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“Do something,” he mouthed.

Um. Right. I could do the closing. But I couldn't argue her side! I stood up on knees that knocked and cleared my throat. With my eyes glued to Julie, I began our closing.

“In summary, we agree that responding to emergencies needs qualified experts. That's why we think a law should be passed that says we only have to call 911 when we see a crime or an accident. Calling 911 is always the best thing to do because it doesn't put anybody at risk, which makes utilitarianists and Kant happy and prevents bigger tragedies.”

I did it. It was over.

I was suddenly aware of the sheer number of eyes pinned on me at that moment and took my seat before I fell over. Dear God, if you ever were to open a hole and swallow a whole human being, now would be a really good time. Amen.

Mr. Williams, still standing at the podium, turned his back on the audience and applauded. In seconds, the entire auditorium had joined him, but I knew they were just being polite. I watched Julie, but she sat with her head down. Judging by the tendons straining in her neck, she was upset, and it was taking everything she had to hide it.

I smiled tightly, and the four of us stood to leave the stage. There were four more groups scheduled to speak next, and we had to stay to watch. Once backstage, Paul held out a fist to bump.

“Hey, man. Wow. Seriously. That was way cool. You saved our asses. Where did you learn to talk like a
Law
& Order
episode?”

From my attorney, my court-appointed shrink, and my caseworker. But because they were all part of the whole secret identity thing, I only said, “Here and there.”

Julie walked ahead, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Oh, yeah. She was definitely mad.

Apologize, dude.

Back off!

Kenny glared.

Fine. “Julie, hey, I'm really sorry.”

She whirled around so fast I skidded to a halt and fumbled my landing. My hands came up to catch her after we collided, but she flung them off. “Really? Doesn't feel like it. You know what it feels like, Dan? It feels like an excuse. You do something wrong and then want to make it a law so poor, innocent bystanders have to share your blame. It…God, it's like winning is all you care about.”

For a long moment, I stared at her, blinking, scratching my head. Winning wasn't my only goal. I wanted Julie to see my point of view, to make her understand why standing and watching when someone needed help was wrong.

Sorry, dude. You just wanted to win.

No. No! I—

You
did.

Helpless, I shook my head. Julie made a sound of disgust.

“For God's sake, Dan, don't you understand how this hurts me?”

Hurts her? Why would this hurt? It was a stupid class project, not a Supreme Court hearing. I stared at her, trying to connect the dots in her leap of logic and couldn't get there from here. I stood, gaping, and she flung her hands in the air, then took off. Lisa hurried behind her, stopping once to skewer me with a dirty look.

Paul looked at me and smirked. “Sucks to be you.”

Deep in my mind, Kenny laughed like a loon.

I Tell Myself I Shouldn't

I drove down Portion Road on autopilot. Businesses had their holiday lights up, and some were already twinkling in the early dusk. Kenny was right; I should probably get Julie a gift. Assuming I could get her to forgive me. Dr. Phillips suggested a direct attack. Okay, she called it a ‘direct line of communication.' Whatever. The plan was to come right out and ask Julie how she felt about me.

As I turned down Julie's street, I saw the Dellermans' house was dark. I hadn't seen Brandon since before the speech. I wish I could text him or something. I guess I could leave a note in the mailbox, let him know I was still his friend—assuming he was still mine.

I parked, headed up Julie's walk, and before I could ring the bell, Julie flung open the door.

“You have to leave.”

“Julie—”

“Dan, not now. Just go. I'll meet you, I promise. You can't be here right now.” Her arms were crossed over her chest, but one hand came up, rubbed her cheek. She stared at me, her eyes wild, her hair blowing in the December wind.

No. My muscles clenched. No, damn it. I wasn't going to let her do this to me again. I took her by the shoulders, turned her to face me. “I have to talk to you, to apologize. I know I upset you.”

“I said not now!” Julie slapped my hands off her and went back to the door. “You have to leave before—”

“Before what?” I followed her. “Julie, you either like me or you don't. Which is it?”

She wasn't hearing me. Her eyes, glassy and too wide, kept scanning up and down the street. A few kids slapped around a hockey puck, and for a minute, I wished I could play too. A car turned the down the block, and Julie's eyes popped. “Leave! Leave right now. Go to the restaurant, and I'll meet you. I promise. Just go now.”

The car drove past the house and parked at the end of the street. Julie's shoulders dropped in relief.

“Julie, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on.” I ran my hands down her arms, rubbed gently.

“Dan, I will, I promise.” She put a hand to my chest, pushed at me. “Just…not now. He's coming. He'll be here soon.”

