“What do you think happened to Olivia?”

“Besides someone stabbing her, you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Taylor said, trying to conceal her annoyance. “Why her? Why your bedroom?”

Brianna shrugged. “You ask a lot of good questions. I guess you’re the daughter of a question-asker so you just do it without thinking about how rude it might sound.”

Keep calm. She’s a twit. A rich twit. A traumatized twit.

“Without thinking?” Taylor asked. “What happened to Olivia was either random or intentional. In any case, whoever did it will get caught and go to prison. I just want to know who did it. Beth is my friend. I care about her, and this has really hurt her too.”

“I’m the one that this mess has hurt. Olivia and I were tight. I adored her. I wanted to spend Christmas with her in London.”

“Hey, Baby.”

Taylor turned to find Drew practically leapfrogging over her to get to Brianna. He didn’t acknowledge Taylor at all.

“Hi, Drew,” Taylor said.

He ignored her. “Cops keep bugging me for another interview,” he said to Brianna.

Brianna shook her head in disgust. “You, too? Mom texted me during Spanish that they want to talk to me again, too. Can’t they just take decent notes?”

“I guess not,” Drew said, sticking his finger in Brianna’s whipped cream and then offering his finger to her.

If she licks it, I’m going to hurl, Taylor thought.

Which, of course, is exactly what Brianna did. As her tongue rolled over his finger, Drew shuffled his feet and squirmed in ecstasy.

“Hey guys, nice talking to you,” Taylor said, backing away, wishing there was antibacterial spray for the brain so she could forget the last couple of minutes.

WITH DREW GONE OFF TO CLASS and the bevy of curiosity seekers and fake friends dissipated, Brianna smoked an electronic cigarette in the bathroom stall. It was against school rules to smoke on campus, of course, and in doing so a kid risked the same sort of wrath the FAA might bring down on a smoker on an airplane. The beauty of the electronic cigarette was that the wispy vapor was water, not smoke. There was no worry about tripping the smoke alarms, plus the price of cigarettes was sky high—too pricey for the average teenager’s allowance. Money wasn’t an issue for Brianna, but she liked to steal a little. In her circle, she wasn’t alone in that regard.

Brianna had managed to snag her dad’s phony cigarette and assorted cartridges—including the disgusting menthol ones that he ordered through the mail by mistake. He never even knew that they were missing. And there she sat, not really smoking, but really mad.

Sure, she was enjoying all the attention of Olivia’s death, but at the end of the day, all this left her with was Drew (who was fun, but not exactly a life partner), her good-for-nothing parents, and even worse, her nicey-nicey stepmother. Her dad and stepmom had cut their cruise short, which out of everything that happened, provided the biggest ray of sunshine.

Serves them right, she thought. They are so selfish.

When it came to her mother, Brandy, Brianna had always talked a good game. She’d defended her mom’s abhorrent behavior to the wall whenever someone suggested that Brandy Connors Baker was less than Mom of the Year material. When Brianna was in elementary school, Brandy ditched her husband and only child for another man. Lawyer Robby Baker was younger, more handsome, and far richer than Brianna’s dad. At first Brianna made her father the heavy, blaming him for her mom’s unhappiness. In time, she turned her blame on Robby, first wondering what self-respecting man would still call himself Robby and not Rob or Robert, and then focusing her hatred on him as a home wrecker. Whenever Brianna tried to make plans with her mother, Robby would step into the mix and ruin everything. Brandy would be full of apologies and promises of rescheduling, but nine times out of ten, things ended the same way.

“Robby has made other plans, Honey. I just can’t get over to the peninsula this weekend after all. Rain check. You understand, sweetie.”

When Brianna was twelve, her mother had said that she couldn’t come and pick her up at the ferry for the weekend of shopping she’d promised. Brandy had left a message on Brianna’s cell. Again, Robby was to blame.

“Honey, forgive me. Robby’s sick and is being a big baby. I have to spend all weekend taking care of him. I love you. Rain check.”

Brianna’s heart sank. She heard something familiar in the background. She had played the v-mail over and over until she was sure. It was there all right. There was no mistaking it.

“Flight 253 service to Miami boarding now at B-8.”

It wasn’t Robby who had screwed things up and continued to keep them apart. It was her mother.

After that, Brianna took her mother on her mother’s terms. Whenever she had time, whenever Robby didn’t have more exciting plans, and whenever Brandy felt guilty enough, mother and daughter saw each other. Brianna told everyone she had a great mom and that her mother was always doing special things for her.

“My mom got me this cool top from Saks in Bellevue,” she’d lie to friends, when, in fact, Brianna had purchased it herself online.

“My mom is taking me to Italy in August. I’m so lucky,” she’d tell teachers when they asked about her summer plans. The following fall she’d be back in school with an expensive Italian leather purse.

“My mom and I saw it in a shop in Milan and she just had to get it for me.”

It was only a half-truth. Her mother did buy it in Milan, but she was there with Robby and had shipped the package to Brianna in Port Gamble.

Every time she carried the soft Italian leather bag, she’d say “Ciao,” explaining, “It’s something my mom and I got into when we were in Florence. It felt so right there and, well, I just love the way it sounds.”

Brianna out-and-out lied about her mother. She told nearly everyone that her mom was the best mother in the world.

“She’s always getting mistaken for Demi Moore, you know,” she once told a group of girls hanging around Pretzel Time at the mall. “She’s the prettiest mom in the world. I’m so lucky that I favor her side

of the family. What a total relief! If I looked like my dad’s side of the family, I’d kill myself right here and now.”

When she had called her mom about Olivia’s murder, Brandy had said she’d be right there. A few minutes later, Brianna had gotten a text message:

HONEY, CAN’T MAKE THE BOAT. MISSED THE LAST CROSSING. LUV U.

Brianna knew that was a lie. There were two more boats early that morning. Even when she needed her the most, Brandy just couldn’t rise to the occasion. She could send money. She could send false promises. She could even look the part of the adoring mother when the camera zoomed in on the rare outing together. Deep down, it was painfully obvious that Brandy Connors Baker just wasn’t the mommy type.

While Annie Garnett and all the other cops had collected evidence after the big Halloween party, Brianna had held back her blackest feelings and had texted a reply to her mother:

OKAY. I’LL BE FINE. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME.

Her dad, Brian, for whom she was named, wasn’t much better than her mom. She loved him, but she hated Shelley, her stepmother, whom her dad always seemed to put first. She wondered if Shelley was good for him or merely better than nothing. Brianna couldn’t understand why her mom would just go off and leave them. It was so selfish. Couldn’t she have waited until her daughter was out of high school to trade in her life like all the other moms?

Brianna could feel her anger swell, just as it had during the Halloween party. Puffing on wet air in the stall, Brianna remembered how she had picked up the crystal vase and flung it against the wall. Glittery shards had rained down on the room. Her hand was cut, but she didn’t care.