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  That counted for something, right?

  “Juliette set the fire and framed me,” I finally said. “She had an accomplice, I think, but I don’t know who yet.” I told Alina about the confrontation yesterday. “I have no proof, and Juliette won’t confess,” I finished. “And Paxton wants me to let it go.”

  “Why?” Alina’s eyes were wide. I told her what Paxton said about Juliette’s actions being his fault, and mine. “Please,” Alina scoffed. “You’re not going along with that, are you?”

  “I don’t know.” I sank down on the bed next to her. “Maybe he’s right.”

  Alina frowned. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to at least try and figure out who helped Juliette, does it? You can decide what to do about it later.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She was right: truth now, decisions later. Pulling Juliette’s yearbook onto my lap, I flipped to the back pages and stared at all the signatures. One of them had to be the person who’d helped frame me, right?

  “Rose. Let me help, okay?”

  I met Alina’s dark gaze. She smelled like lime today. Alina and her silly citrus perfumes. Despite my anger, it made me smile. I was still hurt, but she was trying. “Okay.”

  An hour later, we’d gone through most of the signatures of people Juliette knew well enough to have them sign her yearbook. Most of them probably didn’t mean much, but the non-generic signings were a good map of Juliette’s friends. Alina wrote every name in a notebook, jotted down anything we knew about them, and if we thought they were a possible suspect.

  “Kayla Saunders,” I said, reading off the latest name. “She’s a junior in yearbook. But I’ve already checked her out and crossed her off my list.” As I said that, though, I frowned. Something nagged at me.

  Yearbook photo minions idolized cameras, and most bought their own instead of using the school’s. So Kayla knew her cameras--but then again, anyone could have bought a Polaroid. And sure, Kayla had motive--she’d been soaked in her white shirt with Juliette at that party years ago, and clearly they both still hated me for it. But she couldn’t be the accomplice, because she’d been in Seattle with her family that night.

  Wait. That was it. I frowned, then shot off the bed.

  “What?” Alina asked.

  “Juliette knew I was going to have someone question the Science Club to discover Kayla and Marie’s alibis.” I filled her in on Paxton’s and my covert ops mission.

  Alina got it immediately. “So she could have warned Kayla to lie.”

  Was this too paranoid? “Or maybe she really did go to Seattle, and I’m just desperate.”

  Alina grabbed her phone from her purse. “Let’s find out.” We looked up Kayla’s family’s home number online--Kayla’s dad was a real estate agent, so it wasn’t hard to find--and Alina made the call while I paced.

  “Hi, Mrs. Saunders?” Alina said. “I’m a newspaper student at Petalina High, and I’m doing an article on tourism in Seattle. Kayla mentioned that you all took a trip there recently, so I was wondering if I could interview you about your experience. Would that be okay?”

  I waited for Mrs. Saunders to say there had been no trip to Seattle, but then Alina’s face fell. “Oh. Just some questions on where you went to dinner, and what you liked the most.”

  She kept talking, but I’d turned away.

  It wasn’t Kayla. Despair tugged at me, but I pushed it aside and went back to flipping through the yearbook. I’d keep going, there had to be--

  “Yes, now would be great,” Alina said loudly, waving her hand at me. She looked excited again. “I’ll be there in half an hour. See you soon!” She hung up with a grin.

  “Are we really pretending to interview them? What’s the point?”

  “Didn’t you hear?”

  “Yeah. They were in Seattle.”

  “Obviously your ears are defective, or you would have heard me ask what the date of their trip was. You want to guess?”

  My heartbeat was suddenly loud in my ears. “Not that weekend?”

  “Nope. First weekend of September.” Alina whooped and jumped off the bed with her purse. “Come on, we’ve got an accomplice to trap!”

  Chapter 25

  Mrs. Saunders ushered us into the living room. Alina had already ascertained that Kayla was out with friends and Mr. Saunders was at an open house, so once she got the interview underway--I’d hastily compiled a questionnaire on the way over--I asked to use the bathroom.

