Page 37 of Stranger Danger

God, maybe he did take a whole bunch of loopy pills, and he’s having a mental breakdown. I’ve never seen one in real time like this.

“You weren’t anywhere else tonight?” he asks. “You’ve been on campus the entire time?”

I start to shake my head, then stop.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t—don’t maybe me, man.” He collapses onto the floor, running his hands through his curly hair until it covers his face. “Yes or no.”

“Maybe means maybe.”

“Why is it so hard to answer a question?”

I shrug. “I have a lot of answers. Do you have a dealer? Whatever the hell you’re on sounds like it’s a lot of fun.”

He goes quiet for so long that I’m pretty sure I can be named the victor in this duel. I can see my name in lights now—

“So if I say, Mr. Stan, it doesn’t ring a bell?” he asks.

No one else would know such specific shit.

No one.

“I wish your pants matched your rabbit ears.”

Oh.

My God.

You’re my pen pal.

All the heat falls out of my body at once. I rip the comforter off my bed and bundle up inside it, trying to stop my teeth from chattering. My insides are crawling out of my throat one by one.

I hear something hit the floor.

“What the fuck,” he whispers.

Yeah.

Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.

There’s ringing in my ears. It keeps starting and stopping without any warning. I can’t tell where it’s coming from. Can’t tell why my fingers are numb, either. They don’t feel cold anymore.

I snake my arm out to grab my pillow, pressing it into my chest and stomach. The pressure helps. Some. It makes my mouth stop watering. I probably won’t make it to the bathroom if I have to puke.

“Stop hiding,” he grumbles. “We have to… I don’t know. We have to talk about this.”

“Can I text?”

No answer again.

I press my forehead into the cool pillow—

Then the comforter’s yanked off. I pull the pillow down a little and move my legs, so I don’t accidentally flash him.

Beckett’s standing over me, leaning so close I can see how green his eyes actually are.

“You’re not texting me about seventeen goddamn murders, Ira,” he snarls in the same voice as my best friend. “I don’t think you’re actually stupid.”