Wish I May, Wish I Might

Chapter 9

This should go without saying, but I wasn't attending school anymore. I suppose that tends to happen after the cops have arrested you for homicide and you're waiting for your trial. I had spent a few hours locked in my own personal jail cell that smelled like rust and old cigarettes before a pretty boring bail hearing that let me go home to sleep in my own bed.

Once we went home, I silently went upstairs and bathed with heavy soaps, trying to get the reek of jail out of my skin and hair. It seemed no matter how hard I scrubbed, there was still the faint stink of cigarettes. I stayed in the cooling water until my hands - my supposedly murderous hands - turned wrinkled and ugly.

I had been curled up in my bed with Finnick next to me for a few hours when the doorbell rang. Normally, I would have gone to my window to see who it was, but instead, I just grabbed the blanket and threw it over my head. The door unlocked and opened, and faint voices suggested someone had entered the house. Footsteps came up the stairs and then there was a light tapping on my door. I lowered the blanket.

"Hey," Cash said.

I tried to smile, but I think it came out more like a grimace. "Hey."

My best friend had a huge bag strapped over his shoulder. "I brought you your stuff from school," he said, setting it down by what had been my weekend homework.

I sniffled. "Thanks."

"Are you doing okay?" he asked, sitting down on the bed next to me.

I sniffled again. "No."

Cash sighed and reached over, smoothing a loose lock of hair away from my face. "I can't believe this is happening."

"I can't either," he agreed, but I had the distinct feeling we were talking about two different things here.

There was a long moment of silence. "Well?" I asked.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to ask if I did it?"

Cash looked shocked. "Why would I ask that?"

I sat up a bit, the blankets shifting with me. "Isn't that what everyone wants to know?"

"I know you didn't hurt that guy, Carter. You don't hurt people."

"Except for Mayor Junior," I said, rubbing my eyes. "That's what everyone is thinking about right now."

"That was different," Cash said. "He hit you first."

"It doesn't matter. Everyone knows I can hurt someone. They're going to say I'm guilty at the trial." I fell back onto the pillow, sending a surge of fiery pain through my bruise. "They're going to say I'm guilty and that's what everyone is going to remember me by."

"Hey, no, it's okay," Cash said, grabbing my wrists before seeing the bruises on them as well and then just wrapping me in a hug. We stayed like that before I yanked him back and we laid on the bed, still hugging.

I thought about every chance I had to make this end differently. I should never have thrown a punch at that kid, I should have just stayed to my goal of being the better person and ignored him. I should never have freaked out at the ballpark. I should have stayed with my parents instead of running away. I should have been more careful with my words around Tucker. I should have just wished for him to let me go. I should have been able to think faster to think of a way to save him. I should have wished they would try me as a minor. Hell, maybe I should have just walked away from Tucker, far from home, and no one would ever know I was there at the time. But I threw the thought away as soon as I thought of it. I couldn't have done it, the thought would have killed me over time. Either way, there was no way I could wish myself out of this one. I couldn't change the rules that dictated that someone needed to be found guilty. I couldn't change the evidence that had been at the crime scene. I couldn't add some other random evidence to throw someone else under the bus, because that wasn't fair to them. Goddammit, this was only fair to me.