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“I’m one of your counselors.” My voice cracked. “I’m supposed to fucking protect you.”

Trevor’s face dropped, and Mason pulled him closer into his chest.

Darius stepped towards me, but I backed away. “You weren’t fucking there. Again,” I reminded him. “And apparently I don’t notice things until somebody other than my-fucking-self gets hurt, so fuck me too.”

“That’s not fair,” Dee said.

“No.” I shook my head. “It fucking isn’t.”

Then I walked away. My eyes finally open and the tears blurring the world around me as I headed to the fucking dock.

CHAPTER 26

Alvin walked away from me. His shoulders were rigid. His fists were closed. Blood had dried on his skin. Though I was pretty certain it was the kid’s and not his. Or maybe it was both…

I wanted to follow him. And I wanted to find the campers who had done this and make them understand, in whatever language they spoke, exactly what it felt like to be the scared little boy Alvin and I both knew too well. Because that scared little boy was in each of us.

Instead, I stood in the middle of the infirmary with Alvin’s words floating around in my head.

You weren’t fucking there. Again. He was right.

Trevor sat curled against Mason’s side, still staring at the floor. Mason’s arm was wrapped around him, but not tightly. He kept adjusting his hold whenever Trevor shifted, giving him room without letting him feel abandoned either.

It was careful. Instinctive. I had seen that before. Not with Mason and Trevor. But with me and Alvy.

The memory hit so hard I almost took a step backwards.

We were thirteen. Maybe fourteen. Old enough for Alvin to be embarrassed about crying and young enough that he still believed no one could tell if he wiped at his face really hard.

I’d found him behind the shed after dinner. He was sitting in the weeds with his knees drawn to his chest, one sleeve pulled over his hand. His cheek swollen. And there was a split in his lower lip that matched the cut his old man’s wedding band had left above his eye.

I hadn’t known what to do. I’d been raised to solve things. To fix them. To make the right choices and execute ʼem without hesitation. There had been no correct choice with Alvin. I’m not sure there ever had been. And if there had, it wasn’t one I’d ever made…

“Did you fall off your bike or something?” I asked. Even though I knew he hadn’t. Sometimes he needed the excuse, and more than that, he needed me to pretend I believed it.

Alvy glared at me through wet lashes. He had the prettiest lashes. I blinked that thought away.

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

That was how I knew he was hurt. Alvin only told people to shut up when he was too hurt to think of anything else to say. I dropped beside him in the weeds. Careful not to crowd him. My best friend hated being crowded when he was upset. I knew that even then.

For a while, we both just sat there playing with random sprigs of grass. The cicadas screamed around us. The traffic continued to drive back and forth across the road, and the wind rustled the couple of branches that cut over the fence from the neighbor’s yard.

“Did he do that?” I jutted my chin towards his face.

“Please, Dee.” Alvin’s hand tightened around his sleeve. I looked over at him. He wasn’t asking me not to care. He was asking me not to make him say it.

I took a bandana out of my pocket and held it out to him. “Your face is bleeding.”

“I know how cuts work, Dingle Fart.”

“Clearly not.” I grinned at him.

His glare narrowed in on me, but he snatched the bandana out of my hand. He pressed it to his mouth and winced.

I wanted to tell him I would kill his father. I wanted to tell him I would call someone. A teacher. The police. My ma. Anyone who could stop this shit from happening. But I knew what Alvin had told me the last time I’d suggested getting an adult involved.

No one would believe me. Pastor Carter’s word was law. Except it was more than that too. It was God. And everyone in this town took God serious.