Morgan Taylor could have had everything. She was a genius, she was a born athlete, and she had the best attitude in the world. She had a talent for boxing, which held strong in her hometown of New York City. She had a quick mind that got her a full scholarship to NYU. Her pretty face was hard to miss, even in a crowd. She had the independence and abilities of an adult. She even had a pretty voice, even from a young age.

She didn't, however, have many friends in high school. She didn't have much of a social life. She didn't even have much to do, other than study and box. The most important thing she didn't have, though, was a set of parents.

She'd never had them, and she lived as if all teenagers were brought up without parents. She was also a little different than the rest of the orphans around her: she skipped six grades and graduated high school at age 12. She was ready to graduate from NYU by the time she was 16. Something happened in that spring, though, that changed Morgan's life for ever.

The cold metal of the chair went right through the thin fabric of my tank top. I tried looking out the window, but it was too high and I knew that they weren't going to let me stand up and walk around in here. These guys had taken me out of my class 3 weeks before the final to sit in a cold room and wait for someone to come and interrogate me? I didn't even know why I was here.

I retied my old, beaten-up Converse. I adjusted my studded belt. I took my hair out of its ponytail and put it up again. I swear, when I started working here at the New York City Police Department, I was going to work at making things more efficient.

"Sorry about the wait," a detective said as he walked in. He had a strong Jersey accent, and he was wearing a pair of stylish glasses and a white button-up that was tucked in to his nice jeans. "I'm Detective Messer. I'm assuming you're..." He paused to take a look at a folder. "Miss Taylor?"

"That's me."

"I'm going to cut to the chase. Did you know this man?" He slid a picture of a man from the morgue across the table. I looked at it and instantly knew who it was.

"That's my Psychology professor."

"You sure?"

"Yup."

"You seem really nonchalant about looking at a dead body. Especially the one of someone you knew."

Here goes. "I'm studying to do what you do, Detective, so I can't really react to it."

His eyebrows came together in confusion. "It says here you're sixteen."

"It's right." I glanced out the window. I'd had this conversation a thousand times before, and it never had a good outcome. I mean, come on. All of my fellow students hated me because I was a few years younger than I was.

"I don't get it. Fill me in here."

Once you got past the fact that he was interrogating you, Detective Messer was really attractive.

"I was orphaned when I was little. I skipped six years of school. Now I'm going to NYU. I take finals in three weeks and graduate after that." I was pretty blunt with this information, only because I'd had to relay it so many times to skeptic adults.

He raised his eyebrows. "Interesting. So this is your professor?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell my why your DNA was on his hand?"

"I shook his hand during class yesterday. We were studying how people reacted to what other people did. He had a bunch of us stand up in front of the class in a line, and he would do random things. He ran up to me and shook my hand."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

I sighed. "Yeah. My classmates probably could. They watch me like hawks. I don't have any of their numbers though."

"I'm going to need a compare sample of your DNA, just in case. It won't take long. I'll contact your other professors too, and they'll give me the numbers needed for your alibi." The detective held out a cotton swab. "If you're studying this, you should know the drill."

I opened my mouth and he gently swabbed the inside of my cheek.

He was tucking the swab in its plastic case when he spoke again. "Sorry we took you out of your class and such, but you're a minor. We're also looking for any possible lead here. To be honest, we've got nothing yet." He glanced up at me with a faint smile on his face. "I'll be back," he said. He winked, and left me in the room alone.

"Ugh, not again," I groaned.

I looked behind me and saw the two-way mirror. After deciding I shouldn't stick my tongue out at whoever was on the other side, I leaned back in my chair again and just waited.