None of us were surprised when we were called down to an assembly the next day during class. I took a seat and looked around for any sign of the others, spotting Tyson, Farren, and Connor sitting together. I couldn't see the twins anywhere, but it was starting to get crowded.

                Once everyone was seated and quiet, Principal Devin stepped up to the microphone. "Another crime targeted one of our Braxton students. The police are currently investigating, but with the help of Mr. Mallory, the school will be conducting its own investigation. I'm asking all students to cooperate with us so we can keep you safe from these crimes. We'll be calling students down throughout the day to speak with them. Being called down does not mean you're in trouble, not by any means."

                Mallory stepped up next to him. "Our investigations are meant to keep the students of Braxton safe. Don't be nervous if you're called down. Just cooperate with us as we work towards protecting all of you."

                "Yes, of course," Principal Devin agreed. "Teachers, please excuse any students we call down and make sure they're caught up on anything they miss. Students, stay vigilant, and as always, report anything you know or see to the police."

                He went on to talk about safety and how to keep a look out for any suspicious activity. My gaze drifted to Tyson, who was watching Mallory. I could see the tense set to Tyson's shoulders and wondered what would happen if he was called down to speak with Mallory for the investigation.

                We were sent back to class and I tried to focus on my lessons as the time passed. I couldn't stop thinking about last night, about what I'd told Tyson.

                I never meant for anyone here to know what had happened back in my hometown. I'd tried to escape all of that and get a fresh start.

                No, that was wrong. I'd tried to escape the guilt, not the incident. How could I ever run from the fact that my best friend was dead? How could I ever betray him by burying his memory?

                "Nolan!"

                The voice snapped me out of my thought and I looked up at my teacher. She gestured to the door.

                "Please head to the office. Principal Devin would like to speak with you," she said. "I'll email you the notes you miss."

                I got up, grabbing my bag and forcing a smile. "And here I was hoping I'd have to stay in class and take notes for another half hour."

                I left the room, taking a deep breath to calm myself. There was no way to know I was involved in any of the revenge schemes. It had been happening long before I came to Braxton. Besides, they were just investigating. I doubted they had any suspects.

                The office door was shut, so I knocked on it and waited a moment before pushing it open. The secretary was typing on her computer, but she looked up at me.

                "I'm Nolan Fletcher. My teacher said Principal Devin wanted to speak with me," I said.

                "His office is right through that door. Knock and head in," she said, turning back to the computer.

                "Thank you," I said and went to the door. I knocked and let myself inside.

                "Nolan Fletcher, yes?" Principal Devin said as I shut the door behind me.

                "Yes, sir," I said. "You needed to speak with me?"

                "Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. Mallory was sitting next to Principal Devin, watching me with an easy smile as I sat down. He held his hand out to me across the desk.

                "Patrick Mallory," he said.

                I shook his hand. "Nolan Fletcher. Nice to meet you, sir."

                "Are you adjusting to the school well, Nolan? Your file said you moved here fairly recently to attend Braxton," Devin said.

                "Yes, sir. I know my way around, and I've made some friends," I said.

                "Fairly new, huh? Have you met my children? Simon and Carly Mallory," Mallory said.

                I shook my head. "I haven't met them, sorry."

                "Let's get down to business," Devin said. "Your advisor got special permission to put you in the Social Action Club. How has that been going for you?"

                "Fine," I said, forcing a calm smile. "We're planning a new project right now. Farren Corr and I were working together to come up with fundraising ideas for the project."

                "Yes, Tyson Strazio ran the project by me for approval," Devin said with a nod. "The club does amazing things for the community. But all the students in the club are pretty reserved kids. Have they been friendly towards you?"

                I nodded. "Absolutely." Okay, what a lie. "They were a little surprised when I first joined, but they're teaching me how they work and helping me find what I'm most useful at. I like working with people, so Farren and I sold tickets together at the bake sale, and Tyson and I sold candy bars together for another fundraiser."

                "Has anything about the club struck you as odd?" Mallory asked.

                "Odd?" I feigned confusion. "No. We just plan volunteer work during our meetings. I'm sorry, but I'm still new to the club. If you want details, Tyson is the president, so he could probably help you more than I could."

                "I've worked with Tyson for his projects throughout the years, and he's quite the charming young man," Devin said. "However, he doesn't seem to be particularly social when I see him around the school. What's he like?"

                I snuck a glance at Mallory, but his face was composed. Almost too carefully composed.

                "He can get a little impatient sometimes, but he's a good person," I said. "He even let me sleep over his house once so he could help me study."

