“We made a mistake. We shouldn’t have pretended nothing happened. When they came back, you should have lost your temper. If you had thrown a fit, asked who cut up your photo and put it in the lunchbox, made a scene or even cried, you could have watched how they reacted.”

　　Fiona Bennett responded with a hum.

　　“Do you think that’s wrong?” Susan Wright slowed her pace.

　　“Ah, oh, sorry.” Fiona Bennett gave a start and glanced timidly at Susan Wright.

　　Susan Wright repeated what she had just said.

　　“But they were all drunk last night.” Fiona Bennett said.

　　“Even better—drunken words are truthful words. And besides, maybe not all of them were drunk. If you were the one who did it, would you dare get drunk? Wouldn’t you be afraid of saying something you shouldn’t and giving yourself away? So it’s very possible someone was just pretending to be drunk. If you’d made a scene last night, you could have seen who was real and who was faking.”

　　“Crystal Nelson even threw up. She must have really drunk too much.”

　　“Maybe.” Susan Wright’s tone sounded uncertain. She suspected everyone, perhaps except Fiona Bennett; her suspicion ran so deep that even a bout of drunken vomiting couldn’t dispel it. Crying probably wouldn’t, either.

　　“But I couldn’t have thought of all that yesterday, I…”

　　“Of course.” Susan Wright took Fiona Bennett’s hand. Two icy cold hands.

　　“Of course, I’m not blaming you. Don’t worry, it’s because that person was scared that she did this. Remember, she’s the one who’s afraid, not us!” As she finished, she squeezed Fiona Bennett’s hand, as if trying to pass her own confidence to Fiona Bennett.

　　“Do you know what I was thinking when I saw the shredded photo?” Fiona Bennett said with her head down; she hadn’t straightened her neck once along the way.

　　“It was only then that I really felt that person was right beside me. I could smell her, I could touch her, she was just an inch away. She was watching us, like a snake—a soft, cold, slippery snake. She was right there, really right there.”

　　Susan Wright was silent. After a while, she let go of Fiona Bennett’s hand, put her own back in her pocket, and said softly, “It’s real, yes, it’s real.”

　　By now, they had reached the bottom of the teaching building.

　　“You go in first,” Fiona Bennett suddenly said, “I have something to do.”

　　With that, she turned and ran back the way they had come.

　　This was her first time being late to class. She was a full twenty minutes late. And skipping pharmacology the day before had also been a first. This week, Fiona Bennett felt she had crossed many boundaries—boundaries of all kinds, some good, some bad. She thought she was slowly stepping out from under her father’s enormous shadow, beginning to see the shape of her own shadow for the first time. Meeting it for the first time, it felt unfamiliar.

　　The pathology teacher, Professor Richard Foster, was not very likable. She was a sharp-featured middle-aged woman; judging by her features, she must have been a beauty when she was young, but now her brows and eyes had been over-sculpted by time, giving her a fierce look. People say appearance reflects the heart, and everyone said she must be unhappy in life. She also lectured too much on theory, even when discussing cases, making it all sound theoretical, which put people to sleep.

　　When she was talking about cerebral arteriosclerosis, the counselor Harold Rogers appeared at the door. He greeted Professor Richard Foster, who glanced behind him and then stopped lecturing.

　　“Fiona Bennett.” Harold Rogers called out.

　　Fiona Bennett took a deep breath and slowly stood up.

　　Half-hidden behind Harold Rogers was the dormitory manager. She stared at Fiona Bennett for a moment, then turned to the police officer beside her to confirm, “She’s the one who made the call just now.”

　　Susan Wright looked at Fiona Bennett in surprise. Fiona Bennett gave her a small smile, then walked out.

　　Fiona Bennett was led to an empty office. Along the way, Harold Rogers kept asking questions: Fiona Bennett, what did you call the police about? How could someone want to harm Susan Wright? Why didn’t she call the police herself? Did you make a mistake? Say something…

　　Fiona Bennett said nothing. Her limbs were stiff, and she walked like a marionette. She was both nervous and excited, with lingering fear and confusion. But she knew she was doing the right thing.

　　She should have done this long ago.

　　Harold Rogers was very dissatisfied with Fiona Bennett’s attitude; this was not the Fiona Bennett he remembered. He was only a few years older than the students, and faced with this situation, he was at a loss. Seeing Fiona Bennett not answering, he turned to the dorm manager, who was a chatterbox and vividly described how Fiona Bennett had called the police. The officer said, let the police handle this, I’ll talk to the student first.

　　Before leaving the office, Harold Rogers reminded Fiona Bennett to just tell the truth. Fiona Bennett knew what he really meant: don’t cause trouble. I don’t want trouble either, Fiona Bennett thought, but when trouble comes, you can only face it.

