"Wait. I- you- I don't- that doesn't-" Vera stuttered. "What?!"

I had somehow managed to get a miserable and crying Vera halfway across the school, into my car, and my room without having her jumping out the window in guilt or cutting my head off in frustration.

To say I feel accomplished would be an understatement.

So now she was pacing around my room like a very confused Bambi. Like, literally Bambi. She ran into the bookshelf four times. And then tripped over the chair. And then nearly slammed my head against the desk after she fell on top of me because she tripped over the rug.

I don't think she should be legally allowed to walk anymore. Or drive. How did this girl ever get her driver's license?

Not to mention she's, rightfully, cuddling with the giant stuffed Bambi toy that my sister got when she was five. But that's not the point.

She's also ruining my carpet with her heels. That's not the point either.

"Ok," she said, after finally managing to get a hold of her words. "So you're saying that you actually killed Jason."

"Yeah."

"That he didn't die when I pushed him."

"Yep."

"But instead he died when you pushed him."

"Yeah."

"Wait, let me get this straight. You and Julia were hanging out and climbing trees, for some strange reason, in the woods while I was walking home on Lakeside Path. And then I accidentally pushed Jason off the bridge and screamed and you guys heard me and decided to follow my voice. Somehow, Jason survived the fall and you guys found him when he was still alive and breathing at the bottom of the bridge. And then you argue and accidentally pushed him, so he fell down into the ditch at the bottom of the bridge while I was still trying to find my away around the bridge and down to the ditch. Then you guys heard me coming and left. And you didn't even realize it was me until I found Jason dead," Vera summed up. "Right?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. I had to admit, it was hard for me to process too. I never heard Vera's side of the story and the fact that she pushed him off the bridge and thought she killed him was a lot to handle.

"That's why Julia confessed, isn't it?" Vera asked. "Because she was trying to defend you."

I nodded.

She plopped down into the bed next to me, thankfully not falling on top of me again and butchering my face with my own desk.

Vera ran her hands through her long, brown silky hair. "This is so, crazy."

"Yeah, it is."

"I didn't take off my heels yet."

"What?"

"My heels," Vera clarified as she shoved the heels off her feet, "It's crazy that I didn't take them off yet. What was I thinking?"

"I... um... I don't know?"

"You're right. I probably wasn't even thinking."

"Um... You're welcome?"

"I decided to put mascara on when I knew I was mentally traumatized. So stupid."

"Okay?"

"Maybe it was just because a break down just looks cooler with mascara on?"

"Sure?"

"God I sound evil. And suicidal."

"You do?"

"Who would ever classify their own mental breakdown as cool?"

"No one?"

"Only Vera Reinhart, the crazy girl who wears heels for an absurd amount of time when she doesn't need to."

"Oh?"

"I'm so weird."

"I guess?"

I'm so confused.

It's nice to know she was talking like how she normally did. Jason always talked as confusing as possible too. Maybe she got it from him? I couldn't be too sure since I couldn't remember a time when Vera wasn't a confusing talker.

And it wasn't necessarily that she jumped from one thing to another but more like she has a two-sided conversation in her head. It was like she had her own friend in there, talking back to her. Half the time I could tap her shoulder and she would turn or looked surprised and I knew that she had disappeared to the back of her mind for the past thirty minutes. I don't even think she knows she does it.

But these past few days, she had been more attentive, more on edge. I guess now I know why.

"This whole thing with Jason is so hard to digest," Vera sighed and collapsed back onto the bed.

"Yeah," I said and then a thought erupted in my mind. "Wait, if you called the police, why did you run?"

Vera turned to me, sitting up, eyebrows furrowed. "I never called the police."

"But Julia and I never called the police," I wondered out loud. "If it wasn't any of us, then who did?"

Vera's eyes lit up, "There's someone else who knows about Jason's death. At least they think that I killed him."

I sat up too." What are you talking about? Who?"

Vera grabbed her hand purse and rifled through it, "I'm not sure exactly, some random person. They never said their name, but it was signed under an alias: Secret Keeper."

My blood ran cold. "Secret Keeper?"

Vera nodded, "Yeah. He or she kept sending me these letters about Jason's death."

Vera took them out of her purse and handed four red cards to me. They were smooth and sturdy. Golden letters scripted the inside with delicate swirls. It was pristine and sophisticated. And very much familiar.