                "And what about Talon Zigor?" Devin asked. "The only thing keeping him out of trouble around here has been his sister, from what I've heard."

                "He's...interesting," I said. Was it appropriate to tell Devin and Mallory that the first time I'd met Talon, he'd been stripping? "I did notice Nyssa reminds him to behave himself. But he's never done anything bad, at least not around me."

                "What about Connor Scully?" Mallory asked. "He's the tech genius, right?"

                "Right," Devin confirmed. "His mother develops technology and his father does cyber security. We had a few minor incidents with him when he first came here, but he hasn't caused problems in a while."

                "Connor's kind of quiet. I haven't talked to him much," I said. "I'm really sorry, but I'm telling you, Tyson is who you should be talking to. He knows the club and the members far better than I do. I'm still pretty new to it all."

                "No need for that," Mallory said. "We're just covering some basics in our investigation."

                "Has the Social Action Club ever done anything suspicious?" Devin asked.

                "Suspicious?" I furrowed my brow. "You think they're involved in this?"

                "No, no. Like I said, we're just covering basics," Mallory said with a reassuring smile. "We're asking members from all clubs these questions."

                "Well, the Social Action Club has never done anything suspicious," I said. "Like I said, we hold meetings about volunteer projects and that's about it."

                "What about Mr. Bishopp? He seems pretty active in the club. It's actually rare for the club advisors to be so involved. Usually they only show up to a few meetings to make sure the clubs are going well, but let the students handle things," Devin said.

                "I think Mr. Bishopp just worries about the stress of bigger projects. He offers to help Tyson a lot," I said. "He also helps with our projects, so he probably just wants the details. Our meetings are pretty short most of the time, anyways."

                "So nothing odd happens in that club?" Mallory said.

                "No, sir," I said.

                "Have you noticed anything suspicious around the school?" Devin said.

                "No. I only heard about this revenge service rumor after one of the incidents. Kids were whispering about it around the halls that day," I said. "It is just a rumor, right? I mean, clearly someone is targeting students. But a revenge service is...ridiculous."

                "We're looking into every possibility," Mallory assured. "Thank you for your cooperation, but I believe that's all we need from you for now."

                "I'm sorry I wasn't much help," I said, standing up.

                "Thank you for cooperating with us, Nolan," Devin said.

                I left the office and made my way back to class, thinking over my words as I sat in lectures. I think I pulled off sounding innocent. I couldn't think of anything I'd said that could even hint at the Social Action Club's involvement in the revenge schemes. If they questioned the others, our stories would match up.

                By the end of the day, I'd calmed myself down from the meeting with Devin and Mallory. I hadn't given away anything to incriminate us.

                I entered the Social Action room, where the others were clustered around Tyson. He looked up as I came in and gestured impatiently at me to shut the door.

                "It worked," he said once the door was shut and I had joined them. He turned his phone to me so I could see the article. "Tiffany's mom wrote a big article for her website about the social menaces terrorizing the town. She wrote about the victims and why we chose them, tying together a connection between them. Now they know we're targeting bullies, they know some of our victims and what made them targets, and she published a picture of our note to Mallory. Oh, I bet Mallory is pissed."

                "I was called in for questioning today," I said.

                "I hope you're at least a good liar," Farren said.

                I told them what I'd been asked and how I'd answered. Connor looked annoyed when I mentioned the questions about him.

                "You hack the school computers two freaking times and they never forgive you," he grumbled.

                "Don't forget that time they caught you with Jonesy in your bag," Nyssa reminded.

                "I was a freshman and they were harmless incidents," Connor said. "I just wanted to play online games during study hall. And get the grades for my math exam early."

                "And bring your rat to school," Talon said, snickering when Connor nudged his bag under his chair.

                "Hey, they were asking about you, too," Nyssa reminded her brother. "You're such a pain in the ass, Tal."

                "Nys, I have done nothing wrong," Talon said. "They've got nothing on me."

                "I bet he wants to shut it down," Tyson said, gripping his phone far too tightly. "Mallory just wants a reason to shut down the club. He doesn't like anything that takes attention away from him. His brats aren't part of the club and I bet that pisses him off. I bet it pisses him off even more that I founded and run the club." A sharp grin sliced his face. "Let him look for an excuse to shut us down. I won't give him one."

                "This is bad, though," Bishopp said, peeking at the article still up on Tyson's phone. "They're really going to be scrambling to catch us now."

                "Let them scramble," Tyson said with a shrug, locking his phone. "The bullying problem should start to simmer down now that the idiots around here know we're not messing around. We'll run our job against Dexter to keep up the momentum."

