They call me a hero.

But to me, I’ll always be the guy who shot his best friend. Some nights, when the air is still and the house is quiet, I can hear it. The whisper of metal on metal as the hammer is pulled back on the gun. Everything comes rushing back. The way the gun felt heavy in my hand. The pungent smell of blood filling my lungs. My finger slipping as I pulled the trigger, slick from my own blood. And most of all, the way Jason’s blood splattered my face as the bullet hit him.

I tell people I blacked out after that, but I remember it all. The screams. The feeling of panic and remorse and terror all at the same time, ripping my heart into a million bloody pieces. When they ask, I tell them the pain from my own bullet wound intensified and I collapsed. Sometimes, I feel bad for lying. But the truth won’t change anything.

“And how are you feeling today, Jack?” Mr. Levine asks, not looking up from his computer.

“Fine,” I reply in a huff, already eyeballing the clock. It hasn’t even been a minute yet.

“Are you still having nightmares?”

That’s the only kind of dream I have, well, if I sleep at all. “Nope.”

“Good, good.” Mr. Levine stares at his computer during most of our meetings. I assume he’s looking at porn. If he is, it makes these meetings a lot less serious. “And what about school?”

“What about it?”

“How are you doing in your classes? What kind of grades are you getting?”

“Can’t you look that stuff up?”

“Oh, I can,” he says, and I want to roll my eyes and call him out for being lazy. But that puts me at risk for getting another counselor, and I like Mr. Levine for exactly that: he’s lazy and doesn’t probe. Nearly a year of these godforsaken meetings is bad enough. I’d lose my shit if I had to sit in with anyone else. “But I want to hear it from you.”

“I get Bs and Cs. Nothing special but nothing terrible.”

“What about football? You still enjoy that?”

“Yes,” I say honestly. It’s probably the only thing I enjoy. It’s the one place I feel the most free. I can’t run away from my life, but I can run on the field. I can’t push, shove, or block my problems in real life, but I make one hell of a defense, even though I’m the quarterback.

“You’ve gotten quite a few marks for unsportsmanlike conduct already,” Mr. Levine says and lifts his gaze from his computer to me. “And it’s the beginning of the school year.”

I shrug. “Just making up for lost time and feeling extra competitive. Don’t want to break our winning streak. Go Bulldogs.”

“Sounds good.” His eyes are back on his glowing computer screen. “You know I’m here if you need to talk. See you Friday.”

I grab my shit and leave his corner office, emerging into a hall that empties into the main office building of Dale Hollow High School. There are three rooms back here: Mr. Levine’s office, the other counselor, Mrs. Freeman’s office, and the conference room they sit you down in when bad shit happens.

I’ve been in all three more times than I can count.

Between the doors to the two counselors’ offices is an ugly armchair that smells like mothballs. I’ve clocked serious hours parked there, waiting to be seen, or waiting while my parents talked with the principal behind closed doors. Today it has a different occupant, and I slow without meaning to.

Her head is turned down to the book in her lap, and raven hair is covering half her face. Noticing me, she looks up, and I’m taken aback by her beauty. Eyes as green as emeralds stare back at me, and her full lips part. She’s gorgeous.

There’s something familiar in her eyes that I can’t place. She looks to be the same age as my sister, who’s two years younger than me. Yet something about this girl makes me think she has experience, and I don’t mean with sex.

With life.

She knows life is full of bullshit.

There was a time when I’d flash a smile, lean in, and introduce myself. But those days are gone. Her long lashes come together in a blink, making my heart skip a beat and a rush of blood go to my dick. I quickly walk away before she has the chance to say anything.

My sister is in front of the office, leaning against the wall looking bored as she scrolls through God knows what on her phone.

“Get in trouble for your slutty outfit again?” I ask her. “I swear there was more to it when we left the house this morning.”

“There was, and no. I got hot, so I took my sweater off.”

“Sure. They’re going to take that away from you.” I lower my gaze to her phone. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

My sister can be irritating and entitled from time to time, but she isn’t a troublemaker, and she doesn’t have to meet with the guidance counselors like I do.

“I’m showing a new student around. I’m doing them a favor so they won’t take away my phone.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” I say with a shake of my head.

“Can you take me home today? Nancy is sick.”

“I have practice after school. Like I do every Monday. Take the bus.”

She pulls a face like I suggested she lick the dog shit outside the entry doors. “I can’t do that. People will see me on it.” She lets out a dramatic sigh. “I’ll get Marcus to drive me. He’s only been offering since the summer to take me to school and take me home.”

Rolling my eyes, I take a step forward to leave.

“Veronica?” the principal calls. “This is Eleanor, our newest student.”

“Nora,” the new girl corrects, and I turn, needing to know if that honey-smooth voice came from the raven-haired girl. Now that she’s standing, I can see how tall and lean she is, with ample breasts and an ass to match. She’s wearing tall boots over jeans, and a black, fitted top. Her long hair falls in loose curls around her pretty face. She’s wearing makeup, but it’s simple and natural, unlike many of the girls here at this school. Standing next to Veronica, it makes me realize two things about my sister: how young and innocent Veronica is—she still has her Barbies, for fuck’s sake—and how I’d do anything to keep her that way. She knows there’s bad shit in the world, but she hasn’t experienced it firsthand. She hasn’t been through hell.