“Who? Your dad?”

She didn't answer.

“Damn it, Julie. Tell me. Tell me why you keep pulling me closer one day and pushing me away the next.”

Before my eyes, her features rearranged, going from worried and afraid to totally pissed off in zero-point-five seconds. “To protect you, you dumbass. Now go.” She swung on her heel and escaped back into the house before I could recover.

I hesitated for a minute and walked across the grass to Brandon's door, dug an old scrap of paper out of my wallet, scrawled a short note across it, and stuffed into the mailbox bolted beside the door. I pulled my hood up, huddled deeper into my jacket, and hightailed it back to my car, Julie's words replaying in my head. As I pulled away from the curb, a beat-up, old Hyundai slid into the spot, facing the wrong way. I couldn't see the driver.

Come
on, bro. She wanted us out of here, so let's go.

I took the Long Island Expressway back to the Applebee's where we'd eaten dinner that one time. I sat outside in the parking lot for twenty minutes, then thirty minutes, before a car pulled beside mine.

“I can't stay,” she said when I got out and met her at the driver's door.

“Julie, I—”

“I know. I'll meet you. Tomorrow, I promise.”

I searched her face for signs she was lying, but she met my gaze without flinching. After a moment, I nodded. “Fine. Where?”

“How about your beach? Tomorrow morning?”

I nodded again. “Eleven.”

She flashed me a halfhearted smile and drove back the way she'd come.

What
the
hell
was
that
about?

“I wish I knew.”

————

I didn't sleep much that night. When the sun came up, I was itchy for a run but didn't want to be all smelly and gross when I met Julie. I still had five hours to kill before I met her at the beach. So, I headed to our basement, where my dad and I had a small home gym set up, to take out my frustrations on the Bowflex. I ran through my usual circuit in about forty-five minutes and worked up a lather. It did nothing to take my mind off Julie. Or Brandon.

I grabbed a clean towel from the pile of folded laundry sitting on top of the dryer and jogged back upstairs for a shower. I washed off the sweat, toweled off, gelled my hair, and dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and boots.

By 10:30, I was in my car about to head to the beach when my phone rang.

“It's me. Julie.”

Dread settled in my gut.

“Um, hi.”

“I sent you a text, but you never replied.”

I grimaced and let another lie drip from my lips. “Yeah, my phone's, uh…not working right. I haven't been able to text in weeks.”

“Oh. So, listen…about the beach.”

“You're canceling, right?” I let my head fall back against the seat rest.

“Not exactly. I just wondered if you'd rather come here where it's warm instead of the beach where it's below zero.”

Yes!
Kenny clapped his hands, and my head pounded.

“Yeah, absolutely! I'm already in the car. Bye.” I snapped the cell shut. “Woo!” I did a lame fist pump thing that nobody saw.

I
did.

“You don't count,” I retorted with a wide grin. Not even Kenny would foul up my great mood.

Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in Julie's toasty warm living room. There was a fake Christmas tree in the wide window that faced the street, a pile of presents under it. Julie handed me a bottle of water and then curled up on the sofa opposite the tree. She wore jeans with flowers embroidered on one leg and a clingy top that sparkled when she moved. Her glasses were blue today. I liked the blue ones the best.

“So, last night was messed up,” I finally said.

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that. My dad showed up.” She shuddered. “He has a lot of problems, and there's always a ton of drama whenever he shows.”

She kept using the word
shows
. “You didn't know he was coming?”

“No, not until right before he showed up. I wasn't all that happy about it, to be honest.”

“I thought you really missed him.”

Julie shrugged and picked at a flower on her jeans. “I did, but—”

“But what, Julie?”

“You don't understand what it's like to be around that much hate.” She twisted her hands. “I care about you. I tell myself I shouldn't.
He
tells me I shouldn't. But I can't help it.”

I scoffed. “Right. Nothing says I love you like a door slammed in your face.”

She shot me a glare. “Look, will you stop with the sarcasm already?”

With a loud sigh, I forced myself to stay calm. “Just tell me this…you said you wanted us to be more than friends. So yes or no, Julie? Do you like me as a boyfriend? I shouldn't be asking you this, I know that, but I just don't give a shit about any of that stuff right now. I need to know if you feel the same way.” Holy crap. Did I really do that? Just come right out and demand an answer to a question that direct?

All I needed to hear was one word, just one word to make the butterflies in my stomach go away. Instead, Julie's eyes lowered.

“Julie, please,” I begged.

“No.” Her voice was strained like it hurt to say the word.

It hurt to hear it even more.

