***A/N: Y'all, I just finished up the last finals week of my undergrad. It's been a wild ride, college :)

How are you all doing?***

***(PIXAL's POV)***

"And then my father asked, 'So what's the name of the play Romeo and Juliet are in again?'" I manage between chuckles, one hand clutching my stomach in levity.

Zane guffaws beside me. "Really?"

After an entire lunch period spent discussing classic literature, Zane offered to walk with me to class while I finished telling him about my father's lack of interest in the arts. My dad always pays rapt attention when I mention the books I'm reading, but I think it's hard for him to follow those conversations.

"Yes!" I laugh. "In his defense, though, I can't say he has much time for the classics. He's usually busy at work or spending time with me."

Zane smiles, his icy blue eyes twinkling. "My own father isn't much for classic works, so I understand it." He shakes his head. "I think he knows how Romeo and Juliet is titled, though, so perhaps he's one step ahead of your father."

"Maybe," I grin. "Do you spend a lot of time with your dad?"

He nods. "I typically spend my evenings with him. We work on projects together – woodworking, building, and the like."

"My dad and I do the same!" I exclaim. "But usually, we work together on a programming project. Or we'll go see a movie or something."

"You like to program?" Zane asks, curious.

"It's something I've worked on since I was a child," I shrug. "It's more a way to connect with my father than anything. I prefer reading and writing, if I'm being honest."

"What do you write?"

I shove my hands in my pockets. "Not much, really. Especially lately – I feel like I have writer's block whenever I sit down to work on something, and I end up writing a few words only to delete them moments later." It's not that what I write is bad; it's just not good, either.

"I understand." Zane clears his throat. "So I assume your name is PIXAL because your dad is the technology type? With what you said about programming and all."

I laugh. "You'd be surprised how few people ask about my name. I mean, it's already an unusual word, and it's spelled with all capital letters."

Zane chuckles. "Wow, all capital letters?"

I nod, my cheeks flushed and my spirit soaring. "But to answer your question, yes, that's why I'm named PIXAL. I used to hate it, but now, I think it's actually kind of cute."

"I like it," Zane offers. Then he stops abruptly. "Um, is this your classroom?"

I look up and blush when I realize we're standing at the door. "Oh, yeah. Thank you for walking with me."

He smiles. "It was truly a pleasure, PIXAL. I enjoyed our conversation today." And he tosses me a wave before heading down the hall back the way we came.

I try to hide the stupid grin on my face and open the door to my classroom, spotting a free seat by Skylor to my left. The two of us have partnered together for physics labs since getting settled into classes here at Ridgewood, so I immediately gravitate toward her.

"How was your lunch?" I ask, sitting down beside her.

She quirks an eyebrow. "I was sitting at your table, you know."

I blink. "Oh, I" – had no idea – "guess you were."

But then she smiles a little. "The food was fine. I had to deal with Kai Smith for the first half of the lunch period, but other than that, I guess it was okay." She rolls her eyes. "I cannot stand that boy."

I nod, unsure of how to respond to that.

"All right, everyone," our physics instructor Mrs. Carmichael begins. "Get out your lab handouts from yesterday and review the instructions. I'm going to pass materials out to each of you, and then you'll spend the rest of the period..."

My eyes drift to the window, and I play with one of my golden hoop earrings. Ever since seeing Zane on that dating app, I've been interested in talking with him and figuring out his story. However, when I tried to talk with him Monday and Tuesday at lunch, I couldn't think of anything to say. It's safe to assume that all my friends are much better at conversing with guys than I am – I can do small talk, but after that, I'm lost.

Today, however, Zane came to lunch carrying a copy of Tales of Canterbrick from his Brickish literature class. I asked about it, and before I knew what was happening, the lunch period was over and I'd barely touched my soup.

I knew Zane was cute on that dating app. I just didn't know he could talk literature and the arts as well as any romance novel-worthy hero.

"Hello, PIXAL?" Skylor waves a hand in front of my face, and I blink.

"I'm sorry?" I ask.

She holds up a bag of marbles. "We're supposed to be testing velocity and angle measure and other physics words you're much better at defining than I am." Her lips twitch upward, and she shoots me a knowing look.

