I nodded. “But let me point out the obvious. Isn't it possible that someone here had something to do with the theft?”

She shrugged. “Anything's possible. I can't imagine that the people I've heard were here would have anything to do with it, but I guess you never know, right?” She frowned again. “And here's the thing. Even if they just did something dumb and c o a me in to work or whatever, but had nothing to do with the computers, their reputations will still take a hit, you know? And people will talk about them, wondering if they were involved. And I can guarantee some of the kids will run with those rumors and the next thing you know, they'll have created some story about a math teacher running some sort of underground black market for stolen computers.”

I'd already seen the school gossip hotline in action with Charlotte. TMZ had nothing on high school.

I thought about what she said, my mind going back to one of her statements. “Do you know who was here this weekend?”

Charlotte's hand froze on her bracelet. She spun it slowly, her eyes glued to it.

“Charlotte?”

She took a deep breath. “I really shouldn't say. Because I don't know anything for certain. All I've heard are rumors and I don't want to say anything that isn't true. For all I know, the school could've been empty this weekend and whoever took the computers has nothing to do with the school.” She shrugged. “So I really don't know anything.”

I leaned back in my chair, trying to quell my disappointment. She was right to not pass along the rumors because that was probably all they were. And there was no reason for her to share what she'd heard with me. After all, we'd basically just met the day before and she'd been working with the staff at Prism for years.

I tried to not take it personally.

But it really did jumpstart my curiosity.

FIFTEEN

I needed to refocus.

My brain was trying to sabotage my entire day by ignoring the fundraiser I needed to plan and instead focusing on something else entirely: who might've been inside the school and who might've been involved with stealing the computers. The more I tried to remind myself that they were just rumors, the more my mind wanted to come up with scenarios that were better suited for nighttime television. If I stayed preoccupied with the rumors and the possibilities, the talent show would never get planned, much less executed.

So I tried to get serious.

I made a list of things that had to be accomplished prior to the show, a list of what would be needed to be done during the show and a list of follow up activities after the show. Then I listed the names of people I knew at the school to approach about participating in some way. I was able to get a list of faculty and staff from Charlotte, as well as some information from Ellen about what I needed to do to request chairs and set-up for the event in the auditorium. I filled out the event request form and turned it in to the appropriate box. And then I knew it was time to start on the toughest task of all.

Finding volunteers.

I decided to start with the person who I thought might have the most incentive to help.

Mr. Riggler.

When I'd gone to get the information about requesting set-up, Ellen had also been kind enough to print me off a master class schedule so I could see when teachers were free during the day. I knew I'd have to speak to most of them in the next couple of days and knowing when they were available so I wouldn't disrupt their classes was helpful.

He was perched at his desk in the back of the room, his shoulders hunched over, staring hard at a laptop screen. I knocked lightly on the open door and he nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide. “Oh. Mrs. Savage. Hello.”

“Hi,” I said. “And please call me Daisy. I apologize for startling you. Is this a bad time?”

“What?” he asked, then shook his head. “Oh, no. It's fine. I was just concentrating. Sometimes I get a little lost when I'm reading.” He closed the laptop screen and pushed the computer aside. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I'm not sure yet,” I said. “Have you heard about the fundraiser I've been put in charge of?”

His expression told me everything I needed to know. “No. I've kind of been in my own little world here.”

“Right. Well, Mrs. Bingledorf has tasked me with planning a fundraiser to help buy new computers,” I explained. “And we're going to do a talent show here at the school and charge admission.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” he said. Then he looked at me, his eyebrows pushed together in a frown. “Wait. We have to raise money to buy new computers? We don't have the money? Or the insurance?”

“I'm not really sure of the situation,” I said. “I think Mrs. Bingledorf is worried that getting reimbursed will take too long and she wants to do something to at least purchase a few new computers.”

“So they can't buy any right away?” he asked.

“It doesn't sound like it, no.”

He looked away for a moment and I assumed he was disappointed, maybe frustrated, because it was going to complicate his teaching. But when he turned back to me, I swore he was trying to hide the remnants of a...smile.

“Wow,” he said. “Okay. I didn't know that. That is...well, that's just a bummer, I guess.”

But there was no sadness or frustration in his voice. He sounded...happy. Or something like that. And maybe that was why the rumors Charlotte had mentioned hijacked my brain again.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said, watching him closely.

He reached for a small stack of papers on his desk. “Sure, anything.”

“I've heard a rumor,” I said. “About teachers being in the building over the weekend. Even though that's against the rules. Do you know anything about that?”

He squirmed in his chair and any smile that had been lurking disappeared. “No,” he said, studying the paper on the top of the stack. He stole a quick glance at me. “Why would you ask me that? We can't be here on the weekends. It's against the rules. So who would be here? Why would they be here? And why would you ask me? Did someone say they saw me here? Who saw me here? I mean, who said they saw me here?”

I was startled by how defensive he was. “No one,” I told him. “I just heard some rumors that there may have been some Prism staff in the building over the weekend. That's all.”

“We aren't allowed in the building during the weekend,” he said defensively. He pushed at his glasses and I noticed a fine sheen of sweat blossoming on his forehead. “Everyone knows that. So I couldn't have been here. I wouldn't have been. That's against the rules. I don't know who would've seen me here. I mean, if I'd been here. Which I definitely wasn't.”

He was talking so fast, his words were rushing together. The more he denied, the more guilty he sounded.

“Okay,” I said. “I'm sorry. I was just—”

“You know, we encourage the students to ignore rumors,” he said, trying to sound firm. “Because nearly all rumors are false. Especially ones like these that can't possibly be true. So I really don't think you should mention them anymore. Because I definitely was not here.”

I'd never once directly accused him and I hadn't really thought he was the one sneaking into the building during the weekend. I hadn't thought of anyone in particular, mostly because I just wasn't that familiar with anyone on the staff. But Miles Riggler had now totally convinced me that he'd been in the building over the weekend, despite denying it like crazy.

“You're right,” I said before he could start offering up another defense. “I'm sorry for bringing it up. I'm not sure what I was thinking.”

Except that, you know, maybe you're one of the ones sneaking in here on the weekends...

He eyed me for a moment and then something flickered in his eyes.

“It's okay,” he said. “And I'm sorry I reacted so strongly. I just don't like rumors at all. They can only hurt. Especially ones that have no truth to them. Like the ones you've apparently heard.”