Page 6 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Finn widens his eyes at me. “Xav, what are you—”

“Let him talk, son.” Hank gestures for me to go ahead with a flick of his chin.

“He wasn’t a part of it. I came up with it. I brought the stupid thing to school. I set it off. It was all me,” I lie.

“Nice try, but I saw the video. Hell, I’m willing to bet your whole school’s seen it by now. You showed him the stink bomb in your backpack a minute before it went off.”

I swallow the urge to ask him about that damn video they keep referring to.

Not the time, Xav.

“Exactly, I showed it to him. How does that prove anything? Doesn’t mean he knew about it beforehand. Or that he was involved in any way.”

In response, Hank starts pacing around the room, rubbing his temples as though he genuinely believes it’ll help him think better. Then, five painful seconds later, he says it.

“I don’t believe you.”

There goes my hero moment.

“You’re not that type of kid, Xav. You’re a good kid. Eighteen years I’ve known you and you haven’t let my son talk you into his bad ideas once, so no, I don’t believe you pulled this off all by yourself.”

Defeated, I look down at my feet.

“But…” Hank surprises me by adding. My head jerks up. “If that’s the story you want to go with. If you want to shoulder the blame to save your buddy, I can’t stop you.”

I peek at Finn from the corner of my eye. Finn, who for once in his life, wasn’t the mastermind behind a prank. I might’ve been lying when I said he had nothing to do with it, but this part is true: it was my idea. Mine. If anything, I’m the one who talked him into it.

“I’m not covering for him. That’s what happened.”

I can practically see the weight of the world lifting off Finn’s shoulders when the words escape my mouth.

“If you say so.” Hank nods, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I read him crystal clear.

That’s a “thank you” right there.

“All right. We’ll pass the message along to the school, let them handle your punishment. Sheriff wants to talk to you again, then you’ll both be free to go.” Hank trails toward the door, but seconds before he exits the room, he stops, eyeing me over his shoulder. “I just have one question.”

I wait for him to lay it on me.

“Why now?” he asks.

“Not following?” I reply.

“Why are you acting out all of a sudden? This isn’t you, kid.”

If I told you, you’d never look at me the same way again.

“No reason.”

* * *

“What on earth were you thinking?” my mother belts, her voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

Shut up.

Just shut up.