My cheeks flush pink. Caught red-handed. "I...was hypothesizing which angles would cause a marble to roll down a wooden board faster." I grab one of the wooden boards our teacher must've handed out to us. "Let's get started. Any hypotheses you'd like to write down?"

"I hypothesize that you're thinking about –,"

"Hey, didn't you mention wanting to have a party sometime soon?" I ask, scribbling down something illegible on my lab report.

Skylor rolls her eyebrows at my change of subject. "Okay, we seriously need to work on your avoidance tactics. You are so easy to read." She smiles. "I won't push it, though. So yes, I would love to plan a fun hangout with you girls before...before I change schools, I guess."

Compassion rises in me at her sober expression. I feel like I've only seen Skylor angry lately, and it kind of makes me forget that there's a reason she's acting out so much. She's got a lot on her plate.

"You're meeting your dad's fiancée this weekend, right?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Yeah, I guess. Her name's Yvonne or something." She grabs the bag of marbles and opens it. "I can't believe he didn't tell me about her for months."

I bite my lip. "If my father did something like that...I don't know how I'd forgive him."

"But your father wouldn't do something like that," Skylor points out. "Looking at my dad's track history, I should've expected something like this to happen. Or maybe I did expect something like this to happen, just...not while I was still living with him, anyway."

I nod and get out my protractor. "How long will you stay at Yvonne's?"

"Friday night until Sunday afternoon," she replies. "Which means I need to get this lab report done now so I can spend the weekend gathering reasons why my dad shouldn't marry her."

I laugh a little, but the idea of Skylor thwarting her dad's future marriage doesn't sit right with me. "I know you're upset, and you have a right to be, but maybe you should try giving Yvonne a chance first. Of course, if you find valid concerns about your dad marrying her, you should bring them up, but you may turn out to like her."

Skylor snorts. "I've already made up my mind not to like her. I hope she turns out to be some snotty woman who decides she doesn't want me around so my dad will let me live in Ninjago City with you guys."

I wrinkle my forehead. "But your father won't want to live away from you, Skylor. And it's not a great idea to live alone, either."

"I'm eighteen," she points out. "I'm old enough to rent an apartment. Besides, I'm sure I can get my dad to pay for it. Or I could live with one of you guys. Maybe I could stay at Nya's and make her brother's life miserable."

Yeah, no one needs that to happen. "You'd always be welcome to stay with me and my dad," I offer. "But really, Skylor, I think you should get to know Yvonne. She might surprise you."

"She probably only wants to marry my dad for the money," she argues. "But anyway, I'm done talking about this." She lays the board flat across the table. "So Harumi and I have been planning this party together, and we think next weekend would work well."

I nod. "I think my dad's away that weekend."

"Any chance we could use your house?" Skylor asks. "I would offer mine, but I don't exactly enjoy being around my dad right now."

"I don't know," I frown. "We're actually having part of the place remodeled right now, so our space is limited."

Skylor sighs. "And we can't use Harumi's place – something about her parents. I guess I could ask Seliel or Nya."

"I don't know that having a party at Nya's with her brother around is the best idea," I say tactfully.

She shrugs. "He can stay at the Garmadons' place that night or something."

"Maybe." I clear my throat. "Anyway, if we want to finish this lab by the end of class, we should probably get started."

Skylor acquiesces, and we begin the procedures.

But all I can think about is what kind of trouble Skylor's going to get herself into next.

***(Jay's POV)***

"Good job today," my teammate Griffin congratulates once we finish soccer practice.

"Thanks," I smile, still running on the high of soccer practice this afternoon. I'm not big into exercise, but I have to admit that running after a ball for forty-five minutes does give me something else to focus on besides the issues of life.

Like conducting interviews with Nya Smith this afternoon.

Anxiety clutches my chest, and I grab my things out of my locker and head for the showers.

"You're moving fast," Griffin laughs, catching up behind me. "All good?"

"I'm just...a little frustrated," I sigh, finding the first empty shower stall and jerking on the water.

"Frustrated about what?" Griffin grabs the stall next to mine.

I strip off my jersey. "I'm frustrated with myself," I admit. "I feel like I haven't been dealing with the whole situation with Kai and his sister well." Griffin and I have been on the soccer team together since sophomore year, so he knows I'm close to Kai and the rest of the guys. And who doesn't know about the whole Kai-sister fiasco at this point?

