I stare at the computer screen in front of me. A million tiny tabs are lined up in my search browser — none of them related to the school project I should be working on.

How to know if you've accidentally taken drugs.

Below are a list of all the symptoms to watch out for if you've had drugs in your systems.

Sweating. Hunger. Nausea. Headaches.

Well, you know what? School makes me sweat (during phys ed), makes me hungry and nauseous, and gives me headaches. Why do these sites always give the most vague symptoms known to mankind?

Hallucinations. Blackouts of memory.

Oh, great. That's what I'm trying to figure out. I wouldn't know if I blacked out, would I?

My mouse clicks on a new tab. At the top of the page, it reads: how to take a drug test. Apparently they have to be ordered by a doctor, police officer, school administration member, or some other official in an organization that would have reason to order a drug test. They aren't available in stores. Besides, it's not like I can just run to the store and buy one without cash. And I can't ask Mom to buy it for me. My credit card is out of the question.

My elbows sink into the blankets on my bed, my chin resting on them. A drug test is pointless at this point, anyway. Would the xanax even show up after this much time? It's been a month since Evan's death.

I open a new browser. My fingers fly across the keys, and I search "how long do drugs last in a person's system to show up on a drug test?"

"Knock, knock." The door opens to my room. A miniature scream escapes my throat, and I quickly exit the tab, leading to a blank blue screen. There goes all my research and articles from the past hour and a half.

Mom peeks inside, a crease in her eyebrows. "That seemed like an awfully quick exit strategy. What were you looking at?"

"Nothing," I sigh. "I was just, uh, working on a project, and you startled me."

"Really?" her eyebrows arch. She walks over to my bed, looking over my shoulder at my desktop. "You want to stick with that story?"

"Okay, fine. I was looking up Christmas presents for you."

Mom laughs. "It's only the beginning of October."

"Never too early."

She grins and looks down at her plate of blueberry muffins. My mouth waters at the smell. "I just brought you some studying fuel. But perhaps you don't need it if you're only internet shopping."

"Of course I need it!" I lean over, snatching one off the plate. It's still warm in my palms, and I bite into the sweet, warm, and pillowy top.

"Fine," Mom says. "How many do you need?"

"I'll take two," I say with my mouthful. I grab another from the plate. "Thanks."

"Sure thing. Now I have to run out to the store real quick. Will you be alright?"

"Yes of course."

"Great, see you later." Mom leaves my room. Her footsteps thump down the stairs.

My gaze returns to my computer screen. I sigh, at a loss for what to do. Should I try to go back to my "research?"

The clock in the corner of my screen is a ticking time bomb, counting down until my part of the french geography project is due. We're supposed to create a life-sized map of France. I'm supposed to have researched the mountain chains in France, such as where they start and end, what major towns they run through, and some interesting facts about the makeup of the rocks.

I haven't started any of it. With all the semi investigations, I haven't had time. Maybe I should focus more on my schoolwork and less on trying to figure out what happened to Evan.

But no, no I can't do that. Because there's a chance I could be wrapped up in all of this. If I'm responsible for his death, I have to know.

If I'm not responsible... then I guess I still should know. It's the not-knowing that slowly suffocates me. I can't live with that uncertainty. I must know one way or another. I must know how I must view myself going forward: as a normal schoolgirl or as a killer.

Have I killed before? The strange deja vu from the dream has been eating at me too. What if this isn't the first time this has happened?

So many questions spiral through my head, whirling and building into a tornado of thoughts and anxiety that's uncontrollable. It tears through me, leaving me shaking and clutching my bedspread.

I have to know. I must know. I must find out.

My body trembles, and my breaths come in short, panicked bursts. My heart is beating a million miles a minute.

What am I going to do with myself if I really did kill Evan? The weight of the world falls on my shoulders, and I'm being pounded down by it.

A ringing pierces my thoughts. I blink, my shuddering limbs stabilizing enough for me to turn my attention to the phone beside me. with shaky hands, I pick it up. The screen shows that Hannah is calling me.

