Chapter 23: The Lease

Shane gave his statement to a detective at eleven that night, in a plain room with a box of tissues and a plant.

He did not do it alone.

His father sat on one side of him and Jo on the other.

I sat in the hall for three hours and held everyone's coffee.

When the door finally opened, Shane walked out and put his hands on his knees.

Then he laughed.

"She asked me to spell my own address," he said. "I couldn't."

On Thursday the dean's office emailed me.

The harassment complaint against me was dismissed, with no finding and an apology for the delay.

Megan's name was not in the email.

It did not need to be.

That afternoon Shane and I went up to the roof of Jo's building with two cups of bad coffee.

It had a tar floor and a rusted chair.

From the edge you could see Squirrel Hill going down to the river.

We sat on the ledge with our feet over the street.

"I want to say it again," I said.

"You've said it six times."

"I'm going to keep saying it."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I didn't see it. And I'm sorry about the locker room."

"Devin."

"I treated you like you'd done it."

"You didn't know."

"Don't let me off."

He turned his head.

"Devin," he said. "What do you want me to do? Say you're guilty?"

"Maybe."

"You were in love with a person who was good at being loved. I'm the one who hid it."

"You were eighteen and drunk."

"So were you, in a way. Drunk on her."

I laughed, and it hurt.

"I want to do something," I said. "Not say. Do."

He thought about it.

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