I shake my head.

“The candles,” I murmur.

“Yeah, the can was full. Brand new. But—”

Ryan’s crying now. Head in his hands, rocking back and forth.

“I guess we spooked him. He confessed right away. To lighting the candles and holding them to your curtains, your bedsheets— He didn’t need the gasoline.”

Ryan’s whole body is shaking.

“I didn’t mean to—” he sputters, gestures to my face, and, meeting my eye, looks away.

Maybe it’s the look of horror—or disgust—at what he’s done and how he’s disfigured me that erases my pity. I feel my mouth harden.

“And Jay?” I spit, latching on to something other than my burns, the absurd notion that this sniveling boy is the cause of my suffering. “Is Ryan our driver? Is that why—?”

Oliver shakes his head.

“He has an alibi. He gave a, um—memorable—presentation in his history class that morning. Opposite side of campus. The professor, several of his classmates confirmed.”

Memorable for Ryan probably means his teeth chattering through it, staring wide-eyed at his peers, forgetting what he had on his notecards.

“Then why?” I repeat.

Ryan takes short, shallow breaths as he tries to compose himself. He clenches and unclenches his hands, looking at them like he’s never seen them before. “It was just to scare you,” he whispers.

“Scare me? Why? Because of Jay? Because we were getting close, and one of you killed him?”

Oliver glances sideways at me but doesn’t say anything.

Ryan shakes his head furiously and wraps his arms around his chest.

“Then why?” I lean in. I can’t touch him, but I want him to look at my face, to see my scars, the wounds his candles inflicted on my skin. “Did someone tell you to do it? Did Michael—?”

Ryan shakes his head again. “No,” he whimpers, the word catching in a sob. “He didn’t know. No one knew. It was me. Only me…”

“So what? You were just showing off? Trying to impress your brothers? To prove you could keep the big bad detective away?”

Spit clings to both sides of his mouth when he opens it, but then he shuts it again.

“Tell me.” My shout ends in a plea, and I hear the desperation, feel Oliver behind me, Teddy a few doors down. I lower my voice. “There has to be something more.” I just can’t believe it. It’s too extreme, too devastating. There must be a reason.

We wait in silence. Ryan wraps his arms around his entire body, squeezing his legs to his chest so he’s in the fetal position. He’s humming softly, the same as when we asked him about the basement this morning, but that feels like forever ago.

Oliver seems to think Ryan’s done talking. He walks around the table.

Ryan’s jaw moves, just a fraction.

“Wait,” I say.