canât let it be. We killed someone,â I say, fighting back tears.
âYeah, I know. Every time I try and forget it, youâre right there to remind me.â His voice is colder than Iâve ever heard it.
âBut how can you forget it, Alex?â
He shrugs. âWhy do you need to hand yourself in? Itâs not going to make any difference. Heâs dead. But if you go to jail, your life will be over too. Just like your dadâs.â
I feel like heâs hit me right in the gut. Swung a punch that will hurt far longer than if heâd slammed his fist into my skin. âIâm nothing like my dad.â
âMaybe youâre more alike than you think.â
I donât know what to say. Heâs never used my secrets against me before. âYouâve really changed, Alex.â
âIâm just trying to look forward. Like you can.â
âYeah? And make something of myself?â I say as sarcastically as I can.
Alex shuffles, leaning back against the fence like he needs the timber to keep him up. âDidnât mean it like that â¦â
âYeah, you did. You sound just like your dad. He must be so proud.â
âFuck off, Jake.â
âYou canât escape what we did.â
âYou arenât my conscience. Go to the police if you want, but leave me out of it. Understand?â
No. I shake my head. I donât understand. Not at all.
âThis isnât just on me,â I say, hating that heâs happy for me to take all the blame.
Behind us the front door to Alexâs house opens and Tone appears holding two packets of chips. âZander? Barbecue or salt and vinegar?â he yells down the path.
âBarbecue,â calls Alex.
âThere anything to drink?â
Alex closes his eyes for a second like heâs frustrated at dealing with this bullshit on top of everything else. âBottom cupboard under the sink. Should be some cans of Coke or something.â
âRighto,â says Tone, going back inside.
âZander?â I say with a grin, remembering how we used to laugh about that name.
Alex looks at me with an expression I canât read. I realise he is Zander now. Heâs not Alex anymore.
âOh, right. Zander. Sorry,â I say.
He nods. âYeah. Me too.â
I scuff my feet, not wanting him to go but not knowing what to say either.
âI met her, you know ⦠his daughter â¦â says Alex.
I look at him but heâs looking down, his body tense.
âI havenât forgotten, Jake. Just because Iâm not like you doesnât mean it doesnât haunt me. Okay? I think about it every day.â
His words make me feel lighter. Itâs like heâs taking some of it off me. I breathe in and my body starts to relax and before I can think about what Iâm saying, Iâm saying it. âLetâs hang out one afternoon. Go to the skate park.â
He whips around and stares straight at me. âSee, thatâs what I donât get, Jake. You go on like you give a shit. Like youâre all tortured and stuff. But youâre just using this to get to me. This is not about that man. This is about us.â
He picks up his bag and starts to walk away. I panic. He canât go. We need to be in this together.
âAlex, we killed someone. What would your friend think of that?â I say, too loudly for the street, and it makes him wheel around with this face of anger and storm towards me and grab my shirt, get in so close I can smell his rage.
âYouâre my best friend,â I say quietly, hating that Iâve come to this.
He lets go of me then and smiles a big radiant Alex smile I havenât seen for months. I grin back as he slides his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close.
âBest friends donât threaten each other, Jake. They look out for each other. Help each other.â
âIâm not threatening you.â
âYeah