I can’t explain it, but something tells me Nora has.

She looks at me for a quick second and then turns her attention to my sister.

“Oh my God, is that a vintage Chanel bag?” Veronica gushes.

“Yeah. It was my mom’s,” Nora answers.

“Tell her she has good taste.”

“I can’t,” Nora says shortly. “She’s dead.”

Veronica, who was reaching forward to touch the bag, freezes. “Oh, I, uh…” she sputters and looks at Mr. Scott.

“Nora is joining us from Los Angeles. Dale Hollow has to be a bit of a culture shock for her, so give her the best small-town welcome.” Mr. Scott smiles at Nora, then turns back to Veronica. “And put your phone away. Set a good example. We don’t allow students to use their phones, iPods, iPads, or whatever else you kids have these days during school hours.”

“The service in here sucks,” Veronica whisper-talks to Nora.

“The service seems to suck in this whole town,” Nora says dryly and Veronica laughs.

“It pretty much does. Do you have a class schedule? I can show you around. That means I can be late for first period, right?”

Mr. Scott shakes his head. “You both have the same first period. And second. And third. And fourth. You get the picture. There’s a reason I paired you together.”

I roll my eyes once again at my sister and leave the office, ready to start my routine of going through the motions and acting like I’m okay.

* * *

“There’s a new girl at school,” Veronica informs our parents between bites of lasagna. “I got to show her around today. She’s so cool. She’s from L.A. and has designer handbags. I’m pretty sure we’re going to be friends.”

“I hope the handbags aren’t the only reason.” Mom picks up her glass of wine.

“Of course not, Mom.”

“How does she like the town? Did you make her feel welcome?” Dad asks. As Dale Hollow’s sheriff, he takes this shit seriously.

“I did, and fine, I guess. She said the internet is a lot slower here than what she’s used to.”

“Priorities,” Mom chuckles. “I’m sure her family will settle in just fine. This is a great, safe, little town.”

“Not all the time,” Veronica says under her breath, eyes meeting mine for a half-second.

“That was an isolated incident.” Dad’s voice rises and he brings his fist down on the table. “One that doesn’t need to be brought up again.”

I pick up my garlic bread and keep my eyes on the food in front of me.

“How was football practice?” Mom asks me after a minute of awkward silence.

“Fine,” I say.

“That’s good.”

Veronica huffs. “How come when I say school is ‘fine’ you pester me for more, but when Jack says something is ‘fine’ you’re totally okay with it?”

It’s true, and I’m entirely aware that my parents walk on eggshells around me. Everyone fucking does. I miss when things were normal, but at this point, I’m not sure I remember what normal is.

After dinner, Mom and Veronica clean the kitchen, talking about the Homecoming dance next week. I sit in the living room to start my homework but end up staring at my math worksheet for fifteen minutes, unable to make sense of the numbers.

“Jack?” Mom calls from the kitchen. “Can you take the garbage out? Pickup is tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Glad to have a reason to put my math book away, I grab the overflowing trash from the kitchen, taking it outside. Charlie, my Golden Retriever, follows alongside me. I empty the trash into the big can in the garage, then drag that to the edge of the alley that runs behind our house. The sun is setting, and the air carries a chilly breeze.

Charlie runs to the edge of our yard, contained by an underground electric fence, and barks.

“Charlie,” I scold and try to follow his line of sight. “There’s nothing th—” I cut off when I see her, sitting up in the treehouse in the yard next to me. Her feet are dangling over the edge as she stares into the night, listening to music.

Nora.

Her eyes meet mine, acknowledging my presence, but she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t wave, doesn’t smile. Instead, she looks above me, at the mountains that seem to scrape the stars. Most people lose themselves when looking at the dark night sky, but not Nora. Her brow furrows in anger, and she glares at the heavens as if they’ve offended her.

Which is something I understand.

I blink, breaking myself from the trance. She’s beautiful enough to get lost in, but I can’t keep staring at her like some sort of creep.

“Nora?” someone calls from inside the house.

I pick up a tennis ball and throw it for Charlie, using him as an excuse to stay outside a while longer. I try to surreptitiously steal glances her way, sure she wouldn’t hear whoever was calling her since she has headphones on.

Wearing the same clothes she had on at school today—minus the boots, she’s barefoot right now—Nora gracefully jumps down from the treehouse without so much as a look back at me and heads into the house.

“Hi, Jack!” Stephanie Keller calls, waving to me. She’s standing on the back porch waiting for Nora.

I lift my arm to wave back, and then it hits me. The Kellers have been our neighbors for years. They don’t have children of their own but never have an empty house. I never would have guessed it at the sight of Nora. Maybe it was wrong of me to make that judgment of her based on her looks, but it was more than that. Though this explains the darkness I saw in her eyes.

Nora didn’t move to Dale Hollow with her family. She moved here because she has no family.