Page 59 of The Living and the Dead

“I’m screwed, aren’tI.”

“Tough to say,” Sander said bluntly.

Killian seemed to be waiting for Sander to say more. He didn’t. Instead he fiddled with the present and wondered what was inside, finally set free from everything around him. This was what he had needed, he realized now. The wedge that would break him away wasn’t between him and his dreams of Felicia, or between him and his parents. The real parting was with Killian.

“Tough to say? What’s that supposed to mean?” Killian said. “What is going on with you? Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Killian said.

“Well, for starters, you should chill out,” Sander said flatly.

“I have to get out of here.”

“Where to?”

It was like a fresh brand of panic was taking hold of him. “I don’t know. Just, take off. Take Mom’s car.”

“Okay,” Sander said, as dully as before. “So do it.”

Killian’s eyes went wide. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Yeah. Just go. It’s just as well.”

As if it was my fault,Sander thought, and then he said it aloud, in a voice that rose, surged up like a wave he couldn’t hold back. The words fell from his lips even as his eyes began to sting.

“As if this wasmy fault. This is exactly what always happens, I’m the one who has to clean up your mess, because you’re so stupid and thoughtless that you can’t even predict the consequences of your actions.”

“But Sander,I—”

“No, listen to me,” Sander snapped, because along with his rage came sudden clarity, banishing everything that wasn’t significant now. “So you’ve come to me again. Me. When everything catches up with you and you’re about to go down for it, what do you do?” He weighed the Christmas present in his hand, small and dainty. He squeezed it hard. The paper rustled. “I thought you were my best friend.”

“I am.”

“How can you be? You call me. Me! And meanwhile you’ve been lying to me for ages. Haven’t you? So what are you going to do now, when I refuse to help you?”

“But youaremy best friend.” Killian froze. “Is this about Felicia?”

The name was a needle in Sander’s heart, but he didn’t let it show.

“Felicia?” He said her name like it was an insect he wanted to squash. “Do you think I care about Felicia? I’m getting out of here, Killian! I’m going to Stockholm, because I’m going to study the fuckinglaw. You know,law and order. I don’t give a shit what goes on around here, becausethat’sthe work I want to do. I’m not about to get involved; this could ruin everything for me. What the fuck am I supposed to say when they come to me, huh?”

“But you said—”

“You only ever think of yourself, Killian. Always, nonstop. You always have. You don’t give a single shit about me. Don’t you get that?”

Killian looked stupider than ever, his arms hanging slack at his sides.

“You know he was all over her, right?” he said.

“What? Who?”

“Mikael. Felicia. He raped her. Or he tried, at least.”

“When?”

“Like around St. Lucia Day. She told me, she didn’t know what to do.”