  “Of course,” Mrs. Saunders said, but she gestured towards the kitchen, not at the stairwell. “It’s by the laundry room.”

  I hesitated, and Alina jumped in. “I’m so sorry, but can Rose use an upstairs bathroom? I have a phobia about hearing people pee.” She grinned as if this wasn’t completely weird.

  Mrs. Saunders blinked, then smiled politely.

  “Upstairs, third door on the left.”

  “Thanks.” I strolled casually up to the second floor. Once out of sight, I flashed into double-speed. The second bedroom I peeked into had its far wall plastered with photographs of Kayla and her friends. Jackpot.

  Leaving the door open so I’d have a warning if anyone came upstairs, I looked around. A bookshelf held several photography and journalism guides, along with half a dozen cameras. I dashed over, scanning them ... yes! One was a Polaroid, the same kind Juliette had claimed she’d paid for in cash, then destroyed. But if Kayla was a photography buff, what were the odds she’d actually smash the incriminating camera?

  I checked to see if the camera had a memory chip. It did, but when I paged through the saved photos, they were all of Kayla and some friends at an amusement park.

  My eyes caught on Kayla’s computer, and I shook the mouse to wake it up. When I saw it wasn’t asking for a password, I almost broke into a cheer routine right there. Kayla probably never dreamed I’d come snooping around. I quickly found the My Pictures folder, but there were so many I’d never have time to sort through them all. I used the search function with Ryan’s and Francesca’s and my name as keywords, but nothing came up.

  I searched for “mission,” “arson,” “frame,” and anything I could think of that Kayla might have named the photos, but came up with a giant sack of nada.

  Frustrated, I plugged in the date-stamp as a search term, and pressed enter. If this didn’t work, I was out of ideas.

  It worked.

  There they were--the pictures of Ryan letting Francesca into the house, and the silhouettes of Francesca and Dane. I stared, almost not believing I’d found my proof after so long. My hands on the keyboard trembled.

  Alina’s voice from downstairs snapped me back into action. I took a screenshot of the photo thumbnails in their folder, and used Kayla’s email account to send it to myself.

  I thought to open the folder the incriminating pictures were stored in: it was called Zrandom and was a subset of “Freshman year,” obviously mislabeled to hide them. Inside were a lot more photographs. That night had clearly not been the only time Kayla tried to snap a picture that might imply Ryan was cheating. I emailed them all to myself from Kayla’s account.

  Hoping Kayla’s mom hadn’t gotten suspicious at my lengthy absence, I went back downstairs and rejoined Alina on the couch. She raised her brows at me, and I nodded. With a gleam in her dark eyes, Alina finished the interview.

  Before Mrs. Saunders could see us out, Kayla herself walked in. When she saw us in her living room ... I’ve never seen a girl get so pale so fast.

  Alina stood up. “Hi, Kayla.”

  “Um, hi.” Kayla stared at me. “What are you guys doing here?” From the frozen look in her eyes, she already knew.

  “I was asking your mom about your trip to Seattle,” Alina said brightly. “I think I’ve got plenty for that article I’m writing. I’d wanted to chat with you too--maybe we could go upstairs?�
�

  Kayla made a strangled noise, but agreed, and we trooped up to her room. Her gaze flew to her computer, noticing the folder of incriminating pictures I’d opened. She sank down on her bed and put her head in her hands. It was like all the fight went out of her.

  Alina closed the door, shutting us inside.

  “You framed me,” I said. My voice was low and cold. “You and Juliette.”

  “There wasn’t supposed to be a fire,” Kayla muttered. She looked up at me. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”

  “What was the plan?” Alina asked. I was glad she was here, because I didn’t know what to say now that Kayla was confessing. Thankfully, Alina had her phone in her hand, and I knew she must be recording whatever Kayla said.

