“No,” said Lily. “Neither have you.”

Chapter 12 — Lily

I want to say this part myself, because everyone in my life has been telling my story on my behalf since I was seventeen and I have decided that stops now.

Here is what I actually remember about that night: nothing.

I remember the gas smell — that sweet chemical rotten-egg thing, near the boiler room door, and I remember thinking that’s not right the way you think it when you notice a car making a sound.

I remember the alarm handle being stiffer than I expected. I remember Coach Delgado’s face. I remember Owen Chase sitting under a bench with his hands over his ears, and I remember that he was too heavy and that I got about eleven feet and then dragged him.

Then there’s a gap. Then I’m in a bed and my father is holding my hand and everything above my left eyebrow feels like a bell someone hit.