Where the Truth Lies by Jessica Warman

have seen you two on campus together. The Diggers have told me they’ve seen you taking walks off campus. Holding hands. Kissing.” My father stretches his arms behind his head. “I need to know the truth, Emily. Now.”
    I hesitate. “Okay. We’re friends.” I nod, like I’m trying to convince myself that it’s the truth. “We’re good friends.”
    I can tell my response doesn’t please my father by the way he leans back in his chair, goes “ aghhhhhhhh ,” and then stares at me with wide, tired eyes, and says, “Emily. This doesn’t make me happy. At all.”
    All of a sudden, I realize what he’s looking at in the folder that’s sitting in front of him: it’s Del’s whole history, or at least whatever his parents decided to disclose. Seeing the folder makes me think of something else.
    “You have a folder like that for everyone,” I say.
    My dad nods.
    “Even ex-students?”
    He taps his fingers impatiently on the table. “Emily, what are you getting at?”
    “Can you tell me what happened to Madeline Moon-Park? She just disappeared off the face of the planet , and everyone wants to know—”
    “Let me stop you right there.” He closes the folder and slides it closer to his body, as though I’m going to leap across the room and grab it. “Whatever I do or do not know about Madeline is confidential, honey. You know that.”
    “So you know what happened? You know where she went?”
    “I didn’t say that. And you’re trying to change the subject. I brought you in here to tell you that I don’t want you seeing Del anymore.”
    I tilt my head. I squint at my father. “I told you, we’re friends. What’s wrong with that?”
    “From what I understand, it’s a pretty close friendship.” He gives me this heartbreaking look. “And it’s going to stop.”
    The words come out before I even realize what I’m saying. “No, it’s not.”
    “And why is that?” His tone becomes mildly sarcastic, just enough to irritate me. “Do you love him? This boy you know nothing about? You’ve known him for how long? Two months?”
    “What makes you say I know nothing about him? You didn’t even know for sure I was seeing him until what—ten seconds ago? What is it, Dad? Is it his tattoo? Is it the fact that he was a foster child? Oh wait, let me guess. It’s that his father isn’t in Congress, or on the board of directors of one of the companies you’re a shareholder in, isn’t it?”
    My dad is stunned. I’ve never spoken to him like this in my life. “No, Emily. That’s not it.”
    “Then what is it?” Even I’m a little surprised by my attitude.
    My father blinks a few times, like he’s trying to calm himself down. He opens the folder, stares at it, closes it, opens it again. “Emily,” he says quietly, “you do not know this boy the way you think you do.”
    “Why don’t you tell me, then? Why did you let him in if he wasn’t Stonybrook Material ?” My tone is beyond sarcastic.
    “Del’s adoptive father, Doug Marshall, is a close friend of mine.”
    “I’ve never heard you talk about him.”
    “Would you listen to me? We were college roommates at Penn. The Marshalls are good people. They love their son.” He sighs. “What I’m about to tell you is confidential.”
    “Oh, please. Tell me.”
    “Del was taken from his mother’s home when he was just a toddler. He ran away from a number of foster homes before the Marshalls found him. He was abused, Emily. His sister was abused. Every time he ran away, the act was twofold: to find his sister, who he hasn’t had contact with in years, and to escape a terrible situation.”
    I shake my head. “I already knew. Del told me about all of this.”
    My dad studies me. “He didn’t tell you everything.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “Did he tell you what happened at his last boarding school?”
    I only hesitate for a second. “Yes,” I lie.
    “Oh, he did? He told you that the Marshalls pulled him out because, in the