“Come with me.” I clamp a hand around Jenna’s wrist and pull her down the hall.

“Where are you going?” she demands. “I have an advisory meeting with Principal Haverford.”

“It can wait.”

“But I need his approval—”

“Seriously, Jenna, don’t you want to help me catch the person who stole your sketchbook?”

That silences her protests.

Thankfully the halls are mostly empty. Half of the student body is probably eating, either in the cafeteria or in some secret spot around campus. The rest are in study sessions or advisor meetings. No one is there to see me physically drag Jenna out to the picnic table where Tru is waiting for me.

Assault. Kidnapping. Forced socializing at lunchtime. That probably wouldn’t look good on my permanent record.

We come up on Tru from behind, so he doesn’t see who I have in tow.

“Hey, what took you so—” He sees Jenna dangling at the end of my arm. “Hey Jenna.” He flashes me a confused look.

“I don’t think Jenna is the one who set me up,” I say.

“What? Me? No,” Jenna argues immediately. “Of course not.”

I ignore her. “I think it’s Aimeigh.”

“You think it’s…” His question trails off, and I can see him sliding the puzzle pieces into place.

Tru has known her longer than me. How can he not know what she’s done? He must have seen things, heard things. He’s just too good-hearted to want to think something so terrible of his friend.

“You think what is Aimeigh?” Jenna asks.

“But why?” Tru asks. “Why would she do it?”

“To get me out of the way for the scholarship competition,” I explain. I nod at Jenna. “To get us all out of the way.”

“You think it’s Aimeigh what?” Jenna repeats, as if changing her emphasis will get her an answer.

Maybe it does.

“Who spread red plastic all over the front of the school. Got Jaq suspended. Set up Mira for cheating.”

Jenna stares at me blankly.

Clearly I’m going to have to explain it closer to home.

“She stole your sketchbook.”

Jenna gasps and her jaw drops open. “I knew it!”

Yeah, clearly.

Tru’s brows draw together in thought, and I can only imagine what he’s processing. Aimeigh is his friend—as much as Tru has friends—so it must be hard to suddenly be asked to doubt her.

“We couldn’t go to Haverford with a guess,” Tru says. “Even if Aimeigh is guilty, we’re going to need proof.”

“I know,” I say with a shrug. And thus endeth my plan.

How do you prove someone did something when there is no evidence? Clearly she’s covered her tracks well, or someone else would have suspected her before now. She would have been expelled instead of Tru or me.

“Any suggestions?” I ask our little group.

Tru shrugs. “You’re the evil mastermind,” he says. “You come up with all the plans.”

I’m not sure whether to kiss him or punch him in the arm, so I settle for neither. I slide onto the bench next to him, letting my arm press against his. He presses back. We’re in this together now. All the way.

“We could confront her,” Jenna suggests.

Tru and I exchange a glance.

I ask, “Do you really think she’ll confess?”

“She’s too clever for that,” Tru says.

“You’re probably right.” Jenna smiles awkwardly. “Too bad we couldn’t catch her in the act.”

Tru nods. “Too bad there’s no one left to sabotage.”

“Yeah,” I say, starting to agree. “No, wait. Actually there is.”

They both look at me. I point at myself.

“Right,” Tru says. “She didn’t actually take you out.”

“Or Jenna either,” I say. “We may have had setbacks, but we’re still contenders.”

We all fall silent, presumably trying to think up a way to use this information. Thoughts are spinning in my mind like Dylan’s dead goldfish in the toilet bowl. Suddenly, the thoughts lock into place, and I know what we need to do.

Like Tru said, I’m the evil mastermind. I come up with all the plans. And this one is going to knock Aimeigh’s socks off.

“I’ve got it,” I say. “I know how we’re going to catch Aimeigh in the act.”

“How’s that?” Tru asks.

I flash him a diabolical smile. “By giving her exactly what she wants.”

She’ll never see it coming.

Chapter Twenty

We have all the details hammered out and are ready to carry out our plan between third and fourth periods on Friday. Right before senior seminar. Aimeigh and I walk together from Building E as usual.

She’s too smart to miss anything really out of the ordinary. Between us, Tru, Jenna, and I have the timing all figured out.

As soon as I settle into my seat in senior seminar, I reach into my bag. I dig around for a couple of minutes. Put the bag on the table and search through everything.

“Damn it,” I mutter.

Jenna walks in, right on cue.

“What?” Aimeigh asks.

How had I missed the tone in her voice before? She sounds almost delighted at my distress. Now that my new-girl blinders are off, I’m seeing her in a whole new light. And it’s not an attractive one.

“My tablet,” I say. “It’s not in my bag.”

“Bummer,” Aimeigh says, doing a fair approximation of actual sympathy.

Jenna takes her seat at the head of the table, making a big show of getting out her notebook.

This class session is supposed to be our first official meeting about the senior project, so of course she would have a bunch of things ready to present.

“I don’t know where I could have left it. I haven’t used it all day.” I dig through my bag again, as if certain that I must just not be seeing it in there. “It has all my new work for the scholarship portfolio on it. I haven’t backed it up yet.”

A lie, of course. But hopefully just the kind of bait Aimeigh is looking for.

Jenna doesn’t look up from her supplies. “Is it the one with the Roy Lichtenstein cover?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” I say. “Have you seen it?”

She smiles absently. “I found it on the counter in Mr. Danziger’s room. I put it on the file cabinet next to the door.”

“Oh great,” I say, starting to push to my feet.

For a second I don’t think Aimeigh is going to bite. She’s going to let me get up and retrieve my not-really-forgotten tablet without a hitch.

For a split second I have doubts. What if I’m wrong? What if Aimeigh isn’t the culprit? What if—

“Hey, wait,” she says, grabbing my arm before I can move away from the table. “I left my seminar notebook in my locker. I can grab your tablet on my way back.”

I smile with relief, inside and out.

“Great,” I say. “Thanks.”

As soon as she’s out the door, I exchange a look with Jenna.

She pulls out her laptop and flips up the screen as I drop into the seat next to her. Her browser is open to the webcam feed that Tru set up. He’s monitoring it from the supply closet in the chemistry classroom.

Jenna and I watch the screen, waiting for Aimeigh to appear. When she does, I literally hold my breath. What if we’re wrong?

I have to admit, part of me wants to be wrong. The part of me that was grateful for the easy friendship she offered wants her to prove me wrong. Even if that means going back to square one in the hunt for the copycat vandal, it would be worth it to know that she really was my friend.

I stare at the screen, hoping she just grabs the tablet and brings it to me.

But she doesn’t.

Aimeigh snatches the tablet from the counter where Jenna placed it earlier. She turns her back to the door, shielding herself from the view of anyone walking by. Completely unaware of the webcam capturing her every keystroke from above.

I watch, horrified, as she flips open the tablet and pulls up my CloudFile app. Locates my portfolio folder. And promptly deletes it.

She even goes to the trash folder and empties that, deleting the files permanently.