The Many Mysteries of the Finkel Family

was monogrammed right on it, in white cursive lettering. Caroline’s hands shook a little as she unzipped the bag and searched for Marissa’s lunch box.
Ah. There it was—one of those fancy lunch boxes with padded fabric. Caroline opened it, careful to avoid touching Marissa’s actual food. After all, there was no need to spread germs. (Well, at least not any more than she was already doing.)
Before she could think too much about it, Caroline slipped in her creation. She sealed up the box, zipped the bag, and tiptoed away from it as fast as she could possibly manage—nearly tripping on the way back to her seat.
“Did you do it?” Micah asked her.
Caroline nodded.
Micah gave a laugh that veered toward an honest-to-goodness cackle. Caroline tried to smile back at him.
“This is going to be awesome!” he said. “I can’t wait for lunch.”
Caroline tried to agree, but couldn’t quite manage to figure out the right words. Wild curls in bloodred filled her mind, making it impossible to concentrate. She had absolutely no idea how she was going to make it to lunch.
Yet make it she did—though not without a whole lot of hand-flapping, leg-bouncing, and general lack of ability to pay attention to anything. But finally, she and Micah made it to the cafeteria.
Act normal, Caroline told herself. And for goodness’ sake, don’t look at Marissa.
Of course, she couldn’t look away from Marissa.
There wasn’t much to look at, not at first. A crowd of girls surrounded Marissa—she, naturally, was at the very center of the group. Soon enough, the cafeteria became so crowded that Caroline couldn’t see anything aside from a sea of moving bodies. All the colors and smells swirled together, making it almost impossible to concentrate.
“Are you okay?” Micah asked her.
Caroline did not respond. Nor did she look at her own lunch bag. She just waited.
Soon enough, it came. A familiar shriek rang through the cafeteria. Then, a beat of silence.
It didn’t last long. “Someone put a dead rat in my lunch!” Marissa said. Well, screamed.
Murmurs rippled through the room, soon followed by the unmistakable chime of giggling. Caroline smiled, although her conscience winced.
All the chaos made it hard to follow what happened next, but Caroline guessed that a teacher went over to Marissa. “It’s not a rat,” an unfamiliar voice declared. “Although it does look very realistic.”
“Nice job,” Micah whispered.
Caroline felt absurdly proud of her handiwork. Because of course she hadn’t actually put a dead animal in Marissa’s lunch—she would never do something so obviously mean and unsanitary. No, instead she’d merely taken one of Kugel’s mouse toys and made it look like it was dead. Large quantities of red paint had been involved.
It was just a joke. Wasn’t it?
“You screamed because of a fake rat?” a boy Caroline didn’t know asked rather loudly. “Next time maybe someone should try a rubber chicken—you know, like they sell in joke shops for the little kids.”
A ripple of laughter erupted. It suddenly occurred to Caroline that she and Micah were probably not the only students at Pinecone Arts Academy who resented Marissa and her meanness.
“Shut up, Dylan,” Marissa said. But her voice was so thin that Caroline thought it might evaporate.
“Enough,” said the teacher. “Everybody, return to your tables for now. If you know anything about this, tell me. This is not funny. There will be consequences for this behavior.”
Caroline gulped—but next to her, Micah grinned. Widely.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: IN WHICH THE INVESTIGATION TAKES AN UNEXPECTED TURN
LOCATION: Bedroom, 9:00 p.m. last night
EVENT: C. had red paint stains on her hands. Just red.
QUESTION FOR FURTHER INVESTIGATION: Why?
Something was weird about Caroline again. Lara knew it. And so she watched her sister very, very carefully throughout the entire day. Even now that school was over, she tried to keep an eye on Caroline. Sneakily, of course.
An uncomfortable silence lingered between them as they waited for Aviva by the entrance. It was not for lack of trying on Lara’s part. Yet Caroline kept responding to her inquiries with one-word answers. How very annoying!
“Ahem.”
Lara glanced up to find Principal Jenkins. At first, she tensed. Was she in trouble? She hadn’t done anything wrong lately! At least, not as far as she could remember.
Then she realized: Principal Jenkins wasn’t talking to Lara. Her scarily serious look was directed at Caroline.
“Miss Finkel,” she said. “I would like to talk with you in my office.”
In no time at all, Caroline’s face became a particularly unhappy shade of pale. Lara squeezed her on the shoulder. Sure, her sister was so obviously hiding something. But that did not mean Lara was about to allow Principal Jenkins to do . . . whatever it was she was planning to do.
“If Caroline goes, I go,” she said.
Principal Jenkins nodded. “That really is not necessary. Your sister is not in trouble. But if it would make you feel better . . .”
“It would.”
Without her tablet in hand, Caroline remained silent. Lara straightened her back as they walked into the office. She could totally handle this.
Principal Jenkins gestured for them to sit down in the squishy chairs across from her desk. Lara sank into one and tried to keep her focus. She would not be lured into complacency, and she intended to let Principal Jenkins know it.
“If you don’t follow the Americans with Disabilities Act, I am going to let our lawyer know about it,” Lara informed her.
The Finkels did not actually have a lawyer. But Principal Jenkins didn’t need to know that. The principal sighed and looked at Lara.
“Neither of you is in trouble,” she said. “I just wanted to have a talk with Caroline.”
Lara did not relax a single millimeter, and neither did her sister. She crossed her arms across her chest but did not speak.
The principal focused her attention on Caroline. “I understand that you’ve made a new friend . . . Micah Perkowski, is it?”
Ah. So that was the boy Caroline sent thirty katrillion texts to every day. The boy who had done something