The corpse: pale flesh peeking out from pajamas a size too small; bruises of overlapping hues wrapping the throat; hair still damp from a shower. A tangled sheet lay next to the head. The scent of expensive shampoo and cheap alcohol lingered throughout the dorm room.

Peter stood up from his burning crouch over the body, listening to the crack and pop of his ankles. The school caretaker and Mr. Edwards stood behind him in the doorway, arms crossed and faces solemn. They waited impatiently as he wrote extensive notes and inspected every nook and cranny. After he was done, the caretaker shut the door behind them and left with Mr. Edwards to wait for the police. Last Peter had heard, the storm was still preventing their arrival. He wondered how much longer the body would have to lie there, staring at the popcorn ceiling. Whether it would start to smell, and if they’d be forced to move it to the school’s walk-in freezer, wrapped in one of the bed’s scratchy wool blankets and laid to rest amongst the frozen peas and lamb chops.

“What do you think?” Peter asked.

Next to him, Alby munched on a bag of salt and vinegar chips like nothing was out of the ordinary. “You’re the detective.”

Peter grimaced. Alby knew he hated that term, the mockery that made his knack for solving mysteries and researching true crime cases held on some pedestal. “I know. But I’m asking you.”

“Well, he was strangled.”

Peter sighed, itching at the tight collar of his school uniform. “Never mind.”

“Come on,” Alby said. “Tell me what you noticed. Or maybe you have the whole thing figured out already; I wouldn’t put it by you.”

“No, no… It’s just—okay. So, the body was found around midnight by the roommate. The roommate lost his key and had to be let in, so our killer most likely stole his key. The victim was obviously strangled, but was also, what I can assume based on the smell and near-empty bottle, very drunk at the time of death. I found a small amount of blood speckled on the wall and a dent, probably from where the killer lifted the victim and shoved him against the wall. So, we’re looking for someone strong. Not just strong enough to have strangled the victim, but someone also strong enough to lift them and bash their head into a wall. Also, I’m assuming, someone who must have been very, very mad at the victim. That’s… all I have so far.”

Alby clapped, voice muffled from chips as he said, “Bravo! Knew you’d have it all figured out.”

“Well, not all. I still don’t know who did it.”

Alby waved a hand. “Pfft. Easy. Remember that missing class money—or Lisa’s rabbit?”

Peter gave Alby a sidelong glare. “This isn’t the case of the missing homework, Al. This is murder.”

Alby shrugged. “Eh, same thing. Now, where to first?”

Peter knocked on the door in three short raps. Alby was down the hall, kicking and cursing at the vending machine. The door swung open. Josh Milby, captain of the hockey team. He opened his mouth, but Peter cut him off.

“Where were you between the hours of five pm and midnight last night?”

Josh blinked, face crinkling from irritation to something softer. “Is this abou—”

“Yes,” Peter interrupted. “So, where were you?”

“I don’t think you should be—do you want me to go get Mr. Edwards?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t. Since when do you follow teachers’ orders? You were throwing a party here last night, weren’t you?”

“I—” Josh started, before blowing out a puff of frustration. “Yeah, yeah, I was. But—”

“Please, Josh.”

Josh looked at him for a moment before resignation set into his slate eyes. “I was here all night. After dinner, me and some of the boys gathered supplies and threw Mr. Edwards off the scent before coming back here and setting up. Stayed here the rest of the night, kicked people out around three, and went to bed. Didn’t hear about… what happened… till this morning.”

“And who was at the party?”

“Uh… pretty much everyone who was still here? I mean all the hockey guys definitely. Same with all the girls, I think. Only people I don’t remember seeing were, uh, you and your roommate. Oh, what’s his name? The other nerdy guy?”

Peter ignored the use of the word ‘other.’ “Theo?”

“Yeah, him. Didn’t see him at all, I don’t think.”

“Did anyone leave early?”

“Uhh… no? I mean, Zach and Carly did, but I think we know what they were up to. I think Bryan left around midnight too? Something about wanting to get some early practice in the next morning. But honestly, that’s just who I remember. By then I was pretty wasted, so I could’ve missed someone.”

