She hooted, grabbed his arm, and swung her laugh against his shoulder. “Theater therapy! What’s next? Come on, Sammy. Please. Don’t start on that again. Just don’t start. Let’s not talk about it.” Clutching her forehead, she turned fast, as if she couldn’t stand looking at him any longer, and settled a fierce gaze on Maggie. “So. No more Carlton College?”

Uneasiness rippled down her spine. “Not for now.”

“Hmm.”

Maggie stepped back toward the truck.

“Can I ask you a question?”

No. Maggie knew from experience what it would be. “Did they really do that to you?” or “Did that actually happen?” What people meant was “Are you a liar?” Variations on the same question—all painful. Sort of like asking a discharged veteran, “Did you kill anyone over there?” Maggie had mastered the blank face, had learned to ignore the questions.

But she was out of practice. She took another backward step toward the truck.

Sam put a hand on Linnie’s arm.

She shook him off. “I just want to know why she left.” To Maggie: “That’s the only part I didn’t like. Everything else…” She splayed and closed her hand in a conjuror’s way. “Perfect. Those boys”—she shook her head—“they didn’t see you coming, did they? I mean, look at you. A skinny thing.” She smirked. “They probably thought, this is going to be so easy. But you called them out. Every fucking one of them. I read about it, how the police blew you off and the prosecutors didn’t want to file charges, so you reported it to the university. Then the assholes, one after the other, punted out of college.” She whistled. “You were so strong. Determined, you know? I can’t imagine having the guts to do that. I just can’t imagine.” She shook her head again, bemused.

Maggie stared. She wasn’t used to hearing support. “They should have gone to prison.”

Linnie nodded. “They should have. But you. You should have stayed right where you were. Why did you leave?”

Because she hated being hated. And recognized by everyone. A notorious spectacle. “Enough people wanted me to.”

“Fuck them. You shouldn’t have run away.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sam muttered. “You run away all the time.”

She glanced at him coolly. “Away? Away from what? A home I’ve never had? I just run.”

“You had Kate and me.”

Linnie swallowed and ground the toe of her sneaker into a crack in the pavement. “You’re better off without me.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue. He looked defeated. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he frowned over his shoulder. “I’ve got to pack up the place.”

“Moving in with your dad?”

“Yeah. Want to get your things?”

She peered up at the ugly house, distantly, as if she hardly recognized it. “No. Toss it if you don’t want it.”

“You sure?”