　　The office door closed, leaving only Fiona Bennett and the police officer.

　　“You made the report, so according to procedure, I’ll take your statement here,” the officer said. He was young, wore glasses, had a round face, and looked both kind and refined. Fiona Bennett thought of Gabriel Adams; the two didn’t look alike at all, but Gabriel Adams was studying at the police academy and would also be a police officer one day.

　　After asking her name, age, and address, he got to the point. The officer said, you mentioned on the phone that someone tried to poison your classmate? Fiona Bennett said yes. The next question stumped her.

　　“Why didn’t your classmate call the police herself? Why did you do it?”

　　Fiona Bennett was taken aback.

　　“If someone tried to poison you, would you wait for someone else to call the police? Or does your classmate not know she was poisoned, but you do?”

　　At this, the round-faced officer smiled. His tone was a bit teasing, but almost matter-of-fact. Fiona Bennett began to feel uncomfortable.

　　“Of course she knows, maybe she was just too scared, so…” Fiona Bennett actually couldn’t answer this question, or maybe it was Susan Wright’s courage that made her not go to the police?

　　The officer neither agreed nor disagreed, just wrote it down and didn’t pursue the question further.

　　“Do you have any evidence?”

　　Fiona Bennett was stumped again; she wasn’t used to this kind of questioning.

　　“You said on the phone you suspect someone in your class tried to poison her. Do you have any evidence for this suspicion?”

　　Fiona Bennett told him about the bottled water.

　　“I still have the bottle,” she said.

　　“A bottle of water,” the officer said.

　　“It’s a bottle with a needle hole,” Fiona Bennett emphasized.

　　“A bottle with a needle hole.” The officer wrote it down. His training made him notice Fiona Bennett’s wording: “So, you’re not sure if there’s actually poison in the water.”

　　Fiona Bennett remembered the toxicology lab results and could only shake her head.

　　Then she told him about the shredded photo. The officer took notes, and Fiona Bennett noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

　　“It was terrifying,” Fiona Bennett emphasized, trying to convey her feelings. “I could barely breathe at the time.”

　　“Could it have been a prank?”

　　“It wasn’t a prank, definitely not just a prank.” Fiona Bennett became anxious, so she told him about the knot.

　　The officer asked her to tie the knot for him. Unable to find a string, he took off his shoelace and handed it to Fiona Bennett.

　　Fiona Bennett could sense the officer’s disbelief. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t hide it either.

　　This is crucial, Fiona Bennett told herself. If I show him the knot, he’ll believe me!

　　But she couldn’t do it. Her fingers tangled and wouldn’t obey.

　　She was so anxious she could jump, and the more anxious she got, the stiffer her hands became. The officer watched her with folded arms; Fiona Bennett could feel his gaze, which made her even more flustered, and she ended up tying a dead knot. Sweat beaded on Fiona Bennett’s forehead, her face flushed, and as she struggled to untie the knot, the officer took the shoelace back.

　　“All right, I see the more you try, the tighter it gets,” he said.

　　Fiona Bennett was so frustrated she wanted to cut off her own fingers. She bent down to untie her own shoelace, and this time she finally managed it. As the officer undid the dead knot, she tied the special knot.

　　She handed the knot to the officer, who looked at it and gave it back, asking, “Do you really tie this kind of knot often?”

　　Fiona Bennett nodded vigorously.

　　“This knot is pretty complicated. You don’t tie it every time, do you? Wouldn’t you sometimes just tie a regular knot for convenience?”

　　“It’s not complicated, I… I can usually tie it very quickly. Sometimes I do tie a regular bow, but that time, I’m sure I tied this kind.”

　　The officer made another note, then asked, “Any other evidence? More concrete evidence?”

　　Fiona Bennett shook her head. She thought the question was unfair; even though she had no other evidence, what she had was already concrete enough.

　　She shook her head only in response to the previous question.

　　As she was about to clarify, to avoid misunderstanding, the officer asked, “Is there anyone you particularly suspect?”

　　Selena Adams’s name flashed through Fiona Bennett’s mind, but without evidence, she couldn’t say it, so she shook her head again.

　　The officer closed his notebook and glanced at Fiona Bennett. Fiona Bennett met his gaze seriously. He didn’t say anything, but the smile on his face said it all. He went outside and told Harold Rogers to bring Susan Wright over.

　　“You don’t believe me? You think I made all this up, that I imagined it?” As soon as the officer returned, Fiona Bennett asked.

　　The officer smiled, “I still need to learn more about the situation.”