I inhale three deep breaths. By that time, the call has ended, but there's a voice mail message left in its wake.

"Hey Madelyn, just wanted to check in on how the project is coming. I had a quick question on one of the rivers for my part of the assignment. It runs through the mountains, so I thought you might know. Can you call me back when you get a chance?"

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

As much as I want to shut myself away from the world, to just fall asleep amongst my warm, comforting pillows, I am still in school. I want to do well in school. I don't want to let my other group mate's down. So, tamping down all the anxiety coursing through my veins, I click to return Hannah's call.

"Hey!" Hannah says, picking up after the first ring. "I just had a few quick questions. I hope you don't mind, just wanted to get it settled before we meet tomorrow. We all know how long it can take to do group project stuff in person."

"Yeah." I force a chuckle.

Hannah rattles off her questions, while I fumble for an answer. While she's talking, I quickly try to search up the answer, proving much harder than I would've anticipated. After twenty minutes, though, Hannah seems to have figured out what she was confused about.

"A-are you okay?" Hannah asks. "You seem a bit frazzled."

"Sorry," I say. I sigh, pinching my nose. "It just hit me again tonight. You know, what happened."

"I get you. It kind of happens to me, too. I just get this overwhelming sadness and miss Evan. He was such a chill, cool dude all the time. It was like nothing phased him."

Such a wildly different description from what Brian said just a few hours earlier.

"Did... did he ever seem kind of wild or, I don't know, aggressive?"

"No, never!" Hannah asserts. "He would never hurt anyone, especially not himself." I cringe at the sureness in her voice. Okay, wrong thing to ask.

"Do the police thing it was a suicide?"

"I don't know what they think," Hannah sighs. "There was no suicide note found to my recollection, but they asked a lot of questions about whether or not he seemed suicidal or was depressed."

"And he never acted in a strange way?"

"Like I said, the only strange thing about him was that he was so chill all the time. He just has this charisma about him, you know?"

Something strikes me at that moment.

"Did you ever tell anyone else about the dating app?" I ask. "Or think about using it yourself?"

There's a pause on the other side of the line. "I don't think so. Why?"

Maybe I'm pushing things too far, but I have a hunch. "Did you ever, uh, like him?"

"Huh?"

"You know, like him. Want to date him."

Hannah laughs a high-pitched laugh. "Oh, no. We were just friends. Good friends, but still friends."

I smile to myself. I may have stumbled onto a new lead.

"So, do you typically do a lot on Friday nights?" I ask.

"Not really. I mean, I pretty much have been studying every single weekend since the incident."

"What about the week of the incident?"

"It was actually my mom's birthday that weekend." Hannah sniffs on the other end of the phone. "We had so much fun celebrating. I stopped off to buy a card and some flowers for her before heading to her surprise birthday party at school."

I remember her mentioning something about a party when we talked before, but didn't know the specifics.

"Oh really? Which store?"

"Dollar Corner. Us students have to cut where we can."

A solid alibi to check out during Evan's death. The only question is how to verify it. Would she have paid in cash or using a credit card?

"Well, I hope you feel better soon," Hannah says. "It was good talking to you."

"Yeah, you too."

"See you tomorrow. The arboretum from ten to twelve."

"See you then."

As I hang up the phone, an idea forms in my head, something I didn't quite see before.

Perhaps Evan was illicitly taking xanax. That could explain why he was always so easy-going. Hannah revealed a lot I hadn't seen before, both about Evan and her relationship with him. Or perhaps more likely, the relationship she wished she had with him.

I've got to tell Zoe. I pull out my phone, dialing her number. My eyes drift to the time. It's almost eight at night, but it's fine. It probably won't take too long to finish my assignment... okay, maybe that's just wishful thinking.

"What's up?" It sounds like Zoe is crunching on chips on the other side of the phone as she talks.

"I have some developments to share. I just spoke to Hannah again, and we have three new leads."

"In what departments?"

"Motives, clues, and alibis."