“Shock,” a doctor later told my dad, after he told him I waited two whole days before saying anything. “He must have been in shock.”

It was actually five days, but no one questioned him. No one ever questions sad ol’ Chief McAllister. It probably didn’t help that I confirmed it for them.

I think about the lady with the binder who was just here. She said she was from some place called Child Protective Services. A welfare check, she called it. I didn’t know what that meant, but whatever it was had my dad kneeling before me earlier, face beat-red and sweating bullets, as he gripped me by the shoulders and begged me to tell them exactly what I told the doctor.

“They’ll take you away.”

He told me how I’d never see my friends again. I’d never see Ivy or Uncle Reg. He told me that I’d have it much worse in the system, whatever that is. He said they’re mean to orphaned kids, and that’s what I’d be if I got taken away.

He said I’d be alone.

He said he was sorry. That he just wanted me to be a good boy. That Momma would be so sad if I got taken away from him.

He never says sorry. He never talks about Momma unless it’s to remind me I killed her.

So I lied.

I lied right to the lady’s face.

I don’t think she believed me. She looked a lot like how Will did last week when he first saw my arm. My stomach gets all twisted up just thinking about it. It makes me angry. Furious.

I hate him, I think. That must be what this feeling is, because I want to hurt Will. Make him pay.

I know it’s not really his fault. I messed up this time. I should have told my dad it was broken as soon as it happened. I should have insisted on going to the hospital then and there, so Will would have never thought to suspect someone was hurting me. I could have just said I fell, and he would have believed me.

Not that it would have mattered. Our friendship was over the second my dad threatened to call his parents and tell them what he saw. Us holding hands. I didn’t want Will to get punished too, so I begged. I begged and I begged for my dad to not call them.

I couldn’t let Will get hurt, too, just because we were too young and stupid to think boys could like other boys. I knew better. In the books I read, it’s always a girl and boy. Movies too.

I just don’t see what the big deal is. Who cares?