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knowing Bull’s trivia is required to be an engineer.”
    That gets a snicker from Alejandro and Juan. “You said it,” Juan says. Matt looks around, either searching for someone or already bored of the basketball talk.
    We walk to where I’m parked while I think of ways to ditch Juan and Matt. The only boy who’s animated is Juan, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to fill the uncomfortable void hanging over us, or if he’s clueless about the odd tension suddenly sluicing off his best friend.
    “Do you play basketball?” I ask Matt.
    He shakes his head, hands shoved in the pockets of his ski jacket. Unlike Juan and Alejandro’s jackets, his is clean and without any obvious wear.
    “He’s into science,” Juan explains. “His dad is a university physics professor. He’s really cool. He explained how physics determines which direction a ball will bounce.”
    Alejandro huffs a laugh and shoves his friend’s arm. “Not that you understood any of it.”
    Juan’s face reddens. “Maybe not. But it was still cool.”
    “And you live near these guys?” I ask Matt. University professors tend not to buy houses in the projects. The school caters to middle class students, but they are bussed from farther away—and not within walking distance of Alejandro’s house. Which means it’ll take even longer before I can be with Amber again. Both my dick and my heart grumble in protest.
    Matt looks toward the street. “No, but my dad is picking me up later on. He had tests to grade.”
    “Matt always comes over after school on Wednesdays,” Alejandro says. “He’s been helping me with math since you got shot.”
    I cringe. Frank screwed us both up in more ways than one. I used to tutor Alejandro so he wouldn’t be kicked off his school’s basketball team. He’d been headed in that direction because of his math grades. “Thanks,” I say to Matt. “I owe you one.”
    He shrugs, and again avoids looking at me. He reminds me of a student in my engineering program. He doesn’t often make eye contact and is awkward around people, but the guy is a fucking genius. I’m guessing Matt is too if his father’s a physics professor.
    I unlock the car doors and the three scramble inside. A few snowflakes drift from the dark gray clouds. Hopefully the heavy snowfall holds off until I get to Crossfields. I’m not missing out on seeing Amber, but I’d rather avoid the fucked up roads if I can. I don’t have chains for the tires.
    I park in front of Alejandro’s house. Before he can escape the car, I place my hand on his arm. Matt and Juan are already scooting out of the backseat. Juan slams the car door and they wait for Alejandro on his side.
    “I need to talk to you,” I say.
    Alejandro doesn’t reply. His body turns rigid and he stares out the front window. It’s like he’s not even here with me, but not in the same way as Amber when she has a flashback. He has shut down, though I suspect it’s because he knows what I want to talk about. He’s never acted this way before. Until Frank hurt him, he was always outgoing and friendly.
    Matt and Juan stand on the sidewalk, waiting for Alejandro to join them. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing like a basketball, but he still refuses to look at me.
    So not to make the guys any more curious than they already are, I try to look casual, a relaxed smile on my face. It feels anything but that. “Frank needs to be locked away, but I can’t do it on my own. Ryan is dead, and you’re the only other person who can tell the cops what Frank did.”
    I watch for signs that he knows others who are involved, but he doesn’t give anything away. He continues watching out the front window. I can’t tell if he even notices the darkening sky or the falling snow or the dented bumper ahead of us.
    “There’s nothing to tell,” he says, voice lifeless. “I told you he didn’t do anything.”
    “What are you afraid of?” I push down the anger funneling beneath the surface; it