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Back When We Were Bright and Beautiful Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. Part Two
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. Part Three
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. Epilogue
  68. Author’s Note
  69. Acknowledgments
  70. About the Author
  71. Also by Jillian Medoff
  72. About the Publisher

“My brother had those sheets,” I choke out. “Power Rangers.” For a second, I seize up. What if he asks me about Billy?

“The towel was a gift,” the guy says. “It’s vintage. Ebay, I think.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask about Billy. In fact, he doesn’t ask about anything.

For the next thirty minutes, I’m a wreck. How do wholesome people date? Finally, I decide to make a joke. We’ll laugh about our awkwardness, the horror of striking up conversation. But when I turn to speak to him, I realize that the whole time I’ve been spinning, he’s been asleep behind his stupid sunglasses.

23

I CHECK THE NEWS EVERY DAY FOR UPDATES ON BILLY’S case. My system is elaborate. I start with a Google search on my phone for any mention of my family. Then I read a hard copy of the New York Times I have delivered to my door. Back on my phone, I skim an app that aggregates stories from sources across the web. Finally, I scour every digital New Jersey paper, bulletin, and leaflet from Princeton down to Cape May.

The news is quiet so far. But on the last Friday of July, Lawrence makes a colossal blunder and the hits come so fast and furious the next morning that I have to call Nate.

My brother picks up immediately. We don’t bother with preliminaries. “You saw the news,” he says.

“I did, unfortunately,” I reply. “What happened?”

Nate tells me that Lawrence and Eleanor spent most of yesterday arguing. By late afternoon, Lawrence was fuming. The day had cooled down and the reporters were sparse, so he went for a walk. (“He just left the house?” I ask, stunned. Nate snorts. “He loves to bait the gods.”)

On the sidewalk, a stranger in a Mets cap sidled up to him. “Lawrence Quinn? I’m Raffi Alexander with PXN News New York—”

“No comment.” Lawrence turned back toward home.

“I’m on your side. What they’re doing to your boy is unconscionable.”

“No comment.”

“We all see what’s happening, Lawrence. Our sons are in the crosshairs. Every male over age twelve has a target on his back. Billy lost his future over a false accusation! Lawrence, what happened to innocent before proven guilty?”

Hearing this, Lawrence slowed down. “Thank you—what’s your name? Raffi?” He extended his hand. “Didn’t mean to be rude.”

“No apologies. Reporters are ruthless. Your restraint is impressive, Lawrence. If it was my family, I’d be shouting in the streets.”