“The fact that you would even think I would do it … that you would even question it for one second is so goddamn hurtful,” he says. “I would never think that about you—I would never doubt you like that.”

“Then just say you didn’t do it. Swear it.”

“No, I won’t. You just have to trust me. Like I trusted you.”

My chest suddenly feels as if a mixing truck has backed up to it and is dumping ten tons of wet cement inside my ribcage. I press a fist into my breastbone to loosen the sickening tightness. Because the worst thing is, he’s right. I do have doubts. I’m ashamed that I do, and I’m confused that I do, and I just want him to assure me that he didn’t do it.

“You can’t do it, can you?” Lucky says in a dark, rough voice.

“It’s easier for you!” I say, feeling hot tears filling up my eyes. “Trust is simple for you because your life is stable in Beauty, and you’ve got a normal family who loves you and makes you feel safe and secure.”

“So do you!”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Oh, really? Your mom doesn’t count? Your grandmother doesn’t count? Evie doesn’t count? You’ve got just as much of a family here as me. You’ve got roots here, too—Jesus, Josie. You’re always going on about that stupid curse. Your family’s been here longer than mine has. This is your home as much as it is mine.”

“It may be my home, but my family isn’t like yours—it’s fractured and screwed up!”

“Right, okay,” he says, eyes glossy and dark … cheeks hollow, “is this where you’re going to tell me that you’re going to run off to California now? That what we did yesterday is all in the past, and you’re just going to head off into the sunset to your superstar father to be part of his perfect family?”

“No!”

“Find that hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it, because I found out last night that my father is basically a Humbert who likes to play the Lolita game with college girls!”

A little concern bends his brows. “What?”

“There were other Winonas and Josies in his life, and he got fired from the university over it. He’s a loser, okay? So I don’t have a father or an apprenticeship, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here. How’s that for irony? Huh? The man who took that stupid picture has ruined my mom’s life and mine. So thanks, Henry Zabka, for building a coffin for my dreams. And thanks, Adrian Summers, for digging the hole. And thank you, Lucky, for kicking dirt on top of it.”