"Oh, yeah, that Nya girl," Griffin replies. "She just joined the journalism club, actually. Seems pretty cool." His voice is muffled as he turns on his own shower water. "Boss isn't a huge fan of her, though."

"Huh?" I ask, rubbing my fingers through my curly hair. The cool shower water does nothing to ease my nerves.

"Scott, the student leader of the journalism club, gave her a bunch of extra editing to do to 'prove herself' to the club," Griffin fills me in. "She turned in a bunch of edits today, though, and they looked great. She went beyond correcting grammar errors and stuff, and she actually provided some really helpful style tips. I have a feeling that whatever Scott gives her in busy work, she'll rise up to the challenge."

"Why doesn't he like her?" I frown. Maybe there's a reason Kai wanted to keep her a secret all these years.

"Dunno, man," Griffin replies. "He's pretty possessive of the journalism club, I guess. And if he thinks she's anything like that Skylor chick, no wonder he doesn't want her to stick around. He probably thinks she'll just make up a bunch of rumors about Ridgewood and pass them off as news."

"Sounds kind of closed-minded to me," I remark, shutting off the water and reaching for my towel. "He doesn't know anything about her personally."

"Well, it is Graceton," Griffin chuckles. "I think Nya's an exception, but honestly, those girls are looking for trouble."

"Oh, uh, I guess," I answer, not really sure how to respond to that. Dang, the anti-Graceton sentiments run deep around here.

"Anyway," he goes on, "I hope you get things worked out with Nya and Kai. Have a little faith in yourself, okay?"

I slip on some sweatpants and a hoodie, rolling up the sleeves as I do. "Thanks, Griffin. I appreciate it." With a quick check of my watch – 3:23 p.m. – I grab my things and head out. The last thing I need to do is make things with Nya even worse by showing up late to pick her up.

My cheeks grow hot as I recount the events from earlier. Not only could I hardly talk to her, but I just had to spew brownie chunks at her. And then I publicly exclaimed that I needed to use the restroom and spent the rest of the lunch period holed up in there, trying to recover from my embarrassment. The only reason I'm not starving from not finishing my lunch is that Lloyd gave me an energy bar during fifth period.

And what was that whole Cole-Seliel eye contact thing-y at lunch today? I get that I probably overreacted, but I think I recognize when my best friend has the kindling of a crush. And he didn't tell me? I feel like nobody's communicating these days.

It's not like you've apologized to Kai or Nya yet, so maybe don't point fingers.

I burst into the parking lot and inhale a huge breath, the warm air doing nothing to soothe my frustration. I whip my phone out of my pocket and dial Cole's number, pressing the device to my ear. I unlock my truck from across the parking lot.

The phone beeps. "Hey! It's Cole. Sorry I missed your call, but I'll get back to you as soon as I can. You can leave a text or a voicemail..."

I sigh and wait until his automatic response finishes. I forgot that Kai and Cole had an extra long soccer practice today.

"Hey Cole," I begin my message, "it's Jay. Do you mind giving me a call later this evening? I have work tonight, and I think I'm going to be running interviews until then, but I'd like to talk to you about something." Some of the frustration leaves my voice. "And...thanks for telling me to apologize to Kai and Nya earlier. I needed that." I clear my throat. "Okay, bye." I hang up, but I still have one more person to call.

I tap his contact, but as expected, I get his voicemail as well.

"Hey, Kai," I greet. "It's Jay. Uh...just wanted to say that...well, first of all, Lloyd asked if I would drive your sister around and conduct interviews with Graceton bombing witnesses today. I thought you should know that." And please don't hate me for spending time with Nya. "Also...I needed to tell you that I'm sorry. For, um, not talking to you for the past week. I want to talk to you in person later, but I'm sorry for my part, and I forgive you for not telling us you had a sister. I'm sure you had your reasons." I throw my soccer gear in the back of my truck. "Anyway, that's it. Talk to you later." Hopefully.

I end that call and open the front door of my truck. I'll be a few minutes late to pick up Nya, but I don't have her phone number, so I can't tell her that.

