Random by Tom Leveen

trial.”
    â€œYes, a trial, all right?”
    â€œYou’re on trial for murder.”
    Andy is really good at stating questions as facts. It’s becoming an irritant.
    â€œBasically,” I say. It’s not the kind of statement or question that gets easier to hear or speak over time.
    â€œSo this guy committed suicide?” Andy asks.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, I guess that explains our initial awkwardness,” Andy says quietly. Then, in a normal voice, he says, “How’d he do it?”
    â€œHung himself,” I say, as the coffee begins congealing in my throat. “With a belt or scarf or something.”
    â€œHanged.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œNo, I mean, the word is ‘hanged.’ When it refers to a person, it’s always ‘hanged,’ not ‘hung.’ It’s grammatically correct, although I truly do not know why.”
    My eyelids freeze in place, wide open. “Are you seriously giving me a grammar lesson right now?”
    â€œJust saying,” Andy goes. And for whatever reason, probably because I’m so damn tired, I hear-feel that weird cell-phone-on-a-wooden-table reeee in my head again.
    â€œSo what was his name?” Andy asks.
    I take a drink of my coffee. Mr. Halpern specifically said not to do this. Talk, I mean, not drink coffee.
    â€œKevin Cooper,” I say.
    â€œThat’s been on the news,” Andy says slowly.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou’re one of the Canyon City Seven.”
    Can I just take a time-out at this point to say how stupid that term is? I don’t want to say so to Andy, because—well, just because —but I mean, come on. We don’t deserve a big media label like that, like we were burning crosses or going around as a gang and curb-stomping kittens or something. That isn’t what happened, not at all.
    â€œTechnically, I am, yes, but listen, you can’t believe all that stuff they’re saying,” I tell Andy. Talking about this again brings me to my feet. I start pacing. Bed, closet, bed, closet. I’m magically not tired anymore. Or maybe it’s the coffee. Noah watches me but keeps his mouth shut.
    â€œWhy should I not believe it?” Andy asks. “What say you, Noah? Who should I believe?”
    â€œI think this one is between you two,” Noah says.
    I jump in. “Why should you not believe it? Because it’s bullshit, that’s why not! Jesus!”
    â€œOkay, okay,” Andy says. “Just asking. What really happened then? What did you do?”
    â€œI didn’t do anything, that’s what I’m saying. Look, I’m not even supposed to talk about this. I can’t. It’s a legal thing.”
    Andy sighs. He doesn’t speak for a few seconds.
    â€œMy life is in your hands, Tori,” he says finally. “Maybe you should talk about anything I want you to talk about.”
    My jaw falls open so hard I hear something in my right ear pop. Noah, too, looks down at the phone, his eyebrows mashing together.
    â€œWait a sec, are you, like, blackmailing me with your own life?”
    â€œI guess. Yeah.”
    â€œDude,” Noah says.
    â€œYou realize how messed up that is, right?” I say.
    â€œI was messed up long before I called you, so, whatever.”
    â€œHold on. It’s one thing to say you’re going to kill yourself because your girlfriend died. It’s entirely another thing to say you’ll do it if I don’t make some big confession to you.”
    Andy snorts. “Hey, I’m the loco one here. And it’s not just because the person I loved most in the world died. It’s how people feel about it that’s got me up here. It’s not pain, Tori. It’s hopelessness.”
    I look to Noah. He shakes his head and shrugs like he’s not sure whether to believe Andy or not.
    I mouth the words, I can’t risk it.
    Noah frowns again, then nods. Then he wiggles his