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It took Hollis a while to process big emotions. There was no one in his life to model that for him.

He came from hard people. You took what you were given, and you swallowed it. Fought when it was time to fight, lay down when it was time for that too. Mrs. Brown was calm as a stream in spring; Mr. Brown absorbed rage like damp earth.

But the unfairness of this was raw and red. It felt like being slapped and then held underwater.

Hollis didn’t know Jorge from Adam. They didn’t have history like he did with Timothy; Hollis didn’t provoke him on purpose like he did with James. When he and Annie headed off toward the pond, Hollis fully expected Jorge to show up at school on Monday, give him a hard time, cool off by Tuesday, and then quite literally never speak to him again.

He’d have no reason to.

Now Hollis was facing down assault charges, maybe even attempted murder—and for what?

He marched far into the woods, until the sky was darkened with branches and his voice no longer echoed. Until there was a body’s space between trees and the quiet felt like a threat.

Then he sank to his knees and screamed.

Hollis dug his hands deep into the cold soil to stop them from shaking.

He rocked back and forth, head pressed against the ground.

When the heat of anger faded, it took everything else with it.

Hollis pulled his hands from the dirt, curled them around his chest, and lay on his side. Then he drew his knees up close and shut his eyes.