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face me. I stopped too. We had reached the main part of campus. The lighting was stronger, and I could see James’s expression clearly. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I understand you’re upset. You have a right. You’ve had a tough time. I was trying to, um, to distract you.”
    “Distract me.” I discovered that, after all, I had plenty of breath. Rage consumed me. I wasn’t afraid of James Droussian, no matter how many Evil Drug Distribution Men he hung out with in the woods.
    James was still looking down at me. Then he said earnestly, “I’ve thought about Daniel a lot.”
    “Oh, really?” I said. “Why would that be? Let me think. Could it be that Daniel was a good customer of yours? Are you feeling guilty?”
    “Frances, Daniel and I got high together a couple of times, no big deal, but that was all—”
    “Business,” I mimicked recklessly. “Just business. Is that what you tell yourself?”
    James tugged at his ponytail. “Frances, I swear to you, I never sold Daniel smack. I
swear.
I had nothing to do with—”
    “Right,” I said. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
    I began marching across the quad alone. I felt James fall into step beside me again, loping easily while I was moving as rapidly as I could without running. This would probably make a funny cartoon too. Bambi and the Fee Fie Foe Giant. Ha. But wait—why did I care? So what if James Droussian found me funny? Who cared? What was wrong with me?
    “Believe me, I would never sell smack,” James was insisting. “Some things are okay, you know, but others—”
    I couldn’t leave that alone. I stopped again. “Oh, you have
principles.
You make
distinctions.
Isn’t that nice? I feel much better.”
    “Listen, Frances, Daniel was responsible for his own actions. Just like you’re responsible for yours. And I am for mine.”
    “Whose stupid philosophy is that? Cain’s?”
    “Huh?” James couldn’t follow me.
    “You remember Cain,” I said rapidly. “Brother of Abel. Killer of Abel. ‘I am not my brother’s keeper.’ That’s your philosophy. That’s what you’re saying.”
    James’s forehead furrowed. “What?” He bent down to look solemnly into my eyes. “No, I’m not. He wasn’t my brother. Frances, what are
you
trying to say? That
you
feel responsible for Daniel’s death?”
    My jaw dropped. For a second I just gaped. Idiot! How dare he? James Droussian wasn’t even someone who could be respected.
    I slapped him.

C HAPTER 7
    I f only I could be invisible. That lingering fantasy from childhood swept over me the next afternoon as I crossed the main Pettengill quad to the stark New England Congregational chapel where Unity Service conducted their meetings. I’d only ever come to the chapel for large assemblies, during which the building’s main entrance was thrown open, so this time the weight of the heavy wooden double doors was a surprise to me. I pulled hard at one of them. The door shifted a few unwilling inches, and I was able to slip inside before it thudded shut. I felt I’d barely escaped being crushed.
    For some reason I thought of James Droussian and the dumbfounded yet knowing look on his face after I’d slapped him early that morning. A feeble wash of renewed anger stirred inside me. Somehow it strengthened me a little.
    Right now I had the exact same feeling in my stomachthat I’d had the one time I’d made myself go to a school dance. Daniel and I had both been freshmen.
    Are you going?
I’d asked Daniel, trying not to sound desperate, trying not to sound scared.
Will you hang out with me if I come?
    Sure. Don’t be an idiot. There’ll be people to talk to. It’ll be fine, Frances.
    But it hadn’t been fine. I was dressed all wrong; I couldn’t think of anything to say to anyone. And then Saskia had come over to Daniel as he stood a little apart from me, and she’d smiled, shyly, and I’d noticed her hair had gotten longer, and she wasn’t wearing her