“Who really knows? Several? None? Everyone was surprised about Bunny. Certain blond rowers I know that shall not be named ever, ever again because they are dicks, and I can’t believe I ever allowed myself to trust them—”

Yikes. Honestly, I’d rather not discuss Adrian Summers ever again either. Ever-ever.

“—these certain people said the whole Bunny and Lucky thing must’ve been a one-time hookup situation, because they definitely weren’t an ongoing item. Maybe it’s just a rumor. Or maybe he’s a serial dater.”

I don’t like that. At all. It reminds me of my mom’s dating habits, all wrapped up in lies and sneaking around, and kids at school whispering “Wild Winona.” It makes me a little sick to my stomach, to be honest.

I don’t know why I care. Lucky can do what he wants.

“Why is he dressed up like that?” I ask. Irritated that he might be a serial dater. Irritated that it bothers me. That I don’t know anything about a boy I used to know, who stuck his neck out for me. “Looks like he’s going to church or a funeral.”

“Or an arraignment,” Evie says. “They’re going to the courthouse.”

Stomach in knots. Guilt. Shame. Worry.

“Entire Karras family en force,” Evie notes. “Aunts, uncles, grandparents. I think that’s Kat Karras’s sister and two of her kids. Damn. They aren’t screwing around.”

“Is that their lawyer?” I whisper.

“Yeah. Think that’s Gina Garcia. She’s not cheap. But if anyone’s going to fight the Summers family, she’s a good choice.”

Guilt. Shame. Sickness.

I watch the entire Karras family piling into several cars, patting Lucky on the back for support, looking serious yet positive, ready to fight for him, the boy who didn’t even do this thing, and, and—

“It was me,” I whisper into Evie’s hair.

The stool squeaks as she stiffens. Doesn’t say anything.

“I did it,” I whisper again. “I threw the rock. I broke the window.”

“What?” she mouths back at me, eyes big as moons as she quickly glances around the store to check where my mother is. And then again: “What?”

“I didn’t mean to break the window!” I whisper into my hands, watching Lucky’s head ducking inside his father’s truck. “I meant to hit the metal letters above the glass, but I guess my arm isn’t all that strong, and I missed. And Lucky had followed me there from the party on his bike. I guess he was worried that I was walking home alone, because we’d talked at the party. We barely even talked! Only for a few minutes. He said he was a bad flirter, and I didn’t even know we were flirting, and seriously, why does he have to be so hot now?”

“Oh, cuz.”

“We barely talked. I swear.”