                "Don't get too overconfident," Bishopp warned. "I'll keep an ear out around the faculty and see if they have any rumors of suspects. I bet Devin and Mallory will stay tight-lipped about the investigation, though."

                "I'll coax some information out of my dad," Farren said.

                Tyson leaned back in his chair, looking darkly amused by this twist of things. "I wish I could've seen Mallory's face when he saw this article."

                "Mallory isn't the target," Farren reminded him sternly. "Stay focused on our real goal, Ty."

                "I'm always focused," Tyson said. "Everyone make sure your stories match the outcast's if you get called down."

                "What if they call you down, Ty?" Connor asked.

                "They won't," Tyson said. "You really think Mallory is going to call me down? He's too much of a coward for that."

                "He asked me if I knew his kids," I said.

                Talon laughed and Nyssa elbowed him roughly. She shook her head at me. "He always brags about those two."

                "Poor suckers got stuck with the world's shittiest man raising them," Tyson said.

                "What happened to focus?" Bishopp said. "I get that Mallory is trying to force his way into this situation, and we certainly shouldn't ignore that. But he's not our target."

                "Um...Mr. Bishopp, I don't mean to rude. But why do you go along with this?" I said.

                Bishopp smiled, but it was sad and tired. "I was a student here." He held up his hand, and I noticed that his thumb was at an odd angle. "I was heading for the top of the class, but a student was jealous and broke my hand three days before exams. He got away with it. I don't want that to keep happening. I wanted to be a teacher here to get the bullying problem under control, but it's not as easy as I thought it'd be. This...method, it works better than anything I could do on my own."

                "How truly sentimental," Tyson said. "We do have a façade to keep up, though. I've been working with the twins and Corr to get everything set up for our next big project, which will take place next weekend. Connor, print me out some flyers so we can secure volunteers. And don't worry outcast, Nyssa had me toss Drew on our banned list."

                "She did?" I said in surprise.

                "He was bullying you," Nyssa said with a shrug. 

                "Nyssa absorbed Talon's heart in the womb," Tyson said. "So Nyssa is that kind, caring human while her brother is a heartless asshole. Moving on."

                "Heartless asshole? Hold on a second!" Talon said.

                "Moving on," Tyson repeated. "Everyone clear your schedules for next weekend. You're going to smile big and work hard. I want pictures, I want videos, I want articles written on us, I want a little story on the local news. The Social Action Club teaming up with the police to serve the local community. I want us to overshadow Mallory's pathetic attempts at grabbing the spotlight for himself."

                "What about funding? This isn't a lot of time to pull together money," Connor said.

                "Covered. Farren has us set up to table off orders from that food catalogue everyone loves during lunch all next week, my parents are setting up raffles at their work places and the community center, and we established that online donation that we've been promoting. That already raised a bunch of money. I had Mr. Zigor give me a cost estimate for what we're doing and it's surprisingly less than I thought. All the volunteer help cuts the cost of using actual employees, which saves us a ton of money. We also set up a drop-off point for tools and materials at the police station, and people have been donating to that as well," Tyson said.

                Sometimes I forgot how well-organized Tyson could be. He always seemed so full of himself that it made me forget he was actually a careful planner and not just an egotistical idiot who thought everything would come together on its own.

                "Is there anything we can do to help?" I asked.

                Tyson shook his head. "Nys, Tal, your mom is running the raffle at work, right?"

                "Yea, she said she'll have the money for you," Nyssa said.

                "Don't bother giving the money to me. Make a record of it and put it towards what we need," Tyson said. "We'll wait a few days and then hit Dexter. I want Mallory up on his high horse so we can whack him off of it with our project."

                "Are we done here?" Connor asked, checking the time. "If you don't need our help, I want to go home and feed my dog."

                "Yea, get out of my sight," Tyson said. He was looking through some papers, not even looking up at us as he spoke.

                "We'll go talk with our dad. We'll call you tonight," Nyssa said, getting up. Connor was already heading out of the room, Talon following him and poking at his backpack. "Talon! Oh my god. Talon, cut it out!" Nyssa hurried out after them.

                "I'll also call you tonight, Ty. Once my dad gets home from work and I've talked to him about the project and their leads with this twist on revenge schemes," Farren said.

                "You do that," Tyson said. "I'll eagerly be awaiting your call. Will you even tell me what you're wearing?"

                Farren rolled his eyes. "Yea, I'll describe my sweatpants in great detail. See you."

                "Not you," Tyson said as I started getting up. "Sit back down. Bishopp, leave."

                "Are you sure you can handle all of this work? I'm here to help the club, Tyson," Bishopp said.

