He nods, then leads me to the back. I know this place like the back of my hand and have even been in the interrogation room he’s leading me to.

“You’ve done a good job of disappearing after the accident at Fremont High with Trey Matthews,” he says as I settle into one of the chairs. “We’ve been looking for you, especially after Coach Dieter reported you missing.”

“Coach Dieter reported me missing?”

He nods. “Yep. He’s worried about your safety and well-being.” He shrugs. “But you’re not a minor anymore, Victor. You’re eighteen, so basically if you want to drop out of sight and disappear, that’s your prerogative.”

“Wait, I’m confused.” I shake my head. “You’re not gonna interrogate me or arrest me?”

“For what?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

It’s hard to say the words because there’s a damn lump in my throat and I’m so fucking tense. “I killed my best friend.”

“All reports, from the coaching staff to the players and medical staff, indicate it was an accident. Believe me, Victor, if we suspected you of foul play, the second you entered this facility you’d have been apprehended.” Officer Stone leans back in his chair. “If you’re having anxiety about Trey Matthew’s death, there’s a teen grief group over at the hospital across the way—”

“I’m good.” I don’t need a grief group.

“Victor, running away doesn’t solve any problems. Wait here.” He leaves me in the cold cement room and comes back a few minutes later. “This is the letter that Coach Dieter sent us after the accident.”

It reads:

To Whom It May Concern:

I lost one of my players last week. Trey Matthews was an exemplary player, a smart kid with a bright future ahead of him. I have never lost a player in all my years as a coach, and it has been a tough road. Trey’s spirit and intelligence will always be a part of this team no matter if he’s with us physically or not.

I also lost another player last week: Victor Salazar. He was a young man with a fighting spirit I’d only seen in a few of my players over the years. He was like a lion, ready to pounce at the slightest movement of the opposing teammates. I had to constantly rein him in because of his innate instinct to protect his teammates. But the truth was I admired this young man. I wish I had the same passion when I was his age. He was a leader to this team, and without him, I’m afraid my players are lost. Victor disappeared the day of Trey Matthew’s death, and a part of me left with my players.

Please don’t stop searching for Victor Salazar. He’s a part of Fremont High, a part of my team, and a part of my life.

Sincerely,

Coach Dieter,

Head football coach

Fremont High

“Victor, are you okay?”

I stare at the letter. I never expected anyone would write those words about me, especially Dieter, a hardass coach who shows no emotion.

“Yeah,” I tell him, clearing the lump in my throat. “I’m good.”

“Anything else I can help you with?”

I hand Dieter’s note back to him. “No.”

“Then you’re free to go.”

I’m about to walk out the front door of the police station when I hear Stone’s voice call out, “Victor!”

I turn to him. “Yeah?”

He hands me a brochure. “It’s on the teen grief program. You might want to check it out.”

After he leaves, I stare at the brochure. Teens helping teens.

I shove the brochure in my back pocket and walk to the parking lot. I don’t need to join a group of kids who just sit around feeling sorry for themselves.

But as I sit in my car and think about what my life has become, the truth hits me.

I do feel sorry for myself.

Fuck.

Chapter Fifty

MONIKA

I walk into the outpatient section of the hospital. The person at the reception desk points me in the direction of the teen grief support group.

I step into the small white-walled room. A dozen gray chairs are situated in a circle in the middle of the space. Two guys about my age are already sitting down. One has shoulder-length blond hair and is wearing some sort of band T-shirt and ripped jeans. The other boy has short red hair with freckles dotting his nose and arms. The only other person in the room is a girl. She’s got short spiked hair and big gauges in her ears. I don’t know if she’s part of the group because all she’s doing is standing by the window on the far side of the room, staring out at the parking lot.