“I love you. I'm in love with you, Dan.”

Oh my God. She loves me. My heart started palpitating. The butterflies hadn't disappeared. They'd called friends. She loved me! Nobody who wasn't related to me had ever said that to me before.

Whoa
, Kenny whispered.

I should have stopped her. I should have put the brakes on. “I love you too,” I blurted out. “And I'm sorry.”

“Um…okay.” She smiled halfway. “For what?”

I waved a hand, impatient and frustrated. “For everything. For the speech. For pressuring you. I…I just don't understand why you keep flipping the switch on me.”

As I spoke, Julie's hand slowly crept to her cheek, where she rubbed it.

“Oh. It's because of your dad.”

Her eyes nearly popped from her face. “How…how did you know that?”

I shrugged. “Every time you think about your dad, you rub your cheek. I'm good at reading people.” I managed half a laugh. “I sort of have to be.” I put my hand over hers. “What I don't understand is why you made me leave. I wanted to meet your dad.”

The hand I held twitched.

She shook her head. “No.” The word was shrill. “You can't meet him. Ever.”

What
the
hell, dude? Why not?

Excellent question, Kenny.

She sighed. “You don't understand.”

“You said that already.” I spread my hands apart. “Then explain it to me this time instead of pretending you don't know me or sending me away.”

Julie sat silently, twisting her hands. She adjusted her glasses, a slim finger sliding them back up her nose. She nodded once. What did that mean? Was she thinking about how to answer me or about sending me away?

I leaned back in the sofa, frustrated, tired, and angry. I took a gulp from the bottle of water. I waited while Julie fidgeted beside me. She stood up, walked to the window by the Christmas tree, and looked outside. I could see the side of her face, the sun outside turning her hair into a halo. But her eyes were cold and distant.

“Nobody knows this,” she finally said. “Not my parents or my stepparents. Not my sister. I've never told anybody.” She drew in a deep breath and turned, leaning back against the windowsill. “I
knew
my brother was being bullied. I knew it for months.”

I shut my eyes tight, sympathy building.

“He was a real brainiac, got skipped a grade, and that totally bugged me. Like he needed more attention. My dad loved having a son…a lot more than he loved having daughters.”

I nodded, understanding but trying very hard to contain my impatience.

“He was very immature for his age—physically, I mean. He was still babyish while the other kids were growing taller and stronger. He told me kids laughed at him, pushed him around, teased him, took his stuff.” Julie shut her eyes for a moment. “But I never helped. I could have. I could have told my dad. But I did
nothing
. I didn't lift a finger and now he's dead.” Her voice broke, and tears slid down her cheek.

I sat on the sofa, paralyzed and ashamed. “Julie—”

“No! I'm not done. There's more.” She brushed a tear away, annoyed at it. “I was grateful. I was actually happy there was something less than perfect about him, something that my dad couldn't gush and brag about.” She covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut in a gesture of self-hatred so familiar I was up and across the room in a single motion, pulling her into my arms.

“No wonder you hated me.”

She pulled out of my arms. “No, I never hated you. You hated me.” With half a shrug, Julie smiled tightly. “You
should
hate me. I'm…I'm such a piece of shit.”

“No.” I tugged her back. “I don't think that at all.” It made sense. All of it. She'd said she was staring but not watching Jeff attack Brandon…that she was frozen in a flashback. It all made sense now, and I'm—

An
ass
, Kenny finished for me.

This time, I did not argue.

“Julie, I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me for making you feel so bad.”

Again, she shook her head. “No, you were right. I should have done something. I had the power to help,” she said and held up a hand, palm up. “But I just wasted it.” She turned her palm, as if to spill whatever it held. She squared her shoulders and returned to the sofa.

“Anyway, my dad doesn't know any of this. He already hates me for…uh, surviving, I guess. He'd probably kill me himself if he knew.”

I thought of my grandfather, about the guilt he carried. “Julie, are you sure he hates you? He's grieving. Maybe he feels the same guilt you do.”

Julie shook her head. “No, my dad doesn't do guilt. All he feels is hatred. That's why he and Erica are having so many problems—that's my stepmom.”

“I don't understand.”

She pressed her lips down. “He can't hold down a job. He pisses through all his money, chasing down dead-end leads trying to find my brother's bully. Wants justice. Nothing else matters. I don't matter. Erica doesn't matter. My sister doesn't matter. Nothing but revenge, twenty-four-seven.”

“Is that why you sent me away last night?”

She nodded and glanced at me from beneath her lashes. “Dan, we shouldn't be together.”