The police still hadn't made any real progress on Louis' murder when, a few days later, something else happened at school.

This time, the one who died was Fred Roth from my class.

The news spread before the first period even started. The whole grade was buzzing.

"Fred Roth is dead, too! It happened last night!"

"How did it happen?"

"His mouth was torn open from the corner of his lips all the way to his ears, like he was laughing like mad."

My hand, holding a pen, started to shake. Fred was the one who'd been snickering in the crowd that day when Louis humiliated me. He'd been sitting in the back row, thinking I couldn't see him, but I clearly remembered the gloating look on his face.

"Where was he found?" Micah asked in a low voice.

"The same back alley behind the school, near where they found Louis' body."

"What are the cops saying?"

"They're saying it was the same killer because of the similar methods. There weren't any real clues left at the scene, too."

Rita's face had gone pale. "This is seriously messed up. Two of our classmates have died, one after another.

She turned to look at me. "Jeremiah, are you okay? You look awful."

I forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just a little scared."

But inside, my feelings were a tangled mess. Sure, I was scared, but under the fear, there was this strange rush of pleasure.

Fred was dead. The guy who'd laughed at me… was dead. And the way he died—his mouth torn into a grotesque smile—was just like the smirk he wore when he was watching my humiliation.

There was no way that was a coincidence. Absolutely no way.

"Do you think the killer's gonna keep going?" someone whispered.

"Probably. It's starting to look like a serial killer."

"Doesn't that mean we're all in danger?"

"I don't know, but we should all be extra careful for the next few days. Don't walk around alone at night."

I lowered my head and pretended to read as I listened to them. My mind kept replaying what happened that day, though.

Besides Louis and Fred, would there be a next one? Who would it be?

The thought filled me with both terror and excitement. I couldn't help being scared of myself because of these warring emotions.

…

The next morning, the school held an emergency assembly for all students and staff.

The principal, Mr. Bronson, stood on stage, looking grim. "In light of the recent violent incidents, the school has decided to implement the following safety measures."

The auditorium fell completely silent. Everyone listened closely.

"First, students are forbidden from going out alone after 7:00 pm. Second, the back alley behind the school will be temporarily closed off. Third, someone will be assigned to each class to keep track of students' whereabouts."

He paused, then went on, "The police have confirmed that this is a serial murder case targeting our school. You must all stay on high alert."

…

After the assembly, Captain Colson came to our class again. This time, his expression was even more serious.

"From our preliminary investigation, we've noticed a pattern." He swept a gaze across the room. "Both victims were involved in the food delivery incident from a few days ago."

My heart almost stopped.

"Louis was directly involved, and Fred was there watching. We have reason to believe the killer may be taking revenge on someone's behalf." Captain Colson's eyes settled on me again. "Jeremiah, think carefully about this. Who else was there that day? Did anyone react in a particularly strong way?"

I tried to dig through my memories and said shakily, "There were a lot of people watching. I can't really remember anything specific."

"That's okay. Take your time. Contact us anytime if you remember anything." He left his name card and walked out, but the look in his eyes made me very uneasy.

At lunch, Micah leaned over to me and whispered, "Jeremiah, don't you feel like the cops are paying extra attention to you?"

I tried to sound calm. "It's probably because I'm the victim in all this."

"But think about it. The two people who died are the ones who fought with you that day." Rita joined in. "Doesn't that feel a little too coincidental?"

"Coincidental? Come on, it's obvious someone's out there getting revenge for Jeremiah," Micah muttered, keeping his voice low. "Could it be some relative or friend of yours?"

I shook my head. "No way. My family's super straight-laced. They would never do something like this. And I don't have any friends that vicious."

Even so, a deep sense of fear crept over me. If the killer kept going, would I eventually become a suspect?

The thought killed my appetite.

…

Three more days passed, and the horror made another appearance. This time, the one who died was John Moore from the class next door.

I was in math class when the news broke. My pen slipped right out of my hand.

John Moore?

I remembered him vividly. He was the one who'd talked trash at the top of his lungs in the hallway.

Right after Louis had humiliated me, I'd stumbled out of the classroom with my head down. I'd bumped into John and a couple of his buddies chatting in the hallway.

"He brought it on himself, making such a big deal over one stupid food delivery."

"Right? And now, everyone knows how broke his family is."

"Some people just love attention. He totally deserved to get dragged like that."

Every word was like a knife cutting into my heart, making an already humiliating moment even worse.

And now, John was dead.

…

After class, the rumors exploded all over school.

"They found John dead at home. His tongue was cut out."

"What? His tongue?"

"Yeah. The killer sliced it off. There was blood everywhere."

My head spun. John's tongue was cut out? The guy who'd wagged tongues and mocked me had his tongue cut out?

The symbolism was impossible to ignore.

"This is already the third incident," Micah said, his face pale. "What the hell is the killer trying to do?"

"I think it's pretty obvious," Rita said quietly. "Every single one of them was involved in that food delivery incident."

She glanced at me. "Jeremiah, are you sure you don't know what's going on?"

I shook my head, but inside, that twisted rush of satisfaction surged again.

John was dead. The guy who said I deserved what I got was dead, and he died in a way that matched his sin perfectly.

"Do you think we're in danger, too?" someone asked.

"We should be fine, right? It's not like we ever messed with Jeremiah."

"Yeah, but who knows what the killer's standards are? What if it's enough that we were there that day?"

Panic started spreading through the class, and the way people looked at me changed. Their gazes were complicated now. There was pity, fear, and something else I couldn't quite name.

I tried to act calm, but inside, I was both thrilled and terrified.

The thrill came from knowing that someone who hurt me had gotten what he deserved. The terror came from the realization that this pattern of targeted killings would eventually make the cops zero in on me.

But what scared me most was the fact that I'd started looking forward to the next death. That thought alone made my skin crawl.

…

Since John's death, I noticed the way my classmates looked at me had completely changed. Sympathy turned to fear, and concern turned into suspicion.

During periods, I overheard a few classmates whispering among themselves as I walked to the bathroom.

"Don't you think it's weird? All the people who died are…"

As their voices drifted over, a bunch of details I'd been ignoring suddenly crashed into my mind all at once. I froze and stopped dead in the hallway, stunned.