I decided I would tell them the truth.

“I was supposed to graduate high school this week,” I told them. “But I ended up leaving home instead, because . . .” They formed a circle around me, leaning in closer like I was telling them a secret. “Because . . .” I got nervous. My mind raced through all the shit I’d have to explain: Jackson. The blackmail. My parents. I would have to explain the tallies, the signs, the culture. And suddenly, I wondered if these seasoned gay men maybe wouldn’t understand my situation—if they would judge me for not having the courage to just say the words. To come out to my parents like they had.

So I switched gears: “My parents kicked me out for being gay.”

Interrogation Room 37

Amir

I CAN’T HELP but notice that you keep staring at the cut on my face. It’s fresh, from yesterday morning, after my family found me in the mountains with Neil. There was a bit of a scuffle, as you’ve probably guessed. And it did get a little violent. But I’ll get to that later.

That was the last time I saw Neil. Yesterday. I saw Jahan three days ago. I saw Giovanni seven days ago.

Here’s the thing: I could have told them the truth. I could have told them the real reason I was in Rome when they were huddled around me, just like I’ve been telling it to you. But to tell them the truth would have been to admit to myself that I had abandoned my family. That I wasn’t brave, but a coward. No matter how many times I told myself that it wasn’t my fault, that Jake had hijacked my coming out, that the numbers just didn’t add up for my parents—I still felt like a terrible son.

And that’s why I’m ashamed, sir. More than you could know. But right now, I’m mostly ashamed about how everything blew up in the end.

Interrogation Room 38

Soraya

SOMETHING FROM THE vending machine? That’s very nice of you, ma’am—I mean, Officer. I was getting a little hungry. What are my options? I’ll definitely have the ice cream, yes. A chocolate éclair or ice cream sandwich, if you have either of those. Please don’t listen to my mother; I definitely want ice cream. Thank you. This is very yummy.

Actually, this reminds me of last summer—our last summer in Bethesda—of a time when Amir really pissed me off. There was an ice cream truck, one of those big white vans with pictures of all the different ice creams on the side, that would come into our neighborhood every morning in the summer. We knew it was coming because you could hear its loud jingle from inside the house, and the entire neighborhood would come running out. Amir and I had been going since we were kids. I was always surprised he never found it silly or juvenile as he got older, but I wasn’t going to complain.