“Not really,” he said. “We're friends. We just talked.”

“Not really? Are you sure? Miss Fitch says that you told her that you helped

Miss Brady with her project all summer.”

The fire from Katie had turned to a hard, cold freeze. Peter rubbed his own

neck. How had things gone from great to horrible so quickly?

“Mr. Clark? Did you or did you not help Miss Brady with her project? Yes,

or no?”

He looked around the room as if maybe someone could come whisk him

away. His eyes ended on Katie. She was staring at him, eyes round, pleading, desperate.

“Maybe.” Don't make me say it, he thought. Don't make me hurt her.

“Maybe?”

“Well, I answered a few of her questions.” The words spilled out of his mouth. “Technically, I suppose, yes, they were about her mobile, but it wasn't—”

Mr. Riley didn't let him finish, cutting him off with a raised hand. “Then I'm

afraid we have no choice but to disqualify Miss Brady from the competition. I'm

sorry, Miss Brady, but rules are rules.” He turned to Peter again. “Mr. Clark, you are now the first-place winner. Congratulations. And I'm sorry it had to be under

these circumstances.”

Peter's legs buzzed as if he'd been shocked. Congratulations? For what?

Ruining Katie's life?

He took a step back, confused. Mrs. Wells was shaking her head. She offered

a pale smile to Katie who still stood, unseeing, as frozen as a block of granite.

Penny had disappeared. The judges evaporated into the background.

Students milled about, tearing down their projects, oblivious that something horribly, terribly wrong had happened.

“Why, Peter?”

He turned. Katie's face was a mask of pain. Except for her eyes. They burned

and sparked.

“Why did you tell them that?”

“I…I couldn't lie, Katie.” It was all he had.

She cocked her head. Normally it was cute, but now it was an ugly gesture

of bitterness. “No, you just threw me under the bus. Was it Penny's idea or yours? Heaven forbid an artist would win the big prize.”

“What? No, that's not it at all. I don't care about the prize.”

She nodded furiously. “Right. Why would you? You don't need this

scholarship. You can get a dozen scholarships for science. Every school offers them. They practically hand them out to anyone.” She stopped, standing, fuming.

“That's not fair, Katie.”

She put her hands on her hips and took a step towards him. “Not fair? That's funny, Peter, really funny. I'll tell you what's not fair. It's not fair you guys with the stupid rockets and tadpoles get the scholarship every year, just because stupid Nitrovex is a stupid chemical company.” She took another step towards him, finger pointing at his chest. “For once, just once, I had a chance, and you

blew it for me.”

Peter stepped back, surprised at the fury in Katie's eyes, his hands reaching

for a table, trying to steady himself. Instead, his heel landed on something hard.

His foot rolled forwards and he fell backward. He'd stepped on the stupid metal

pipe he'd knocked off earlier.

Arms flailing, he grabbed for the edge of his table and twirled clumsily into

his experiment. Pieces crashed together. He swung an arm in a last attempt at balance, glancing off a red lever. Pipes hissed and hoses snaked as the largest tube fell forward and pressure released.

It was slow-motion in his brain but over in a horrible instant. A heavy white

pipe hissed and shot from the table, wobbling directly towards Katie's sculpture.

Peter fell backward onto the floor, face down, but the sound of the

destruction was worse than actually seeing it. Clashing and tinkling glass, metal

dropping, objects clattering to the floor.

And above it all, Katie's high-pitched wail of disbelief. “My mobile! You destroy my life and now my art too!”

* * *

Present Day

The Mustang's tires squealed as he took a turn too tightly onto Park Road which