Peter made a couple notes in his pad, nodding along.

Josh cleared his throat. “You don’t… really think one of them was responsible, do you?”

Peter reasoned him with a look. “We’re at a secluded private school in the middle of a blizzard that’s practically empty save for a handful of kids who stayed behind. What do you think?”

Josh grimaced. “I really think you should talk to someone else. Don’t you—”

“Thanks for the help.”

Peter walked away, wishing, not for the first time, that he’d never stayed behind for winter break. Not only because most of the other people who’d stayed behind all actively ignored him and most likely made fun of him behind his back, but also because maybe if he hadn’t, none of this would’ve ever happened. But with both his parents working abroad, there wasn’t exactly anywhere else he could’ve stayed. And now here he was, solving a murder. Alby jogged to his side, ripping open a bag of gummy worms with his teeth. At least Peter still had him.

“Any luck?”

“Didn’t you hear the whole thing?”

Alby shook his head, spitting plastic onto the carpet and dangling a green and red worm over his mouth like a baby bird. “Too busy wrestling with the machine. Although I doubt Josh was very informative. Let me guess, a lot of ‘uhs’ and ‘I don’t knows’?”

Peter set down the stairs, looking at his feet and wincing at the loud echo of his words in the empty stairwell. “Pretty much. That, and he tried to talk me out of it.”

Alby rolled his eyes. “Oh, whatever. He’s such a hypocrite. What’re we doing now?”

“Talking to Bryan and Theo, the only two people Josh saw leave the party early. Then… I don’t know. Question Mr. Edwards and the caretaker?

Alby hopped over the last couple steps. He almost planted face-first in the process; Peter glared—their usual routine. “Well, I doubt they’ll be very happy about that. What about motive?”

“What?”

“Well, you need a motive—don’t you? Anyone who wanted to hurt the unlucky bastard?”

Peter blinked, surprised at the change of topic and Alby’s willingness to play into his ‘detective-ing,’ as he called it. “Right. Well, of course. But first I’ve got to figure out where people were and when. Motive can come later.”

Alby banged open the door, leaving Peter behind, conversation seemingly forgotten. Peter’s best friend liked to joke that his attention span would be why he’d make such a poor detective; he’d finally get a confession and be too bored to listen to the whole damn thing. Peter followed him out into the pale light of the first floor.

“I was sleeping.”

“Well, that’s helpful. Was your roommate in?”

Bryan shook his head, eyes wandering somewhere behind Peter. “He was at the party.”

“Great. What time did you get up this morning?”

“Uhh…” Bryan’s eyes half-snapped back into focus. “Like six or something?”

Peter drummed his fingers on the table. His knuckles stung with a cracking pain, which he ignored. “Alright. Well, thanks.”

Bryan nodded, already going back to his phone. Peter got up from the couch, Alby following along as he tossed his empty gummy worm package in the garbage. 

“You don’t really think that little twerp Theo killed someone, do you?” Alby asked as they walked down the hall to the other, more secluded common room where Theo could usually be found. Peter and Alby spent a good amount of their time there, ignoring Theo’s presence and mostly playing chess (Peter’s favourite) and Mario Kart (Alby’s favourite).

“I don’t know. Probably not. But it’s worth checking. Maybe he saw something?”

Alby popped his back as they stopped in front of the double doors. “Alright, well, you know how I feel about him. Come find me when you’re done. I’m gonna go find some hot chocolate or something.”

“You know, you’re going to go into a sugar coma if you keep this up.”

“That’s the dream.” Alby winked before strolling down another hall, whistling some twice-removed Christmas song as he went.

Peter huffed out a laugh before entering, finding Theo predictably in the corner over some large, dusty-looking encyclopedia.

“Theo,” Peter said in greeting.

Theo looked up, winced, then looked back down at his book.

“I need to ask about where you were last night.”

Theo looked up again, and this time held his gaze for a little longer. “Why?” 

“You know why.”

“Right. Josh mentioned this. Uh… I was here until about 11 and then went back to my room.”

“Anyone who can vouch for you?”