                Tyson finally looked up from his papers. "I can handle this. I am the son of a woman who learned to balance her massive amounts of work with her bratty little kid. Trust me, I know how to stay organized and on top of my work. So quit bothering me about it and get out."

                "He's trying to help," I said. "Don't snap at him."

                "This isn't me snapping," Tyson said.

                "Remember what your mom said about manners?" I said.

                Tyson blew out a sigh and slapped on his dazzling smile. "Mr. Bishopp, sir, please give me the room so I can speak with the outcast."

                "You're making me want to retire," Bishopp grumbled, grabbing his bag and leaving the room, shutting the door as he went.

                "Did Mallory say anything else to you?" Tyson asked.

                "I told you everything we talked about. Why wouldn't he call you in?" I asked. "It would make the most sense for them to question you, not me."

                "But you're their unknowing spy," Tyson said, stuffing his papers back in his bag. "You're the new guy, and the most likely to rat us out if something was going on. If I was hiding something, I clearly wouldn't let it slip to them."

                "I told them they'd have better luck talking to you and Mallory..." I shook my head. "He was too composed about it."

                Tyson's lip curled up a little. "Believe me, the man would love to see me dead. He doesn't like how successful I'm becoming so early."

                "Why would he want you dead? He's a man in a position of power, and you're just a high school kid running a Social Action Club," I said. "I don't understand." I ran a hand through my hair. "I shouldn't pry. I know that. I'm sorry. It just doesn't click in my mind."

                Tyson drummed his fingers on his desk. "We all want our revenge. You're getting revenge on the problem, not the people."

                I felt my face heating up a little. He was giving me an out. He wasn't asking me directly about last night, but he was bringing up the topic in a way that invited me to give him more information or shrug it off.

                I shoved my hands in my pockets. "His name was Dylan."

                "He's your motivation," Tyson said.

                "He was overweight. They mocked him and mocked him and mocked him. He'd cry in the bathroom stalls." I looked away, too ashamed to meet Tyson's eyes. "In gym, they'd take videos of him running and make fun of him. They'd dump his food on him during lunch and tell him he was big enough already."

                "And you stood by," Tyson said, but he didn't sound judgmental.

                "Not always. Sometimes I'd tell them to back off. But they'd go after me whenever I did, and I...I got scared." The shame in my voice was nothing compared to the shame in my heart. "I should've protected Dylan, but I didn't."

                "How did he die?" Tyson asked.

                "He started losing weight so they'd stop making fun of him. He was so desperate. He changed his whole diet and started going for runs and working out. I used to let him borrow one of my hoodies because the way it fit him made him look slimmer." He wanted to borrow my hoodie so they wouldn't say anything. Anything to catch a break for just a day, just one damn day where they didn't torture him. "It was cold one day, and he went for a run, just like he always did." My voice was hollow, my heart heavy. "He had asthma. They think the cold air and his strained health combined to trigger a bad asthma attack. No one found him until nearly an hour after he'd died on the path."

                "That's why you wanted to come here," Tyson said.

                I nodded slowly. "We were 15 when Dylan died. My family...they didn't know how to handle me. I didn't know how to handle myself. If I had just defended him, maybe he wouldn't have felt so pressured to change himself. I couldn't face his parents. I couldn't face myself." My vision blurred with tears. "He was just a 15 year old kid, dying on the ground of the path he took to please them. He was alone. Probably terrified. I left my hoodie on his grave before I left town."

                I looked up as Tyson put his hand on my shoulder. "You were 15 and scared. You didn't know. Blame yourself all you want, but you didn't know he was going to die."

                I smacked his hand off. "I should've stood up for him. If I'd been a better friend, a better person, he wouldn't have pushed himself so hard. They put those cruel words in his head, but I didn't take them out. He once told me that he wished people would think before they spoke, that people wouldn't judge others so hastily."

                Tyson sat on a desk. "We don't control other people, and we can't see the future. We don't know the consequences our actions or inactions will have. This club won't bring your best friend back from the grave. All it can do is help you move on." He shrugged. "Healing is up to you. I can give all the passionate speeches and words of wisdom I want, but at the end of the day, you're responsible for yourself and your own closure."

                I wiped an arm across my eyes. "I came here to start over and do better this time."

                "Then congratulations, you're already succeeding at both of those goals," Tyson said. "You can't change the past. You can only work towards the future."

                "We all have the weight of burdens," I mumbled, leaning against the desk he was sitting on. I put my hand down, the side of it resting lightly against his hand.

                "When something hurts you for long enough, you adjust and barely notice it anymore," Tyson said. "And all that weight you carry? It's just going to make you stronger."