On the way to TTV Studios, I can't help but drum my hands on the steering wheel in nervousness. I rehearse the apology I'm giving to Nya over and over in my head. Hi, Nya. How was your internship? Hey, I needed to tell you that...well, first of all, I'm sorry I dumped you in that empty classroom in Ridgewood a week ago. I was upset with Kai. And second, I'm sorry I coughed up brownie at you today. Also, when I ran off to the bathroom and didn't come back, I didn't have a bad case of the runs. I was just really embarrassed.

Yeah, that seems like oversharing. Maybe I need to go with something different.

I don't have much time to think, though, because I find myself pulling into the parking lot of TTV Studios.

Gulp.

I spot Nya at the entrance, and I smile and wave at her. She waves as well, her posture relaxing.

Well, that's a good start.

I pull up next to her and unlock my truck. She opens the door.

"Hey," she greets.

"Hi," I reply. "Uh, how was your internship?" That sounds right. You've got this apology thing in the bag, Jay.

"It was good," she answers, settling into her seat and closing the truck door. "I intern with Gail Gossip, and she basically evaluates pieces I've written for journalism and gives me pointers."

"Oh, cool," I chuckle awkwardly, my throat tightening as I think about the looming conversation before me. "Um...what article did you work on today?"

"It was one I wrote a month ago about summer coming to a close and Graceton festivities that were supposed to happen the first few weeks of school." She hitches a shoulder. "Those were a bust, though, so I never needed the article."

"Oh, gotcha." I clear my throat. "Listen, Nya...I...um..." I trail off awkwardly, pulling to the edge of the parking lot and preparing to turn in the direction of Graceton.

I dart a quick look at her to see her waiting expectantly, and I gulp and go back to watching for oncoming traffic.

I try to form words. "I, uh, need to tell you that..." I gather all my strength and just spill my heart out. "Look, I'm sorry I left you in that classroom at Ridgewood alone last week! Lloyd accidentally revealed that Kai was your brother, and I just felt so deceived in Kai because he kept you a secret and treated you so badly, and I was wrong to make you stay in there alone and possibly reveal your position to Kai by opening the door. And I'm also sorry for not talking to you at lunch this week, but it's been so awkward because I don't know what to do with you and Kai. And I was a jerk to you both." My mouth can't stop moving. "And I'm also sorry for spewing brownie on you at lunch today, but I was really surprised by something, and I started choking, and then I was so embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom, but it was just to hide the fact that I wanted to die of humiliation because –,"

Nya quietly clears her throat, and I freeze mid-run-on sentence.

"Jay," Nya says calmly. "It's okay. I didn't hold any of that against you."

I blink and take a quick glance at her. "Really?"

She bites her lip. "Really. Especially the part about the brownie."

I slowly break into a smile, my gaze refocusing on the road. "Okay. Um, thanks." I clear my throat. "Cool." I finally pull onto the main road.

"Would you like to hear what I prepared for interviews this afternoon? I only had about fifteen minutes to spare, but I think I have an idea of where to start."

"Blow me away," I bid her.

"Okay." She opens her backpack beside her. "First off, let's go over what we know about the Graceton bombing. The bomb was sufficiently strong to blow up the right wing. I found out from a few news reports that the bomb was probably constructed by the perpetrator or an accomplice. The construction wasn't professional, but obviously, whoever made it had a thorough knowledge of explosives for it to be so powerful."

I consider this. "So determining if suspects had some kind of a background in explosive-y type stuff could be important."

I hear the smile in her voice even though it doesn't show on her face. "I agree, so I think we should ask about job history and maybe involvement in various organizations. But it's also possible that whoever created the bomb just spent a lot of time on the Internet."

"Oh." My expression falls. "Wow, this is going to be harder than I thought."

She shrugs. "Yeah, it'll be difficult, but I'm relentless. Either the police will figure this out, or I will."

I furrow my forehead. "Aren't there laws about not interfering with police investigations and stuff? Not that your intention is to interfere, but you might accidentally do that by investigating on your own."

"I'm just asking questions and searching for a trail," Nya points out. "Anyway, let's get back to what we know about the bombing. The bomb was apparently timed, though for how long I'm not sure. And I don't know how to get that information, either. But we do know that the bomb was set in the Graceton library, and students were using it all throughout the school day. I would assume that the bomb was either set at the end of the school day or after, and we know it had to be set at least fifteen to twenty minutes before it went off. That would give the perpetrator time to get in and out of the building and put some distance between themselves and the explosion."

