“It’s Robbie’s fault it wasn’t Robbie,” someone blurts out, and oh crap, that was me. “Y’all keep acting like Jack stole something from him, but—”

Cool air rushes to my skin as Cara shoves away from me, and Miguel immediately swoops in. “Clearly someone’s had enough to drink,” he says as he pulls me to my feet. “Just how I like ’em,” he adds with a wink.

Thank God, his gross humor actually works and a few people laugh, failing to notice I haven’t even opened the can in my hand, while a few others—including Cara—stare at me in horror. I’ve taken their lord’s name in vain, apparently. Which is ridiculous, because I haven’t said a single word that isn’t true, but no one’s ready to talk about that yet. And Jack being quarterback has given them yet another excuse to avoid it. Because it’s so much easier to channel their anger at her than it is to get pissed at their friend for drinking and driving.

This is the Atherton Alligators’ grieving process, and God help anyone who tries to disrupt it.

Miguel’s hand on my back steers me into Zach’s yard, and he automatically drapes his varsity jacket over my shoulders as soon as we find a quiet corner. “Loud—”

“I know.” I blow air into the cool wind through pursed lips, wishing it were chilly enough outside for it to curl into smoky vapor and let me feel like I’m setting something free. “They’re still in their state of Robbie delusion. I know.”

“We have to let them have this,” he says quietly, holding my hands as if to keep them warm. But I feel the truth of his grip in his shaking fingers. “No matter how much it hurts.”

We’re both quiet for a moment, and finally I let our truth into the air. “He was a homophobic asshole.”

Miguel nods stiffly. “He was.”

“And he can’t blackmail you anymore.”

“No, he can’t.”

“And he can’t hurt you anymore.”

Miguel lets go of my hands and slides his arms around me instead, and I hug him fiercely to calm his entire body’s shuddering. “No, he can’t. That fucker is dead.” He smiles into my hair. “And he was replaced by a girl.”

“Mig…”

“A girl who’s ten times the quarterback he ever was.”

“A girl whose window I’d like to climb through again,” I murmur, keeping my voice too low for him to hear but wishing it would somehow penetrate anyway, just to clear the air.

It doesn’t.

“Mami taught me better than to wish someone was burning in hell.”

“Dania would’ve sent him to hell herself if she knew what he put you through.”