Peer Pressure
Dodie Dunstan died last night," she said.
Strangely, my first thought was that Dodie had a last name. Other than Doorknob, that is. Was that how you talked about a dead person? You used her full name?
Ms. Samuels' voice caught, but she continued. "The police don't suspect foul play."
"That means what?" I asked, confused.
"She offed herself. Suicide," Jaz said, turning his intense stare in my direction for the first time all morning. He pursed his lips, considering. "She seems like the pill type to me. She wouldn't want to see blood.
Erin sucked in a sharp breath. "And I know you, Nick, because I can smell the stink of trash anywhere."
Shut up, Erin, I thought. Just shut up. Let them shave your head and get it over with. Nick bent over and grabbed Erin by the jaw, pulling her up so she was sitting. She was shaking. There was a smirk on his face, and I could hear how hard he was breathing. He pushed his mask up onto the top of his head.
Black smoke bites my lungs. I gasp to get a breath. As I turn away from the police car, there's a whooshing sound and flames spill from the broken windows. People scramble back from the heat. It feels like my jersey is on fire, but it's not. The torched car, the cheering crowd; it's awful and scary and weirdly fun, like we're in a virtual world. But the smoke is real—very real—and all rules are off.