                "He texted me right before he went on that run," I said. "I wish...I never replied. I didn't see the text until he was already gone. Those were his last words to me. And mine to him were that I'd see him the next day. Only I never got to see him again. He was supposed to come over after his run, but he never made it back."

                Tyson got up and tossed my bag at me. "Let's go."

                "Where?" I said.

                "My house," he said, heading out of the room.

                I followed him and we walked down to the parking lot together. I got in my car and followed Tyson back to his house, letting him lead me inside.

                We put our shoes in the closet and went into the kitchen, where his parents were throwing marshmallows at each other. His dad was trying to shield himself with a frying pan and his mom was crouched behind the counter, throwing handfuls of marshmallows at her husband.

                "Just a typical day in the Strazio household," Tyson said.

                Mrs. Strazio chucked a handful of marshmallows at him. "He started it. I was just trying to be a nice person and make us hot chocolate, and my mature husband started throwing marshmallows at me."

                Mr. Strazio laughed. "Do you remember back when Tyson was a baby? He was just learning how to crawl, and you put him on his blanket in the kitchen so you could make dinner. Little brat grabbed the bag of marshmallows from the groceries and crawled away with them."

                "You found him trying to eat the whole stupid bag in the bathroom," Mrs. Strazio said, throwing another handful of marshmallows at her son. "You had me worried me sick. You're lucky you didn't choke."

                "Should've been watching me," Tyson said with a shrug.

                "The apartment we lived in back then wasn't that big, I didn't think my baby was going to be able to hide and try to eat a bag of marshmallows while I made dinner," Mrs. Strazio said. She set the bag of marshmallows down and came over, putting her arm around Tyson's shoulders. "You stress me as a person."

                "You were going to let me eat a whole bag of marshmallows when I was a baby because you didn't think to look over at me," Tyson pointed out.

                "In our defense, we didn't know anything about babies," Mr. Strazio said. "I didn't think you could crawl that far without making some noise that let us know you were on the move."

                "Welcome to my life," Tyson said to me, gesturing to his parents. "These are the people that raised me. Somehow I survived 17 years."

                "We learned how to be parents," Mrs. Strazio said. She kissed his head and gave him a light shove. "Go do your homework. I won't feed you until it's done. Nolan, are you staying for dinner?"

                I looked to Tyson, who nodded. Mrs. Strazio knelt down to pick up marshmallows off the floor, Mr. Strazio copying her.

                "Then we'll make extra for you. But you have to have your homework done too," she said sternly.

                "Congratulations, now she feels comfortable enough to boss you around too," Tyson said, tugging me out of the kitchen.

                We went upstairs and into Tyson's room. He sat at his desk and I sat on his bed, both of us pulling out our homework.

                "Why did you bring me here?" I asked.

                "Don't play stupid," he said. "You know why I brought you here."

                "I think I'm starting to impress you," I said.

                "Something like that," he said, flipping open a textbook. "Shut up so I can do my homework."

                "Before you start your homework, what do you think will happen now that we've challenged Mallory?" I said. "The social menaces have directly challenged him."

                "The social menaces?" Tyson grinned a little. "We sound like some villainous group. I like it." He turned in his chair to face me. "He'll come at us and we'll be more cautious. That's all."

                I didn't like his confidence on this matter, though. Something in my gut told me it wasn't going to be that easy. Mallory would want to get us back for calling him out like that. And now we'd really brought the spotlight on ourselves. All eyes on us, the most dangerous situation for us to be in.

                "It'll be fine. Trust me," Tyson said, and I flashed back to that first job I'd joined them on, to Tyson telling me he'd come back for me, Tyson telling me to trust him. I'd trusted him then and he hadn't let me down.

                "I trust you," I said, nothing but honesty coating my words.

                He nodded in satisfaction and turned back to his homework. I looked down at mine, trying to focus on the words in front of me.

                It felt bittersweet to get the truth of Dylan off my chest. I hadn't meant to bring him up, but maybe it was better that I did. Tyson seemed to understand a lot more than I'd expected him to when I first met him. He was battling his own demons, and I couldn't let myself forget that.

                Maybe someday he'd trust me enough to help him carry the weight of his burdens. But that was his own personal struggle, and I'd just stand by him so he knew I was there if he needed me.

                Still, I couldn't shake the bad feeling in my gut. Something about the expression on Mallory's face when him and Principal Devin talked to me today. He was planning something, and if he was a man who could strike such a powerful grudge in Tyson Strazio, then I wasn't sure he was someone we wanted to wage such a war with.