Making Lies Out of Truth

Aiden's face is a mask. I can't tell if he's hiding anger, or something else. But he's a coiled spring, holding himself back so he won't release.

"My dad loved sports cars," he whispers through his teeth, "but we didn't have any money. He worked his whole life, saving up, fixing up a roadster that was like, fifty years old." His eyes narrowed. "Derek told me I had to set it on fire. Destroy it. Make sure there was nothing left. So I did. But you know what? I was fifteen. I didn't know when you set an old car on fire in a garage, it'll blow real quick—and take the house with it." He turns away. His Adam's apple bobs.

I'm on one elbow, mouth open, cursing myself. "Aiden, I'm sorry—"

"My mom almost died," he spits. "My parents thought I was a head case. They gave me up to the State. Without Derek, I would have been in a boys' home for the past three years."