All except for one.

"No way," I breathed.

Vera furrowed her eyebrows. "Do you know who it is?"

"No," I said. "I don't. But I've been getting letters from this Secret Keeper person too. They were mostly warning me and threatening me to keep my mouth shut."

"Secret Keeper's been doing that to me too. Except for this one," Vera rifled through the cards and pointed at one. "This one asked me to get information on you guys."

I skimmed through the card and look back at her, "Did you?"

Vera bit her lip. "No. I didn't even find anything to begin with."

"That's why you were going through everything in the Family Hall. You were trying to find dirt."

"Yeah..." Vera averted her gaze before sitting up straight again. "Wait, how did you know about that?"

"I got paranoid that you knew what really happened and were trying to do something about it," I explained. "You were acting pretty weird. So I checked the cameras."

Vera sighed, "So this person knows the whole story, since he or she clearly sent letters to you, but was just using their knowledge to blackmail us and even let me think that I killed him."

"Yeah."

"Why? What do they want?"

"I don't know," I admitted. I skimmed through all of the cards. "Mine and yours were written by the same person. They all match... except for this one."

My hands stopped at one card, my fingers running over the rough exterior. I unfolded it.

"What do you mean different?"

"The card is a slightly different shade, the texture feels different, the handwriting's slightly off..." My words trailed off as the gears in my head clicked into place. I looked up at Vera, her chocolate brown eyes staring back at me expectantly.

Shit.

I can't tell her.

But I have to tell her. She deserves to know.

But it will break her. And that'll break me.

I should at least make sure I'm right before I tell her anything. I can't tell her something so devastating and come back from it.

"Um... Jordan?" Vera waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my train of thought.

"Oh, um, yeah," I stutter, trying to come up with a lie. "It's not that big of a deal. There are differences, but they're not big. Probably means nothing."

"Who do you think it is?" Vera asked.

I suppressed a sigh of relief.

She bought it.

For now.

"I don't know. No one we know would have any reason to blackmail us."

"We have to figure out who it is."

"Agreed."

"Maybe we can devise a trap or something..." Vera started, and I could see the gears in her brain turning.

I sighed, "We need to make a plan, but not now. You must be exhausted. You need to get rest and make sure you feel better, mentally. We both do."

"But it's late and you don't seem to be in the right state of mind to drive me anywhere, so..."

"You can stay in your guest room. You know you don't have to ask."

Vera nodded, "Thank you."

"No problem."

She stood and grabbed her heels and purse before turning back to me. She sighed and threw her arms around me, basking me in warmth. Her heels were digging into my back, but I didn't care. Her hair smelled of sandalwood, like always. I closed my eyes and placed my head on top of her's. Her hugs always felt safe, reassuring.

"It's not your fault," she whispered. "Jason's death wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

"I know."

She moved her head and looked up at me, chocolate brown eyes staring with more emotion than they should ever be allowed to hold. Her face was inches away and my stomach did not like that. Nor did my hands. Or my lips. Or just my everything in general.

Keep it together, Jordan.

"Don't do anything stupid, like I almost did," she told me.

"I won't," I reassured her, voice weakening to an almost inaudible squeak.

Vera leaned forward.

I gulped.

She placed a peck on my cheek.

My heart stopped.

She pulled away, taking her warmth and reassurance with her. My breathing steadied, heart beating again. My mind reconstructed itself from the pile of mush it had turned into.

Vera opened the door and paused, hesitating before turning around.

"Goodnight, Dandan noodles," she said, referring to the nickname that had used to make fun of me with when we were younger.

"Night, Vera Miles."

Vera closed the door behind her and her footsteps softly padded down the hall. I sighed, resuming my train of thoughts. I couldn't sit around and wait for answers anymore. I had to find them myself.

For me and Vera.

I pulled out my phone dialing in the number of the family PI, a number I knew all too well, calling too many times as I told myself that I was going to finally find out the truth. Every time I hung up, unable to go through. This time, I had to make the call. I had to complete it.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Mr. Kleizmick Jr." The other side greeted.

"Hey," I said. "I need you to do something for me."

"Of course," he said. "What do you need?"

I took a breath and spoke, hoping I wouldn't regret my decision.

"I need Vera Reinhart's medical history."

Dandan noodles: Dun-dun-dun. Don't forget to vote!