Liam shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and jittered his legs restlessly.

“I know it’s been a few weeks, but all I can think about is the schoolyard fire. I can’t sleep. Black Ryan wants to confess. I want to confess. But then Bruce will kill me. He’ll kill both of us.”

“But you didn’t really do anything, right?”

Liam shook his head. It was exhausting just thinking about it.

Shy sat up and turned to face him. Her blue eyes were enormous. She looked pretty in the twilight, but also a little fucked up. “Then you should be the one to confess first. Just tell someone what happened. Exactly the way it happened. You won’t be punished for being honest. Forget about Bruce. He’s disgusting.”

“Yeah,” Liam said. “I guess.” And the more stoned he felt, the more he decided what Shy said was right. He hadn’t started the fire, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. He had to come forward and confess so he could get a decent night’s sleep.

“Oh God.” He grabbed Shy’s hand and squeezed it hard, bouncing his feet up and down, overcome by paranoia and nervous exhaustion. “How does my mom smoke this stuff? She’s a maniac. Seriously. I’m freaking out.”

Shy walked Liam home and then went home herself. She was still so high, and trembling with cold, and trembling because she was pretty sure Liam wasn’t just her tutor anymore. They might even be in love. In the dimly lit library, her father sat very straight in his chair. He looked like he was concentrating.

“Hi, Daddy.” Shy walked up behind him and read the words on his computer screen. “Mars, really? Did you know Mars is the Roman god of war?”

Roy was in deep space with Ceran, Bettina, and Isabel and didn’t notice how stoned she was.

“Is it?” He ruminated on this little factoid, wondering how he could work it in. His teenage Martian colonists were at war with everyone on Earth who had stolen their privacy and with the rich Russians who were trying to steal their gold.

“It was on Mr. Streko’s Twitter. Oh, and I’m thinking of joining the table tennis team. Mr. Streko is the coach, and Mum said I need extracurricular activities for college.”

“That’s fine. Sorry, I’m distracted. Did you have a nice afternoon?” Her father looked up with a vague smile. “How’s Liam?”

“He’s a mess.” Shy yawned. “I’m going to go stare at my homework. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.”