Watching

Had that been the last time Riley had seen Rhea—at least alive?

She remembered heading downstairs to be by herself. The next time she’d seen her friends was when they’d come stumbling drunkenly down the stairs and Trudy had been wielding a full pitcher of beer.

Riley had asked Trudy …

“Where’s Rhea?”

Trudy hadn’t known, but one of the other girls—Heather, Riley thought—had said that Rhea had already gone back to the dorm.

Riley swallowed hard at the realization—yes, the last time she had ever seen Rhea alive was right here on this dance floor.

She felt a renewed rush of guilt, and the awfulness of that word if …

If maybe I’d just stayed and danced with them …

But she reminded herself of what Dr. Zimmerman had said about guilt—that it wasn’t going to bring Rhea back …

“Focus instead on our capacity for empathy.”

Riley wondered—was that what she was trying to do right now, by reliving what she and her friends had gone through that night?

Was she trying to empathize?

If so, with whom?

She had no idea.

All she knew was that her curiosity was growing by the moment.

She simply wanted to know—without really having any idea what she expected to find out.

Riley turned away from the dance floor and noticed a couple of guys playing pool. One of them was Harry Rampling, the football player who had approached her downstairs that night.

Riley watched as Harry took a pool shot that didn’t put any balls in any pockets. Riley thought it was a dumb shot. She was a pretty good pool player herself.

Then Harry made eye contact with her and sneered a little.