My father never went after Lily after she left. Nineteen. She was legally an adult, but he was so angry I could never understand why he didn’t just go to the police and make them track her down. I don’t know why he didn’t make it hard for her. But then I think … as long as he had something to hurt it must’ve been okay that she was gone. Cary wanted to use Harrison as bait and the Caspers got in the way. The Caspers thought Cary should stand in front of them. They thought he was expendable. The man outside, he was expendable. He didn’t mean anything to me. Was I expendable? Was I Lily’s bait?

I go to the bathroom and splash water on my face. My head feels awful. When I finally get to the auditorium, I stretch out on my mat. Grace is on Trace’s mat and Trace and Harrison are across the room, eating a bag of chips. Harrison is talking and Trace is actually listening to him. Trace must feel bad about bringing the wrath of Cary down on Harrison or else he’s really drunk because I can’t think of any other reason why he’d care what Harrison has to say.

Harrison was supposed to die.

“How bad is he?”

Grace’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Who?”

“Cary,” she says.

“Why do you care?”

“Just tell me how he is.”

I want to tell her he’s bad. I want to tell her Cary’s not the guy she thinks he is, that he’s simultaneously better and worse than anything she’s imagined, but I can’t.

“He was crying his eyes out.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’ve never seen a boy cry like that before. Not even Harrison.”

She considers this. “But he’s wasted, so it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe it’s the only way it could come out.”

“Sure.”

I can’t deal with this. Her. The pounding in my head. Trace. Cary. Her. Harrison is supposed to be dead. I’m supposed to be dead.

“You and Trace make a game out of hating Cary. He feels it.”

“You think I should forgive him? You think that’s important now?”

“I think you still have something and he doesn’t have anything and he told you both he was sorry.” I close my eyes. There is no buzz anymore, if there ever was, just tiredness curdling my blood. “And I think he is.”

“He only said it once.”

“Is it going to make a difference if he says it a million times?”

“I never saw him cry.”

“Then go into the nurse’s office.”

“You’re not being fair.”

“He said—” I stop, and then I lie. Maybe it will help. “He said it should’ve been him.”

“He didn’t.”

“Fine, Grace.” I roll onto my side, putting my back to her. “He didn’t.”