“Why wouldn’t I?” he said, his voice sounding different—lower, sadder—and for a very short second I felt like I was getting the real Sheffield, a boy with no schemes or plans or power plays. A boy who wasn’t good at sports, who wasn’t strong or creative or funny, who developed the art of manipulation out on the elementary school recess field from sheer, sad loneliness.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who does anything that won’t benefit him in some way.”

He frowned, and then nodded. “I guess I get that. Maybe I wanted to help you out. Maybe you asked me for something and I could help you, so I did. Or maybe I just one day, maybe, want to call in a favor.”

They all felt partially true.

I watched him drive off. Neither Connor nor I said anything right away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should never have gone along with them.”

“I know,” I said, and I smiled, because I really did understand, but I also didn’t have anything else to say to him. I got into the car and after a few seconds he walked back to his own.

“I want Indian food,” Solomon said, startling me. He was laying down in the back seat.

“How long have you been back there?”

He shrugged.

“Indian food sounds really good, actually,” I said.

I watched Connor’s car pull out of the parking lot. Midafternoon, and already the shadows had swallowed us up. Soon the sun would set. We’d be alone in the dark. Winter was halfway there.

“It was me,” I said. “I called Child Protective Services, told them where you’ve been sleeping.”

“I know,” he said. “Of course I know that.”

“How did you—”

“Ash,” he said, and Don’t be stupid was implied in his tone of voice. “There’s no one else who cares enough about me to snitch.”

He chuckled. I couldn’t tell if he’d had to make himself do that.

“You’re not mad?”

Solomon shrugged. “I was for a little while. When I found you on that beach, I was fully intending to curse you out. But when I saw that asshole about to hurt you, I realized my anger wasn’t meant for you. I love you.”

I breathed in, out. Relief flooded me, and shame. “I’m so worried about you, Solomon. That’s why I did it.”

“I know.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said. “To CPS. So you won’t be alone.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice shrinking, and I could almost hear the fear pressing down on his chest. “I’ll think about it.”

“We’ll have to drive down to Red Hook,” I said. “For Indian food.”

“That’s cool?” he asked. His hands were behind his head and he was smiling.