'No.' She laughs. 'But I've seen enough American TV to know that police stations have noticeboards with missing people on.'
'That, could actually work,' I say.
'I actually can't believe Graham,' Elle says, letting out a breath like she's been holding it. 'Did you see his smug face?'
'I know,' I say. 'This is what he does.'
'Why exactly were you friends?'
'He was a friend when I needed it,' I say. 'When we arrived in London I had no friends at school and Graham was there.'
'It's not even like it's our place to tell Yates or confront Graham,' Elle says. 'It's not our relationship.' She lets out an exasperated moan, shaking her hands by her sides. 'I thought I left social bullshit behind.'
'Sorry,' I say.
She claps me on the back. 'I think it's inescapable.'
We know New York quite well. We've explored quite a lot in our year being dead.
It doesn't take long to find a police station. We walk inside and cast around, looking for Elle's mystical noticeboard of missing people.
The light inside is overly bright and I put up my hand to shade my eyes.
'Over there,' Elle says happily. She strides to the other side of the lobby, to a huge green noticeboard plastered in print-outs, pictures and information.
We stand in front of it and look for a crime to solve.
'Oh my god,' says someone from across the lobby.
We turn around. A woman, with scraped back hair and cheap jewellery, stares directly at us.
'Did you see that?' she says, pointing. 'Look, look!'
Slowly, other people start looking in our direction.
'Easton,' Elle says. 'I don't like this.'
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