"Do we know how this guy even got in the building?"

"Or girl," Nya suggests. "I managed to find one news report that mentioned that the perpetrator likely entered through one of the school entrances, since Graceton's alarms weren't set off. Whoever it was must've either known the security code or had a key card." She rubs her temple. "Unless it was a student at Graceton, since she could've just set the bomb discreetly before leaving school for the day."

"Wow," I frown. "Okay. Who at Graceton might have a key card or know the security codes?"

"All staff employed inside the school have a key card," Nya explains. "That means teachers, counselors, janitors...you get it. But unless it was one of the staff or a student already there who blew up the school building, I think it's more likely that one of the security codes was used. Only Principal Misako knows whom she's given security codes, but those people could share those codes with anyone once they knew them."

"At least that narrows the list of suspects a bit," I agree. "Maybe we could narrow the time window someone could've gotten in the school by finding out who the last staff member was in the building last Monday. They might've seen or heard something."

"True," she notes. "I could probably ask Principal Misako to get that information for me."

"So what do we want to figure out from these witnesses?" I ask.

"This is just scoping out the waters. Whatever information we can't get about the bombing from news footage and reports, we might be able to get it from witnesses. Who did these people see? What did they hear? Whom do they think could've committed this crime?"

I nod. "So what do you want me to do?"

"I've assessed your unique qualities, and after much deliberation, I think you'd be perfect for spewing brownie chunks at possible suspects who won't tell us what we want to know." She deadpans the words, and it takes me a full five seconds to process what she just said.

Laughter bubbles out of me, and I furrow my forehead. "Wow, you really went there?"

"Couldn't help it." Her cheeks glow bright red. "But in all seriousness, just come and ask questions. No one we're talking to is necessarily a suspect, but most of them know things we don't about the bombing. Ask any questions you can think of to get a clearer picture of the incident."

I release a slow breath, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. "So chances are, we're not interviewing the perpetrator today?"

"Probably not," Nya agrees. "These are people who've offered to let us interview them and who generally enjoy having Graceton in the neighborhood." She glances down at her phone. "I think the green house up ahead is our first witness."

I glance over. "Oh, I didn't know you were mapping me. I know the way to Graceton, so I figured I could just look at house numbers to figure out who lives where."

She shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly. "I usually use maps when it's not me driving. Just a precaution."

I nod. "So...who is our first witness?"'

"His name is Coach Craig Everton – he's the guy Lloyd talked to during detention on Monday. After that, we'll visit Marjorie Buttersworth, and then we'll interview Nelson Melview. He goes to Ridgewood."

"Oh, Nelson? He's in the engineering club," I pipe up.

"He had a few friends over the night of the bombing," Nya fills me in. "Some of them may have been awake at the time of the bombing. Our goal is to figure out who those friends were and whether he or any of them may have seen something."

I nod, pulling into Craig's driveway. "It sounds like it isn't the first time you've done this detective-y stuff."

She unlocks her door. "When I was in middle school, I had a business where I'd track down people's lost stuff. The whole journalism thing grew from there."

I smile at the thought and turn off the truck. "What kind of stuff did you track down? Missing teddy bears, house keys, pets?"

I hop out of the vehicle, and Nya joins me at my side. "Sometimes," she agrees. "I also had to track down the occasional cheating middle school boyfriend. Actually, come to think of it, my seventh-grade English teacher hired me to find her a plain old boyfriend one time."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Oh?"

Nya lets out a short chuckle. "I'm mostly kidding. She joked about it with me a few times, but that was just her personality. You have to be a little crazy if you want to teach middle school, I guess."

We approach Craig's door, and I look over to Nya, following her direction. She stands up a bit straighter and knocks twice.

"You can come in," Craig calls from somewhere inside.

Nya twists the knob and walks inside. I trail behind her.

I'm met with the unmistakable smell of a single thirty-year-old man's home. There's a tinge of stinky socks, an overwhelming scent of air freshener, and just a hint of last night's dinner. The walls are plastered with photos of famous sports stars – particularly basketball players – and an "employee of the year" award from Felix's Flea Market.

