Zach continues, “He’s a little…Well, the past year, maybe more than that…he’s…” He trails off and squints out the window for a long moment. I stay silent. I’ve been there—not knowing how to explain something about my family to an outsider. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, he doesn’t go out much. At all. He’s…I don’t know.” He sighs in frustration. “Depressed, maybe? Or just totally checked out? Either way, he doesn’t work, doesn’t do much except hang around here being useless. And on top of that, we’ve had some people sort of…vandalize? Our house? Since my mom took the case? And he’s been no help at all.”

My blood freezes in my veins. I force my face to remain immobile.

He’s looking at me; I need to say something. “That sucks.” I choke out the words.

Lucky for me, Zach’s way too deep in his own brain thinking about his messed-up family to consider my messed-up reaction.

“Yeah, it’s been pretty brutal. I’ve tried to protect Gwen from the brunt of it—like, one night a few weeks ago, someone spray-painted the word BITCH on our garage in this freaky red paint, and it was like something out of a horror movie, all dripping red lines. It looked like blood, you know? I tried to keep her inside the house, but she ran right past me….And my dad left it there for the entire fucking day. Conor and I had to paint over it after school.” He drops his head onto the steering wheel and takes a deep inhale.

When he looks up, he gives me a sad, shaky little smile, and I want to puke on the floor of the car. I’m tempted to open my mouth and scream IT WAS ME! just to get it out there. But the words stick in my throat, and I know that I won’t, that it would just make everything worse. All I can do is sit here next to this guy whose life I made miserable for months on end and reach out and hug him.

On second thought, the epitaph on my tombstone should read: May McGintee: She Sucked.

Chapter Forty-one

It’s surreal, having May at my house. Even before my mom took the case, I wasn’t into having friends over. Back when Rosa and I dated, it got to the point where she thought I was embarrassed about her, because I never invited her to my house. Finally, one afternoon I gave in, and when we got to the house the kitchen was a disaster and my dad was sleeping on the couch in his bathrobe. I think that was the beginning of the end of his attempt at a career as a professional musician.

I can’t believe I invited May here.