  “It was just to make Rose think Ryan was cheating. I took the pictures, and Juliette was supposed to put them in an unmarked envelope in your mailbox. That was it.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Kayla shrugged.

  “Because we wanted to mess with your head. To get you back for your pranks.”

  “And ruin my life?!”

  “There wasn’t supposed to be any fire,” Kayla held her hands up in front of her, and I realized I’d stepped towards her menacingly. “But Juliette ...”

  “Were you there when Juliette set the fire?” Alina asked.

  “I was driving. I’d just meant to drop off the pictures, but she jumped in with your shirt, a container of gas and this fingertip thing made out of glue--

  “How exactly does that work?” I interrupted. “Faking someone else’s fingerprint?”

  “She said she’d taken a picture of one of your fingerprints, then printed it onto a transparency sheet and covered the print in wood glue. The ink makes indents in the transparency, so when the glue was dry all she had to do was swipe it with oil or sweat or whatever and press it to the photo. I thought she was crazy, but I guess it worked.” At the look on my face, Kayla dropped her gaze. “Anyway, she had me drive us to the boat club. I had no idea what she was going to do until the fire was already started, I swear.”

  “Someone could have gotten hurt, Kayla,” I said, thinking of Alina’s dad. “Besides me. I mean really hurt.”

  Kayla shook her head. “Juliette burned all the seat cushions, then hosed the fire out. All that was on fire when we left was some trash in a metal can.”

  “But what if--”

  “And afterward, you didn’t say anything?” Alina interrupted. She glanced at her phone and I realized she wanted to keep the confession going, so I shut up.

  “Juliette said if I did, we’d both go to jail.” Kayla’s face turned red and blotchy. “And Rose was only given community service, so I thought ...”

  “You thought you’d just ruin my life and get away with it?” I said.

  Kayla opened her mouth as if to protest, but then guilt swamped her eyes. Her shoulders slumped. “What are you going to do?”

  The answer was obvious: chuck Kayla to the police and clear my name. But I paused. Paxton wanted me to let Juliette confess on her own. He claimed it was his fault she’d framed me, that he’d inadvertently taught her to lash out. If I took away this chance for her to come forward on her own, would Paxton ever forgive me for it?

  But what if Juliette never confessed? The longer I waited, the less likely the police would be to believe me. And if she was never caught for this ... what if she did it again, to somebody else? What if, like my mom’s unchecked selfishness, she just got worse and worse until change was impossible?

  The thought of losing Paxton over this made my eyes ache with tears, but I fought them down. I couldn’t control what Juliette did, or what Paxton did. All I knew was that I couldn’t give up now.

  “You have to tell the truth,” I told Kayla. “You have to go to the police.”

  “And if you won’t,” Alina said, holding up her phone, “I recorded this conversation.”

  Kayla stared at us in panic, and her fists clenched in her lap. I tensed--would she try to fight us for the phone? Her face scrunched, going red, then pale.

  Finally she slumped, and shook her head.

  “You don’t need the recording.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll tell them what Juliette--what she and I did.”

  I stared at her, hardly daring to believe.

  “We’ll drive you to the station,” Alina said, but Kayla shook her head.

  “You don’t have to. I’ll have my mom drive me. I should tell her first anyway.” Kayla took in our expressions. “I’m not going to try and get out of it. I never should have let Juliette talk me into lying in the first place.”

  Was she sincere? I studied her, this junior I’d wronged and never apologized to, who’d schemed to get back at me. Maybe she hadn’t meant it to be so serious, but she’d still been so angry with me that she’d tried to break me and Ryan up just to mess with my head.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I said. “With the water balloons. They weren’t supposed to get you.”

  “And I never meant to frame anyone for arson,” Kayla shot back. “But that’s what happened. And now I’ll have to ...” She started to shake, as if it was just now hitting her what going to the police meant. Gulping deep breaths, Kayla dropped her head into her hands, her fingers forming fists in her red hair.

