The rumor started before the bell rang.
By second period, it had a name.
Nick.
Kevin heard it in fragments—whispers that followed him down hallways, cut short when teachers passed.
Nick was the last one with Jack.
Nick handed him something in the car.
Nick lied about the text.
By lunch, it wasn't a rumor anymore.
It was a theory.
Nick didn't notice at first.
He was too busy trying to act normal—laughing a little too loud, talking too fast, checking his phone every few minutes like it might explain itself if he stared long enough.
It was Jas who felt it shift.
People stopped sitting near them. Conversations stalled when Nick spoke. Someone at the next table said, just loud enough to hear, "Funny how he walked away smiling that night."
Nick froze.
"What?" he asked.
No one answered.
Detective Hale called Nick in after school.
The room was small. Windowless. The kind of place where time felt thick.
"You care about Jack," Hale said calmly.
"Yeah," Nick replied instantly. "He's my friend."
"You handed him something in the car."
Nick's mouth went dry. "It was nothing."
"What was it?"
Nick hesitated. Too long.
"A pocketknife," he said finally. "Mine. He asked to hold it."
"Why?"
Nick swallowed. "Because… because he said he'd jumped earlier. At In-N-Out."
Hale nodded, as if that confirmed something. "You didn't mention that before."
"I didn't think it mattered."
Hale leaned back. "Jack says he doesn't remember you giving him anything."
Nick's heart started pounding. "He was concussed."
"Maybe," Hale said. "Or maybe one of you is lying."
By the end of the day, the school knew.
Nick had given Jack a weapon.
Nick had a motive—jealousy, pressure, fear.
Nick had walked away smiling.
Someone even said Nick's fingerprints were found near the scene.
That part wasn't true.
But it didn't matter.
Jas confronted Nick that night.
"You should've told me," she said. Not angry—hurt. "About the knife."
"I didn't think—"
"That's the problem," she snapped. "You never think past the moment."
Lily didn't say anything.
She just looked at him differently.
Nick felt something inside him crack
Kevin watched it all from a distance.
And something about it bothered him.
Because the accusation fit too well.
Too clean. Too convenient.
And because the one person who should've been nervous—
Jack—
was calm.
Supportive.
Comforting.
Jack visited Nick the next day, sitting beside him like nothing had changed.
"They're just scared," Jack said softly. "It'll pass."
Nick nodded, exhausted. "I hope so."
Jack smiled.
And Kevin realized something chilling.
Nick wasn't the suspect.
He was the shield.