Theo sighed, looking uncomfortable as he looked anywhere but at Peter. He couldn’t tell if Theo was just awkward, or if he had something to hide. “My roommate didn’t come back until later. I think I saw Carly in the elevator?”

Peter perked up. “Wait. Carly? Was she alone?”

“Yeah…”

“And this was at 11?”

Theo nodded.

Peter sped out, doors banging behind him as he went to find Alby, and then Zach. 

“And you’re sure it’s him?” Alby asked as he struggled not to spill his hot chocolate while keeping up with Peter.

“It has to be. Theo saw Carly alone going downstairs, and there’s no way she has the strength to do something so violent, so it has to be Zach. He was completely unaccounted for after the party, and if he wasn’t with Carly…”

Peter knocked on Zach’s door until his knuckles stung. It flew open to reveal his roommate. “What?”

“Where’s Zach?” 

“Uh, downstairs, I think. Said he was meeting up with Bryan. Hey, aren’t you—”

“Thanks,” Peter called, already heading for the stairs with Alby on his tail.

“Zach, I know you weren’t with Carly last night,” Peter said. “So where were you?”

Zach blinked, quickly looking at Josh before facing Peter again. “Um, my room?”

“I don’t believe you. You left with Carly on purpose, to make people assume the two of you would be together. But then you went and killed him, didn’t you?”

Zach looked around, somewhat desperately. “Look, Peter, are you feeling okay?”

“Didn’t you!” Peter yelled. “Admit what you did. You killed him. It’s your fault, isn’t it?”

Zach shook his head. “You’re crazy, man.”

Josh reached over to cut in. “Zach, wait—”

“No, we can’t keep treating him like some little detective. I mean, listen to him!”

“What are you talking about?” The words tumbled out of Peter’s mouth before he could help it. He didn’t want to know, not really. Everything was moving in slow motion, and yet he couldn’t seem to keep up.

Far away, Peter heard Josh say, “Go get Mr. Edwards. Now.”

“Alby wasn’t murdered, okay Peter?” Zach said harshly. “He killed himself. Hung himself. You just so happened to find him. Look, your hand’s still busted from when you punched that wall. Are you going to remember now?”

Peter felt his head shake back and forth, but everything was moving through water. He looked next to him, to where Alby was standing with his hot chocolate and that stupid grin on his face, and saw only wood panelling and grey carpet. Peter felt himself get closer to the ground until a large weight clasped his shoulder and pulled him up. He let himself be led down a hall and sat in a room. He thought someone was trying to talk to him, something about his parents and a grief counsellor, but the words were warbly and distorted. Peter had never felt so alone. All along he’d been looking for someone to blame, when he should’ve been blaming himself. Why hadn’t Alby told him? Why had they had that stupid fight the night before? 

Peter looked over to his left, and there was Alby, resting against a door frame with a steaming cup in his hand. 

“It’s not your fault,” Alby said.

“You’re not real,” Peter replied. 

Alby shrugged. “So what?”

“You’re just in my head.”

“Doesn’t that mean a part of you knows it’s not your fault too?” Peter looked away, shutting his eyes tight, willing the voice to go away, but it continued. “You think some stupid fight made me do this? You don’t think the constant dumb jokes and big smiles might’ve been covering up for something? You’re the detective, aren’t you? Figure it out. You tried to help me; the teachers tried to help me. I’m. Still. Dead.”

Peter dug his fingernails into the thin cartilage of his ears, chin pressing firmly against his chest. “Shut up!”

“No! Okay? We’re not doing this anymore. You’re going to remember, and you’re going to keep remembering. You’re going to get out of this daydream, finish school, and go be a detective or whatever the hell it is you want to do with your life. You’re not going to forget me, but you’re not going to keep remembering me like this either. Got it?”

Tears began to itch at Peter’s skin, and he let them soak his face just as he let the burning choke of grief make its way down his throat. Peter heard the sound of a door opening, and he couldn’t tell if it was the sound of Alby leaving or Peter opening their door and finding him. Peter looked up through the blur of salt, and he watched as Alby stepped through the door and, with a final flash of familiar brown curls, shut it firmly yet gently behind him.