We are at Ms. Silverthorn’s, drinking hot chocolate. Chaz sits on one side of me, Ma Elena on the other, and Ernie sits on an ottoman, his foot bouncing madly. He was pacing for a while, but then he knocked over an end table and then, trying to recover from that, backed into the wall and wiped out James Baldwin. (That explains the new frame!) Ms. Silverthorn told him to sit down, and he did, but he’s fretting.

Ernie has now said, “If I had come with you …” so many times that it’s useless to rebut. He doesn’t know about the kiss yet. In his mind, since we were only alone together because he was afraid to be seen with such flamboyant creatures, it’s his fault. In a way, he’s not wrong. Gordo and the goons might have been less likely to take on three of us. But I get it. Ernie didn’t know he was trading his safety for ours. His fear didn’t throw rocks or lower me over the edge of a cliff—their hate did that for itself.

Chaz has been nearly wordless since I got here. He gave me a brief, tired hug, but he has been mostly withdrawn. I think about the stories I heard that he killed himself after being tormented, and I wonder if I have saved him or only moved the deadline. I squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you got away.”

He looks at me searchingly, violet irises dark. “Did I, though?” I don’t know what to say. “When my folks hear about this, it’s all over. Forget New York.”

Ms. Silverthorn is firm. “You will go to New York, Charles Lawson Wilson, and I will make sure of it.” His name is Charles!?

A rap at the door makes us freeze. When Ms. Silverthorn answers, it is the older officer again, but this time with Frohmeyer at his side. The officer asks to see Chaz and me. “We’ve taken the other boys down to the station for more questioning.” He pauses, a little uncomfortable. “You should know that they deny it all.”

“How can you believe them? Why would I do that to myself?”

“Hold your horses, Silverthorn,” Frohmeyer interjects. “Danny here’s just telling you what they said.” Clearly, the officer and the principal have known each other for a long time, and just as clearly, “Danny” doesn’t like Frohmeyer using his first name in official business. “You think we’re so old we can’t tell when a kid’s lying?”

“Oh, I, uh—”

“Clowns didn’t even change, so now they’re sitting downtown in stocking feet with their muddy dress shoes in an evidence room.”

“What your principal means to say is that we have them detained, but we’re going to need you to come down for official statements yourselves.”