While the grown-ups around him went back and forth, Will thought about a tubing trip they’d taken down the river last summer. He’d missed the main channel of the wing dam and had instead gone over where the water crested the low concrete arm of the dam. It was only a short, exhilarating slide down, but at its base the usually placid surface of the Delaware turned back on itself, creating an eddy where the water flowed briefly upstream, pinning Will and his tube back against the dam. The force of the water wasn’t strong enough to pull him under, but the constant circular churn of the river made it impossible for him to move forward either. He was stuck there, pushing helplessly against the base of the dam, until his brother, Trip, paddled over in his kayak and pulled him out.

He’d had a similarly powerless feeling ever since the night of the party. From the moment he’d thrown the hammer through the glass door, he’d been stuck reliving that night over and over; until his waking and dreaming mind converged into one endless loop of hope, then fear, then despair; unable to move forward or change course. Now, at least, he had an answer: He had to take the plea, and he wasn’t going to Princeton in the fall. He was going to jail.

“Will!” His mother had apparently said his name a few times. He looked over at her blankly. “What do you want to do?”

Will opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. He felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. He looked at his lawyer, who didn’t look too happy. “Can we have a few minutes here?” Ed asked the DA.

When Murray and the DA stepped away from the table, Ed leveled with them. “It’s not a bad deal,” he said, “all things considered. With a three-month sentence, Will could be out in thirty days.”

“What about the restitution payment?” his father asked, and Ed looked through his file. “That’s going to be steep,” he said. “The last total figure I saw was over five hundred thousand dollars. But the final individual amounts will be decided by the court.”

His father shook his head. “A small fortune. Down the drain.”

“It’s a lot of money,” Ed agreed. “But you don’t want to spin the roulette wheel on that. If they’re going to apportion the payments, Will could be on the hook for much more if it goes to trial and the judge wants to make an example out of him. Not to mention the possibility of Will doing a lot more time. Three months sounds long, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not. Will can serve his time, get out, and move on with his life.”

“But not college,” his mother said quietly. “Not Princeton, anyway.”