Overall, the place is a bit untidy, but homey.

Coach Craig rounds a corner and smiles at us sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry that the place is a bit messy. You guys want a glass of water or something? Fruit punch?"

I'm about to take him up on the fruit punch when Nya shakes her head. "I think I'll pass. Jay?"

Why didn't she accept? Is there some kind of interview etiquette rule I'm not getting here?

I cast a longing look at the fridge and answer, "I'm fine, but thanks."

He nods curtly. "All right, then. I guess we can meet up in the living room, then."

We follow him back around the corner he originally came from, and I see a couch that's at least fifteen years old in the surrounding living room. Beside it is an armchair that's missing a leg.

"Have a seat." He gestures toward the couch, taking the teetering armchair for himself. It makes a comforting creak noise as he sits.

Nya gingerly perches on the edge of the couch. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Mr. Everton. I know the police have already talked with you."

He nods. "Yeah. They've cleared me as a suspect as far as I know, but I guess Graceton wants a student perspective on the bombing or whatever." His eyes land on a half-eaten slice of pizza on the floor, and he tries to discreetly push it under the armchair with a foot.

Nya nods. "I work with the Ridgewood journalism club, but I formerly worked with Graceton's newsletter. I'm hoping I can write an article on the bombing."

"Gotcha." Craig's eyes flit to me. "And what are you doing here?"

"I..." I scramble for words. I'm here to give Nya a ride and make sure she's not alone with middle-aged men in their living rooms. "I was asked to come for the interviews by Ridgewood leadership."

He yawns. "I get it." He then turns back to Nya. "Ask me whatever you want."

Nya flips open a notebook. "Okay. Starting out, we know you were hosting a back-to-school party for the track team the evening of the bombing. Where was the party held?"

"The school," Mr. Everton shrugs.

Nya scribbles this down. "And what time did you get back home?"

"I got in around 12:45," he explains. "I got left cleaning up the party alone. Parents these days." He rolls his eyes. "And then the bomb went off somewhere around half an hour later. I heard it from my living room since I'd fallen asleep on the couch."

"Did you notice any suspicious activity in the neighborhood?" Nya asks.

Coach Everton rolls his eyes. "No. I left, and everything seemed normal. I got back, and everything seemed normal."

"What did you do after the bomb went off?" she tries.

"I turned on the outside lights, went to the window, and saw smoke coming from Graceton across the street. I also heard the school's fire alarm, so I called the police."

"Did you check out the building afterward?" I ask.

He narrows his eyes at me. "Do I look like an idiot to you? I didn't check that place out. What if there'd been another bomb set?"

Nya asks him a few more questions, but he shoots them down with unhelpful answers. He doesn't know of anyone who would try to bomb Graceton and he didn't hear any strange noises before the bomb went off.

"Last thing," Nya says. "Is there anyone who can confirm you finished cleaning up the party around 12:30?"

His jaw twitches. "No. Now I don't think I can help you with anything else, so don't waste your time with any other questions. You might as well go talk to someone else."

Nya smiles and rises. "Thanks for your help."

"Whatever."

I stand up and follow her out of the house, not waiting for Craig to escort us.

As soon as we're out in the driveway, I muse, "Well, he seems friendly."

"We need to figure out what time he left the school that night," she sighs. "He has no one to confirm his alibi, which means he could be hiding something."

My eyes widen. "You mean...he could be the bomber?"

"I don't think so," Nya replies. "I mean, maybe, but I didn't get the feeling that he bombed a school."

I consider this. "I mean, after seeing his house, he did give off more toilet bomber vibes than regular bomber ones." The words slip past my lips before I realize what I said, and I inhale sharply, jerking to see her reaction.

She stares at me, a bit puzzled. "What do you mean by –,"

"Uh, toilet bomber as in, like, a constipated person who drops a poop bomb in the potty bowl." I blush. "Erm, the toilet bowl, I mean. Like, he might stink up his bathroom." Why do I always make poop jokes around her? She probably thinks I'm obsessed with sewage!

Nya studies me for a moment before finally speaking. "Okay, so let's go interview Marjorie next."

"Yeah," I swallow. "Um, good idea."