“I thought—” Dad clears his throat. “I thought I told you to be careful about hanging out with her. Because of what happened.”

I lift my chin. “And what did happen?”

Dad’s skin flushes red, and he clears his throat again. “Don’t be smart with me, young lady. Your mother and I are trying to talk to you. You know we can’t afford for you to get into any trouble. Especially not—”

“Because of what happened.” My eyes meet his. I can see the surprise. I’m not the type of kid who has ever finished sentences.

“I’m warning you, Quinn,” Dad says.

Mom grips his arm. “Daniel,” she hisses.

“What?” he says. “She’s being ridiculous.”

I sit up farther, which makes Cupcake jumps off the bed. I wish she wouldn’t leave.

“I—I—I—” I wince. This isn’t the time for a Freeze-Up.

Dad waves his hand in the air. It’s a simple gesture, a slight brushing, but it sets off something inside of me. The hot lava.

“You’re the one who killed things for fun. You had the guns for that, right? For fun! And I’m the one who is being ridiculous? How come—” My teeth are almost chattering from the burning that’s swimming around inside me. “How come we never talk about that? How come we never talk about anything? We just pretend. And maybe that’s what I was doing in the woods. Pretending.”

Saying those words aloud makes me feel so alone. I really wish Cupcake was still next to me. I wish anyone was next to me. I hug my stomach and breathe through the tears that I can’t stop anymore. My face burning with shame as I cry.

“Oh, honey,” Mom says. She takes a tiny step toward me, but she still feels miles away.

“I saw Parker with the guns,” I say. “I saw him. I knew.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom repeats. “No. No, you didn’t.”

“I did.” I put my hands over my face. The tears won’t stop. “It’s my fault.”

Mom sits down next to me. She doesn’t hug me, but it feels good to know she’s closer. “It’s not your fault, Quinn.”

“But I knew.” When I look up, I see that Dad is still standing in the doorway. His eyes are glossy and unfocused, and he’s fiddling with his watch.

Mom shakes her head firmly. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t know you felt that way. Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

I press the heel of my hand against my eyes. “How would you? You never let me talk.”

She leans away from me. “That’s not true, honey. I’ve always been so patient with you. You can’t say that.”

“I just did.”

“Okay, well—”

“Mom, we never talk about what actually happened. We never talk about why it happened. We pretend like it didn’t. No one in this family ever takes any responsibility. And it’s—” I pull at clumps of my hair. “It’s hurting me.”

“Oh, oh, oh,” Mom says. She puts her hand over her mouth. “I don’t know what to say.”