“Dude, it’s not like I don’t have banger’s remorse, ’cause I do,” Steven admitted.

“But do you have remorse because you did it, or because you got caught?” Dustin asked.

“I’d say fifty/fifty.”

“And I’d say, thank you for your honesty,” Dustin said, and he meant it, too.

After an hour passed, Steven told Dustin he had to cut their time short so he could pick up his sister at Grand Central. Anna was coming in for damage control. Dustin, now understanding the extenuating circumstances at hand, found himself offering to edit and proof Steven’s paper on the flaws of the American prison system for him. Truth be told, Dustin welcomed the idea of a little busywork because he had nothing better to do that night except obsess over Kimmie, which was the last thing he wanted. The thought of doing yet another deep dive through her Instagram feed, where he would stare at heavily filtered “artistic” photos of nature, made him want to scream. (Kimmie’s most annoying trait so far was that she, unlike most other teen girls, rarely posted selfies.)

As Dustin gathered up his things to go, it occurred to Steven how he might help Dustin and himself with one simple idea. “You should go to Wollman Rink right now because Kimmie’s there skating. She was recently cleared by her surgeon to skate again and Lolly said ‘skating puts Kimmie in her happy place.’ And if you show up when she’s in her happy place, then maybe some of her happy place could rub off on your happy place, nome sayin’?”

Dustin shook his head vehemently at the suggestion. “No way, I can’t. Do I look like a guy who can fake his way through a staged run-in? Nope, nope, nope!”

Steven waited for Dustin to quiet down before he continued. “C’mon, you’d be doing me a solid by going to talk to her.” His rationale for this request was that he needed Kimmie to cover for Lolly’s absence to their father and stepmother. “Lolly’s going to be in no shape to see the ’rents tonight and Anna’s gonna need some time to talk her down off the crazy ledge!”

The last thing Dustin wanted was to get in the middle of Steven’s messy love life, reminding his friend that the messenger was the one who always got killed. “Text her yourself.”