He said only, “Bad people. Some very bad people.” Uncle…

““He said only, “Bad people. Some very bad people.” Uncle Chris’s mouth flattened into a small, thin line. Then he nodded crisply. He knew all about bad people. John was speaking in a language he understood. “Is it drugs?” Uncle Chris asked, in a hushed voice. I looked at John, in his black jeans and T-shirt, with his long dark hair, and studded leather wristbands. I could see why Uncle Chris had asked. To someone of his generation, it would have to be either drugs, or…well, a rock band. John gave me a barely perceptible shake of his head. No, his eyes begged me. Don’t. “Yes,” I said, glancing back at Uncle Chris. “It’s drugs.” John’s gaze instantly rolled towards the sky. “Piercey,” Uncle Chris said, exhaling gustily and dragging a hand through his hair. “We talked about this. I thought you were the one I didn’t have to worry about.” We had talked about something along those lines, I remembered, outside this very house, the night before Jade was killed. But it had been about Uncle Chris giving me driving lessons. I didn’t recall drugs being mentioned. “Well,” I said. “Things are a little messed up right now. That’s why we’re here. I wanted to make sure Alex is okay.” “Alex?” Uncle Chris threw me a look of alarm. “Don’t tell me Alex is doing drugs.” I could see now why John had been against lying about the drugs thing. I’d thought it would simplify things. But it was only making them worse. “He’s not,” I said quickly. If Alex got out of all this alive, he was going to kill me.””

— Meg Cabot