“No!” I screamed, putting up my hands. I tried to dodge the stream of water, but Jonah’s aim was too good, and he caught me as I turned, managing to soak both my front and my back.

“Gotcha!” he called triumphantly.

“Jonah!” I groaned, wiping water out of my eyes. I should have known he was going to do this. If I’d been thinking about it, I probably could have prepared. Brought my own water gun—or at least some extra dry clothes. He always played some kind of prank on me on School Spirit Day—pranks that usually involved me getting drenched.

Looking down, I saw that my white volleyball shirt was now mostly see-through. I considered running back into the house to change, but when I glanced down at my watch, I saw that it was already 7:22, so I just jogged toward the Jeep.

“You’re a monster,” I complained, giving his shoulder a shove as I climbed into the back seat.

“What? I think you look great!” Jonah said. “Don’t you think, Austin?”

“Absolutely. Like a wet makeover,” Austin confirmed, glancing over to make sure I’d buckled up, then starting down the street.

I rolled my eyes. “I have to meet with Mr. Moss this morning. He’s not going to be impressed by this,” I said, pulling my wet t-shirt away from my skin. It made a disconcerting sucking sound as it finally peeled away.

Jonah and Austin laughed, then Jonah rummaged around in his backpack and passed a t-shirt back to me.

“Here,” he said, “you can wear this until your shirt dries.”

I shook out the white t-shirt to see that it was one of Jonah’s football team shirts. It was way too big for me—Jonah had a broad chest and shoulders from lifting—but at least it was dry. But—still wary—I gave it a sniff.

“It’s clean,” Jonah promised, managing to look offended as he refilled the water gun with his water bottle.

“Fine,” I grumbled, and pulled my shirt off. I dropped it into a wet pile on the floor of the Jeep and pulled on the dry shirt as Jonah turned to Austin.

“What events are you signed up for today?” Jonah asked his boyfriend.

“All of ’em,” Austin said enthusiastically.

I smiled to myself. That was classic Austin: so sweet and so excitable.

“After Coach gave me the news that I was moving from second-string quarterback up to the top spot next year, I got really excited and signed up for everything,” he explained with his wide smile. He looked over at Jonah. “What about you?”

“Nothing,” Jonah said, shaking his head.

“Wait—not nothing,” Austin replied, his smile slipping. “What about—”

“I’m doing the three-legged race with you,” Jonah assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, good,” Austin said, looking relieved. He pushed his golden hair from his eyes and looked at me in the rearview mirror. “What about you, Camilla? What are you signed up for?”

“The long jump,” I told him.

Jonah turned around to look at me, as though a question had just occurred to him. “Oh, by the way, what was up with that weird picture you sent me this morning? What the hell was that?”

“Oh, that was so weird,” I gushed. “I had just finished my run over at High Head. I look over, and there’s about a million bones just chilling there on the sand.”

“Really?” Jonah looked stunned. “That’s so creepy.”

“Yeah, weird,” Austin agreed.

“Not just weird—disturbing,” Jonah insisted. “And kind of gross.”

“Yeah, it was really odd. I called my parents to come look at it.”

“That’s good,” Jonah said, looking relieved. “At least there are some experts on the job.”

Austin pulled into the school parking lot and into Jonah’s usual spot. I jumped to the ground before Austin could even turn off the engine and waved back at the boys. “See you later!” I called, then rushed onto campus.

I sprinted all the way, so I was panting for breath when I reached Mr. Moss’s classroom.

“Hi,” I breathed, yanking open the door. “Sorry I’m late.”

Mr. Moss was at his desk, a red pen poised over a stack of tests. “Camilla, I was just about to give up on you. Come on in.”

I stepped into the classroom, trying desperately to breathe normally. “Hi, yeah, thanks. It was a…weird morning.”

“Well.” Mr. Moss gestured to the desk right in front of him. “What can I do for you?”

I took a seat. “It was in my email,” I reminded him. “I wanted to talk to you about doing some extra credit.”

Mr. Moss paused, and a frown creased his face. “Extra credit?”

“Yeah,” I said. Jonah’s t-shirt was slipping off my shoulder, and I yanked it back into place. “Extra credit.”

“I don’t think extra credit is going to do you any good.”

“Why not?”

His frown deepened. “Camilla, you’re failing.”