Lachlan’s standing in front of a jet of water, drinking it in.

“Lachy, don’t do that, bud. The water’s from the tank, it’s not clean.”

He spits out the water, laughs as he jumps through the maze of sprays.

“I heard about the trial coming up,” he says. “I’ll be there, Luke, not that it matters. And I spoke to Principal Jenkins; he assures me that you and Lois are going to graduate regardless.”

Senior year.

Graduation.

It feels like a different life.

He asks, “How are Leo and Logan doing?”

I sigh. “Leo’s locked himself in his room. He refuses to talk about it, refuses to see Lane. And Logan’s going to therapy every day. It was tough on him.”

“Yeah,” Garray says. “They have that at school. The therapy. And now they’re installing metal detectors at the doors and adding a security guard. It didn’t even happen at the school.”

I nod, but it makes me furious that the actions of Cooper Kennedy have set off a chain of events at a school where my brothers will have to attend. I drop my gaze, look down at the flowers. “Thanks for the flowers,” I say.

He laughs once. Forced. “They’re not for you. They’re for Lois. I tried to see her, but they won’t let anyone in the room that’s not on the list.”

I face him, eyes narrowed. “The list?”

“They have a list at the desk.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t know?”

I shrug.

Brian calls, says, “Can you get to the hospital? I need your help.”

My heart pounds, and I look at Lachlan, look back at the house where Leo’s in his room, refusing to deal with reality.

Garray nudges me, somehow knowing what’s going on. “I’ll watch him,” he says. “Go.”

I cover the phone. “Are you sure?”

“We’ll have fun.”

I tell Brian I’ll be there soon and hang up. Then I tell Lachlan that Garray’s going to hang with him for a while. Garray spins on his heels and starts chasing Lachlan around the yard, through the sprinklers, fully clothed.

“You have a dumb name,” Lachlan cackles.

“Sure, Latch-Lan.”

“It’s not Latch-Lan. It’s Lock-Lan, Dumb Name!” He laughs again, harder and louder, and Garray picks him up, throws him over his shoulders.

I get in my car, look up at the house and wave to Leo watching us from his window.

He doesn’t wave back.

He never does.

It takes six minutes and fourteen seconds to get from my house to the hospital, less than it took from the hotel in an ambulance, sirens and all. I rush through the doors, now clear of media (because who cares about the girl who was shot by the rich kid, right?) and go straight to her room. Brian’s pacing, Lane’s sitting on the edge of her bed, her bags packed next to her. Her arms are crossed, her gaze distant. I speak to Brian, “What happened?”

He says, “She’s adamant on going home.”

“But the nurses said—”

“I know, Luke. I can’t get through to her. She’s just been sitting there, stubborn as hell.”

I crack a smile. “Like old times, huh?”

But he doesn’t find it funny. “I need to go for a walk, clear my head.”

He leaves, and I look at Lane again. She hasn’t changed positions, hasn’t stopped staring at the floor. I squat in front of her, take her hands in mine. “What’s going on, babe?”

She doesn’t look at me when she says, tone flat, “Do you know it costs us two grand a day just to be here? That doesn’t even include the surgery or the medicine or the fucking rehab I’m going to need for my leg.”

“I’m sure your dad’s just relieved you’re okay, Lane. All that stuff isn’t important right now.”

She shakes her head. “We can’t afford to pay that, Luke. Not now. Not ever. And you…” Her eyes finally meet mine, so sad, so distant. “Why didn’t you tell me about UNC pulling the scholarship?”

I sigh. “Because it’s not important, either.”

“It is important,” she grinds out, her eyes filling with tears. Her jaw tenses, her breaths becoming harsher and harsher until…

Until she stands up, picks up a vase and throws it across the room. “It is fucking important, and I’m sick of you all treating me like this!”

I stand, shocked, look over at the shattered glass. “Lane!”

She shoves my chest, and I fall back a step. “I’m sick of you coming here every day and pretending like everything’s going to be okay! You’re going to prison, Luke. You’re going to prison, and Dad has to take out more loans!” Another shove. I try to hold her, take her wrists, but she’s too wild, too angry, and I let her push me, over and over, her cries getting louder and louder. “I keep going back, keep trying to work out what the hell happened to me! How the fuck did I get here?” She stops pushing. Starts limping around the room. “I’ve ruined everyone’s life, Luke! Everyone’s! And I want to go home. We can’t afford for me to be here anymore!” She freezes, turns to me, her eyes on mine. “And you need to go to UNC! Even without the scholarship, you can still go, right? You can’t stay for me! I won’t let you!”

“Laney.” I try to breathe through the pain. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Jesus Christ,” a woman says, and my gaze snaps to the door, to Mrs. Kennedy standing there and how the fuck long has she been here? How much has she heard? She says, “Lois, you’re bleeding.”

I look back at Lane now sitting on the bed, looking down at her abdomen. The blood seeps through her blue hospital gown onto her hands. Blood everywhere. Blood everywhere.

“Lucas, call for a nurse,” Mrs. Kennedy orders.

I find what little strength I have left, put one foot in front of the other, find a nurse in the hallway and take her back to Laney’s room.

“What happened?” the nurse says, looking between Mrs. Kennedy and me and the broken vase on the floor, shattered, just like my heart. Whoever said the truth sets you free is a fucking liar. It cages you, keeps you locked in your head with no escape.

I don’t speak. There’s nothing I can say. Nothing I can do.

“Lois,” says the nurse. “You’ve torn your stitches.”

“Leave it,” Lane snaps.

“We have to sew it back up and stop the bleeding.”

“Just smack a Band-Aid on it so I can go home,” Lane tells her. “It’ll heal fine.”

“Is she ready to go home?” Mrs. Kennedy asks, and why is she here?

The nurse shakes her head. “Not even close.”

I stand by the door, my hands behind my back, look down at the floor.

“I didn’t mean it,” Lois cries.

“You didn’t mean to break the vase?” the nurse asks. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll clean up.”

“No… Luke!”

I lift my gaze.

She’s covering her mouth, muffling her cries. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”