Getting a Clue

"The final? Which final?"

"You know," he says, nodding. "The final. You know, forensics class."

The forensics final? "The crime scene?" I squeak.

"Yeah." He nods some more, slowly, and finally looks at me. "I keep thinking..." he says. "I keep thinking about what you said."

"What did I say?" I'm supposed to remember? I said a lot of things, before and after the screaming in shock. Stumbling across a real dead body will do that to a girl.

"You said something wasn't right," he says.

With a little half step I have my butt up against the porch rail, and I climb up onto it and face Shane full on. "That was before we found..."

But Shane shakes his head. "No. I mean, I know that's when you said it. But I think you're right. Something's not right about the whole thing."

"Well duh. There was an actual crime. The blood was real. I mean, think about it. For forensics, real blood is not normal. For forensics class, that is."

But Shane is shaking his head again. "No, that's not it. There's something else."

"Like what?" I fold my arms, trying to keep my warmth to myself.

"I don't know. But I want to find out." He pauses, checks the street again, then locks his eyes on mine. "I want to find out who killed Mr. Myers. And I want you to help."