  Alina and I exchanged glances. Kayla had helped ruin my life, but now she looked so miserable that I almost felt bad for her.

  Finally Kayla stood. “Let’s go.” Tear tracks lined her cheeks, but she looked resolute.

  “When you get to the station, ask for Detective Kendricks,” I told her. “And ... thanks. For doing the right thing.”

  Kayla gave me a look full of loathing. “Shut up, Rose. Just go away.”

  Not knowing what to say, I turned woodenly to the door.

  Outside, Alina and I walked to her Jag.

  “We should still follow her there, make sure she actually goes,” Alina said, so we waited in the car.

  “So is that it?” I asked. “You think she’ll just turn herself in?”

  “If she doesn’t follow through, we’ve got the convo recorded,” Alina assured me.

  “I emailed the photos to myself too,” I said. I felt like I’d walked face-first into a locker door. Was this really it? I felt almost numb. I’d expected yelling. Honestly, I’d expected Kayla to echo Juliette’s defiance. I’d expected to have to drag her kicking and screaming to the police station. But Kayla wasn’t Juliette with her years of resentment. She hadn’t meant to frame me for arson, and guilt was hard to carry.

  “Kayla is going to be toast at school on Monday,” Alina said.

  “No,” I said. It came out sharp. “Leave her alone.”

  Alina glanced over in surprise.

  “Rose, she and Juliette are the reason you--”

  “Were ostracized at school? No, they weren’t.” Our gazes met and clashed, and Alina’s cheeks flushed. She turned to stare at Kayla’s house.

  “I was going to say they were the reason you were dragged to jail, but whatever.” She looked stony, but also about to cry. After a minute or so I sighed.

  “Alina, you just ... dropped me.”

  “I told you I was sorr--”

  “It’s not just me. Remember Beverly, in middle school? You did the same thing to her.”

  Alina turned to me again, brows rising in disbelief.

  “She made fun of my mom. Who had cancer, if you’ll recall.”

  “And what, Beverly never apologized?”

  Alina blinked, then faced forward. “Maybe. I don’t remember.” She fidgeted, then crossed her arms. “Fine, I get what you’re saying. I’m a terrible person.”

  “You’re not. But sometimes you act that way.” We sat in uneasy silence until I glanced over. “Tha
nks for helping me today.”

  “You’re welcome.” Alina’s voice was tight.

  Kayla and her mom came outside then, the former looking drawn and the latter angry and stunned. They climbed into a purple minivan and left.

  “You want to follow them?” Alina asked. I shook my head.

  “It’s over,” I said. “Let’s go home.”

  Chapter 26

  The rest of the weekend was a blur. Once Kayla confessed, it was like pushing the first Domino; the rest tumbled over in their turn. Juliette was arrested, I was pulled back in for more questions, and the truth all came out like a flood. I heard that initially Juliette refused to admit guilt even after Kayla’s confession, but Detective Kendricks cracked her defenses after only twenty minutes.

  I’d tried to call Paxton, but he wasn’t answering. His parents and my parents weren’t speaking either, because my dad had apparently said some incendiary things to Juliette’s parents when she finally confessed to framing me. She was being charged with a slew of felony and misdemeanor counts. I didn’t even know how Ryan and his family were taking this.

  Alina stayed by me throughout the whole horrible weekend, only going home late Sunday to get ready for school the next day.

  On Monday, I woke up still feeling numb. I’d won--my name was cleared. It felt good, deep down--except for the part where Paxton was never going to forgive me.

  I needed to talk to him. Cornering him at his house was out of the question, so it would have to be at school. Juliette probably wouldn’t be there today, but I hoped Paxton would.

  When we got to school Alina dropped me off by the doors so I could try to catch Paxton at his locker while she parked, but he never showed. As the halls filled and I finally had to head for homeroom, a girl from Student Council stopped me in the hallway.

  “I always knew you were innocent,” she said. “Don’t worry, we’ll make that bitch pay.”