her food chair, her transportation chair, her publicity chair, each standing to a smattering of applause. "For the rest of you, please volunteer. We can't do this without you, and it's a wonderful way to help make your child's graduation experience a positive one. Let's remember that this is for your children and you shouldn't rely on others." Millie's voice could have been more patronizing, but it was hard to imagine how. "Thank you for listening. The sheets are out for sign-up."

Principal Zecher next introduced Kasselton police officer Dave Pecora, the town safety commissioner, who proceeded to give the lowdown on the dangers associated with postprom, postgraduation parties. He talked about how heroin was making a comeback. He talked about pharm parties, where kids steal prescription drugs from their homes, put them in a big bowl, and partake in experimentation. Wendy had wanted to do a story about those last year, but she couldn't find any real-world examples, just anecdotal evidence. One DEA official told her that pharm parties were more likely urban myth than reality. Officer Pecora continued to warn against the dangers of underage drinking: "Four thousand kids per year die of alcohol overdose," though he didn't say whether that was worldwide or just the USA or what age those kids might be. He also reiterated the fact that "no parent is doing his kid a favor" by hosting a drinking party. With a stern look, he cited specific cases in which hosting adults were convicted of manslaughter and served jail time. He actually started describing the prison experience in some detail-like the parental version of Scared Straight.

Wendy surreptitiously checked the clock, again like when she was actually in school. Nine thirty. Three thoughts kept running through her head. One, she wanted to get out of here and see what was up with the suddenly cryptic Phil Turnball. Two, she should probably sign up for some committee or another. Even though she was dubious about this whole Project Graduation-part of it seeming like yet another way we cater to our child's every whim, part of it seeming more about the parents than the kids-it would be unfair, per Millie's condescending comment, to make others do all the work for something in which Charlie would partake.

And third, maybe most, she couldn't help but think about Ariana Nasbro and how alcohol and driving killed John. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Ariana Nasbro's parents should have attended one of these over-the-top orientations, if maybe all of this apparent safety overkill would indeed save a life during the next few weeks, so that some other family wouldn't have to deal with what she and Charlie had.

Zecher was back at the podium, finishing up with a thank-you-for-coming-out-tonight before breaking up the meeting. Wendy glanced around, looking for some familiar faces, disappointed in herself that she knew so few of her son's classmates' parents. Naturally the McWaids weren't there. Neither were Jenna or Noel Wheeler. Defending her scandalized ex-husband had cost Jenna Wheeler's family greatly in the suburban standings-but the murder of Haley McWaid must have made life here fairly untenable.

Parents started heading to the designated committee sign-in spots. Wendy remembered that Brenda Traynor, the publicity committee chair, was both friendly with Jenna Wheeler and a total gossip-a winning suburban combination. Wendy headed that way.

"Hi, Brenda."

"It's nice to see you, Wendy. Are you here to volunteer?"

"Uh, sure. I was thinking that I could help with publicity."

"Oh, that would be great. I mean, who better than a renowned TV reporter?"

"Well, I wouldn't say renowned."

"Oh, I would."

Wendy forced up a smile. "So where do I sign in?"

Brenda showed her the sheet. "We have committee meetings every Tuesday and Thursday. Would you be up for hosting one?"

"Sure."

She signed her name, keeping her head low. "So," Wendy said, aiming for the subtle and not getting anywhere close, "do you think Jenna Wheeler would make a good member of the publicity team?"

"You're joking, of course."

"I think she has a background in journalism," Wendy said, totally making that up.

"Who cares? After what she did, letting that monster into our community-I mean, that family is gone."

"Gone?"

Brenda nodded, leaned forward. "There's a For Sale on their house."

"Oh."

"Amanda isn't even coming to graduation. I feel bad for her-it's not her fault, I guess-but really, it's the right decision. It would spoil it for everyone."

"So where are they going?"

"Well, I heard that Noel got a job at some hospital in Ohio. Columbus or Canton or maybe Cleveland. All those Cs in Ohio, it's confusing. Come to think of it, I think it's Cincinnati. Another C. A soft C they call it, right?"

"Right. Have the Wheelers moved out there already?"

"No, I don't think so. Okay, Talia told me-do you know Talia Norwich? Nice woman? Daughter's name is Allie? A little overweight? Anyway, Talia said that she heard that they were staying at a Marriott Courtyard until they could relocate."

Bingo.

Wendy thought about what Jenna had said, about Dan, about the part of him she could never reach-but mostly, how had she put it? Something had happened to him in college. Maybe it was time to have another chat with Jenna Wheeler.

She said her good-byes, mingled on her way to the exit, and headed toward her meeting with Phil Turnball.