3. Skinny Love

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{Sarah}

Trevor comes to me with a proposition at lunchtime about a week later.

   "I have an idea," he says, looking around and leaning in close. "I was wondering if you'd want to start investigating that...incident from last week. You know. Just as curious and concerned citizens."

   I have to agree. We haven't done anything, and that note is the only evidence that it's happened.

   "Where do you propose we start? As these curious and concerned citizens?"

   "Resource officer," he says, gesturing with his fork to the police officer walking across the cafeteria. "She's bound to know something. I'd be surprised if she didn't have a whole report about it."

   "What are we going to say? 'We've decided to look into this case ourselves'? That's not really a great conversation starter."

   "Leave that to me. There's a way we can make this lie so convincing she won't even see through it."

   "You aren't going to hack anything, are you?" I raise my eyebrow. "Because that's a whole different story there."

   "No, no. I just know which strings to pull." He gives me a wink.

   "All right, Watson. I'm trusting you can do this."

   "Funny story, my last name actually is Watson."

   I grin. "Get out."

   "I won't."

   "Imagine that." I shake my head, stirring my food with no intention of eating it. "That isn't why you picked John Watson, is it?"

   He shrugs. "I just think he's a cool guy. But maybe a little bit."

   "Should I just start calling you John, then?"

   "If you want."

   "All right. It's a deal, John."

≈≈

I get a text from him the very same afternoon, right before my calculus class. It's a go. Front office, right after class lets out. I reply with an OK, feeling much better now that I don't have to do any of that. If it was one thing I wasn't good at, it was lying.

   Fortunately, today was not a day that I had to deal with Cameron Bower, so I'm actually feeling pretty good by the time the final bell rings. Ever since he'd asked me about the fake-dating thing, I'd avoided him completely. I even asked Mr. Hicks to reassign me lab partners. I swear, every time I see him, my blood pressure goes up. That can't be good for me.

   "There you are." Trevor claps my shoulder and shakes it. "You doing okay, Campbell?"

   "Better." I don't mention Cameron. That's become sort of a taboo subject.

   "Well, come on. We got a report and some security footage to look at."

   "You got security footage?" I give his arm a punch. "How'd you manage that one?"

   "It's just my spec-i-ality," he says, smiling.

   "Then what are we waiting for?"

   "Exactly what I was saying."

   Our cover story's pretty solid, apparently. Trevor's come up the idea that we're writing a paper on how people our age respond to violence, and we need at least one interview for research.

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