Sam looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. My heart starts pounding really fast, and I get that elevator-drop stomach again. I shouldn’t have brought this up. I shouldn’t keep sabotaging the few things that allow me to cling to my ever-dwindling sanity.
I am such a moron.
“I think about what happened to Noah—not just what happened, but what they did to him—every day. I was mad at you. I am mad. But—” He stops and sighs. “Asha told me you didn’t know what they were going to do to him,” he says. “Is that true?”
I nod. I didn’t know, but—
It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t said anything.
“Probably not,” he agrees. “But if you hadn’t said anything to the cops…who knows if they would’ve been caught. Andy never saw them. Noah doesn’t even remember.”
So he has talked to Noah about this. Or someone has, anyway.
I’m glad the police found the bloody ice scraper in Warren’s truck bed. I’m glad he and Joey both confessed. Otherwise it would just be my word against theirs—but now it’s no secret. Everyone knows. I mean, I assume there’s probably going to be a trial, eventually, though it could take months. And I’m sure I’ll have to testify, even if the very idea makes me want to throw up. I’m not really clear on how all of that is supposed to go down; Mom and Dad hired a lawyer who has been dealing with most of the mess. One they couldn’t afford before and definitely can’t afford now that Dad is jobless.
I still find it unbelievable that this happened at all. I know Warren and Joey were totally drunk, but it’s one thing to joke about that stuff and another altogether to act on it. To track a boy down like—like an animal and just kick the shit out of him because of who he is.
“Just tell me—are you sorry?” Sam asks. “And I don’t mean are you sorry for what it cost you. Are you sorry for what you did? For what happened to Noah?”