Please Don't Tell by Laura Tims Page A

trapezoid, breathe with it.
    But Pres is in problem-solve mode. “They must have figured out a way to frame you, so nobody finds out what they did. But first, since it’s convenient, they’re going to use you to get revenge on someone else they hate—Principal Eastman. Two birds with one stone.”
    This still doesn’t fix it. But he’s getting there. He’s got this.
    I scrape myself together. “It’s like everything that was jumping around in my head all panicked is lined up neat in a row now.”
    â€œI’m good at this sort of thing,” he says. “And I think I have a pretty good guess as to who the blackmailer is.”
    I’m okay, I’m safe, he solved it. “Who?”
    â€œCassius Somerset.”
    â€œWhat?” No way.
    â€œYou saw his black eye? Cassius got in a fight with Adam at the party. I was there. He tackled Adam, and Adam punched him in the face.” He’s getting excited now. “It makes sense.”
    â€œCassius was Adam’s best friend.”
    â€œThat’s what I’m saying. He fits. Adam did something to make Cassius so angry that he’d attack him at his birthday party. Maybe even drunkenly push him when he was standing next to the quarry. Adam must have let slip what he did to Grace.” Preston smooths out the note again and again. “So he panicked. He knew you were blackout drunk that night. The only thing I’m hung up on is that Cassius has no reason to hate you this much.”
    I dig my nails again into the inside of my wrist. I saw Grace do it in middle school. She said the pain zapped her back to the present.
    â€œI never told you this because I hate thinking about it now,” I say slowly. “But Cassius and I hooked up over the summer. Maybe he has weird feelings toward me because of that.”
    â€œJoy.”
    â€œIt’s Cassius, though. He protested the frog dissection in bio.”
    â€œJoy,” he repeats. “You do know that’s his little sister in the photos with Eastman?”
    â€œWhat?” I grab the photos. They don’t look alike. She’s slim, no trace of vitiligo.
    â€œSavannah Somerset. She’s a freshman this year,” he says. “That explains why Cassius wants Eastman to be publicly humiliated.”
    I want to believe him, I want all of this to be over before it starts. But it feels wrong. “If that’s his sister, he wouldn’t have me put these all over school.”
    â€œMaybe he’s mad at his sister, too.”
    â€œWhat are we even gonna do—confront him?”
    â€œWe need a plan. If we’re right, he killed somebody. He’s dangerous.”
    â€œ I’m more dangerous than Cassius Somerset.”
    â€œQuiet people, Joy. You can’t see into their heads.”
    I remember how I tried to get to know Cassius over the summer, how little he spoke when I did.
    â€œIn the meantime, do you need help putting the pictures up tomorrow morning?” says Preston suddenly.
    I shrink away. “What?”
    â€œWe have to assume Cassius has something to back this up. Some way to make it look like you killed Adam. It wouldn’t be hard for the police to figure out you blacked out that night. You could be tried as an adult and sent to prison. Until we figure this out, we have to play along. This is murder, Joy.”
    â€œYou’re sure—you think there’s no chance he’s telling the truth—”
    I said it without thinking: I’m more dangerous.
    â€œYou are not capable of something like that,” he says firmly.
    I’m so exhausted. “Either way, I can’t spread these around. Imagine being Savannah, coming to school, seeing these pictures everywhere.”
    â€œIt’s not ideal. But it’s better than you going to prison .”
    â€œI can’t, Pres. I need to take the pictures to the cops no matter what the note says.” My fingertips