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But then again, if the situation were reversed, how would I want everything to play out?
My eyes darted all over as I ventured inside. It wasn’t particularly untidy, but it wasn’t nearly as clean as when I’d been there last. A pizza box sat on one countertop, lid closed. I saw a few half-empty water bottles, and the collection of tools by the door remained.
The mess seemed to make Harry nervous, because I watched as he glanced around the space, probably wishing he’d had a second to hide it all. “We can sit on the couch,” he offered, swiping his palms against his thighs. The gray sweatpants he wore were loose—and I realized it was the first time I’d seen him in something other than ripped jeans. “Or we can stand. W-Wherever you want.”
“The couch works,” I said.
Gosh, this was so awkward—I had no idea how to act around him, how to feel. What to say. So many unknowns, so much uncertainty. And I hated it.
His actions were stiff as he led us to his living room, and he held himself rigid, tension running through his veins. Despite the strained atmosphere, his eyes were wide and open, so much emotion in their depths that it almost caught me off-guard.
“My dad showed me the letter,” I told him once we both settled, my hands folded formally over my knees. I fully dived into this conversation. No turning back. “He wouldn’t tell me anything else, but he showed me the letter. Your letter.”
“Okay.” Harry touched the skin of his neck, tracing his tattoo. “What did you think?”
“That your handwriting needs some work.”
A small smile flitted across his mouth.
“I want you to tell me everything from the beginning.” The couch creaked as I leaned back against it, torn between looking at him and looking away. “I want to understand.”
His nod was jerky, and his whole body shifted, all rigid lines positioned so his hands folded over his knees, moving like a puppet on strings. A more severe dose of anxiety flashed across his features, a static glare in his gaze.
“Um, so, it was New Year’s Eve. Last year. I was home alone—Jeff, my cousin, had taken his family to some party his work threw—and one of my friends texted me. Leo. He asked if I wanted to go driving with them.”
“Driving?” I echoed, feeling my brow furrow.
“We did that. We’d just drive around, listening to music. I didn’t want to be home alone on New Year’s Eve and figured we’d end up at a party somewhere. Leo always knew someone who was throwing a party. When they got to the house, I immediately thought something felt…different.” Harry stopped looking at me then, eyes darting on anythingbutme, almost as if he were seeing the scene unfold instead of the room in front of him. “I got into the back seat, and Terry looked at me in the rearview mirror—he was driving. He said that I needed to stay home.”
As he spoke, voice a soft sort of nervous, I tried to picture the scene in my head—the car, the friends, the voices. “He knew,” I guessed.
“Yeah, he knew. I didn’t. I laughed at him and put my seat belt on—as if I’d stay home on New Year’s.” Harry swallowed hard. I wondered how often he’d told this story before. At least in this depth. “We drove around for a little while before Gage said he wanted to stop at a gas station. Terry pulled into the closest one, and I started to get out of the car. I figured I’d get a pop or something while we were there, you know? Why not?”M
My body clenched, guessing what came next. Did I want to hear it? Did I want to know? By how nauseated I felt, I wasn’t sure that I did. And by the pale look of Harry’s cheeks, it seemed he didn’t want to say it.
I’d already dived into the deep end. No turning back.
“Terry turned around and grabbed my arm. I remember it hurt, so much that I thought he was trying to break my wrist. He told me I needed to stay in the car but didn’t say why.” Harry’s fingers moved to bracelet his wrist now, tracing the echo of the memory. “Leo grabbed my other arm and pulled me from the car, though. Said that my pop would be on him. That it was a late Christmas present. I remember laughing—only Leo would consider a pop a Christmas present.”
Leo sounded a lot like Margot.
Harry curled his fingers into fists before relaxing them, trying to stop the quivering. “I was picking out a drink when Leo and Gage pulled out the face masks, the kind that curl around your ears. Leo grabbed my face and put one on me before I even knew what they were doing. Gave me a plastic gun. Everything happened so fast. I remember looking at it, thinking he was joking.”
Harry in a face mask, Harry holding a gun.
“God, I…” Harry sighed harshly, eyes brightening as he looked at me, the blue electric, almost as if they were highlighted by a sheen of tears. “I just followed them to the front, holding the stupid thing. Looking at it like I couldn’t figure out what it was. It was like I couldn’t even move my body. Like there was some disconnect from what was happening. Destelle, Iswear, I never lifted it, never didanything.”
The pain in his eyes was clear, pinching at his face. It knocked the air from my lungs. “Harry—”
“They had to drag me out once they realized I wasn’t moving,” he said, rushing on, not letting me speak. His words started coming faster, like a faucet flowing, unable to stop. “Even on the video footage from the station, you could see them dragging me out. I left the pop on the counter. And Leo and Gage couldn’t stop laughing while they were counting the money, like—like they were crazed. I mean, they’d broken into cars before—maybe stole a package or two off someone’s porch—butneveranything like this. I tried so hard to keep from crying. I remember being so afraid when Terry looked in the rearview, afraid he’d see and tell them.”
“Did he?” I asked, wondering if Harry then looked like Harry now. Electric eyes, a watery sheen to them.
He shook his head. “They stopped at another gas station, but I stayed in the car that time with Terry. Terry was the one who called the police, actually. He was offered a deal for his cooperation—that’s why he was out so soon. He told me to get out and get away from them while I could, but there was no way. I—I was there for it. I deserved the punishment as much as anyone else.”
Harry had a clear opportunity to run away and didn’t take it.I deserved the punishment. In all honesty, he probably could’ve gotten away with leaving. Only three guys robbed the first one—they could’ve assumed the third was Terry. It could’ve been a done deal. But Harry had stayed behind. Faced the music.
Out of everything he’d said since we’d sat down, that sounded the most like the boy I knew.
