Chapter 7: The Rules

"That's my old number," I said.

Forty people turned to look at me.

"I gave it up in January when my screen cracked. Brooke asked if she could keep the line alive on her spare phone, for the family plan."

"Liar," Brooke said, but her eyes went to her clutch.

Miles took out his phone.

"I'm going to call it," he said. "Dean, read the number again."

Dean read it, slowly now.

Miles dialed.

For a moment there was only the soft hum of the air conditioning in the big white room.

Then something rang inside Brooke's clutch.

It was a small, thin ring, the default tone of a phone nobody had bothered to personalize.

Forty people heard it.

Brooke's hand closed on the clasp.

"That's my spare phone," she said. "Yes. Leah gave it to me. So she could use it whenever she wanted."

"Then you wrote the message," my father said. "Since it's your phone."

"I wrote nothing!"

"Brooke," Miles said. "Please stop."

It was the gentlest thing he had said all night, and it hit her harder than a shout.

Her face crumpled.

For ten years I had held her through every cry she had.

I did not move this time.

"Everyone's against me," she whispered. "I only wanted to help her."

"Brooke."

"She doesn't have anyone!"

"She has a father who took that picture," Miles said. "She has a man who is standing right here."

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