“But seriously, cool it with the headbutting from here on out.”

“I didn’t want to be kidnapped again.”

“I mean, that’s fair.” She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

His eyes lingered on hers, making her stomach flip-flop in a pleasant way. She moved a little closer to him, until her knees touched his.

“Your nose isn’t broken, is it?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Good. It’s a nice nose.”

He smiled again. “Thank you.” His fingers brushed the hand she had on her knee, and she didn’t move away.

“I guess you’ve ruined your streak, huh?” she said. “Of not fighting since middle school? Your parents would make you write another essay if they were here.”

“I would title it ‘Why Declan Deserved It.’ Alternate title, ‘I Hurt Myself as Much as I Hurt Him, So Please Give Me a Break.’ ”

She laughed. “I’d read either of those.” She moved her fingers, letting them barely intertwine with his. It was getting harder not to touch him. “I’ve actually been wondering what you plan on telling your parents. About everything that’s happened to you here.”

“Are there things you don’t want me to say?”

“No.” She winced. “Well, I wouldn’t mind you leaving out the border patrol.”

“Don’t worry, already planned on that.”

“Thank you. But I actually meant more about you specifically. Like, do you want to tell them about headbutting Declan? About shooting that patrol guy? About throwing a Molotov cocktail? Are they going to judge you for that?”

He looked down at their joined fingers and was quiet for a moment. “Maybe? I think they might tell me that they understand that I did what I had to do. But…”

She moved her thumb across his hand. “But?”

“But I actually think it’ll be used against me, in a way.” He winced. “I don’t mean that to sound as bad as it does. I just mean that my parents were always telling us that we didn’t get to do things in private, the way other kids did. People were always watching, and everything that I did reflected back on my dad. It’s sort of why I was such a pain in the ass when I was younger, because I was so annoyed by that. I didn’t choose to be the son of a wildly famous congressman. He chose that for me.

“So even though they’ll be understanding, there’s also a part of them that’s going to be disappointed. If I tell them the truth, their faces will fall, like they always do. They won’t get the story they want, which would be something about me making friends in here and rising above the violence or whatever fantasy they have out there about how they’d act if the situation were reversed. And then we’ll have to come up with some media narrative that’s a shiny, highly edited version of the truth. Might as well just skip the truth altogether and give them what they want.”