“I’m so sorry.”

He chuckles softly. “About living above a Seven-Eleven?”

“No! I mean yes, but about everything.”

“Yeah. It sucks. That’s why I like coming to Wawa. It’s peaceful here. I can be someone different. Someone who doesn’t have half their family in prison.”

I frown. “Half?”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot the best part, didn’t I?” His gaze wanders out to the black skies. “My two older brothers are in jail for trying to rob a fucking bank.”

My mouth drops open in shock. I’m thankful for the darkness. “Are you . . . is that for real?” Or am I unwittingly playing another round of two truths and a lie?

“Look it up. Poughkeepsie Journal. They did a nice, big front-page spread with the three of them pictured side-by-side. It’s titled ‘Criminal Gene Runs in Family.’ ” He swipes a hand through the air in front of him dramatically; his voice is thick with bitterness.

He’d only mentioned a little brother before. “But I thought you said—”

“Yeah, I lied. I’m sorry. I’ve got three brothers. I just like to pretend that two of them don’t exist.” He butts the rest of his cigarette out against the rock.

“So that story about being in an armed robbery the first night—”

“Was true. I was in an armed robbery. I just left out a few key details. Like, the part where my two idiot brothers told me to stay in the car while they went inside to take care of some bills and how I didn’t listen. Big surprise, right? But it was January and it was cold, and the heat in that car barely works, so I said fuck it and I went inside, and found the two of them with pantyhose over their heads, pointing guns at the tellers. I knew it was them right away by their voices. It was surreal . . .” He shakes his head slowly, as if replaying it in his mind. “They started yelling at me for not listening. Apparently they needed me to wait in the car so I could drive it away when they came running out.” He snorts. “Then they yelled at me to watch the security guard to make sure he didn’t do anything funny. The poor guy was sixty-seven years old and they’d taken his gun from him as soon as they came in. He wasn’t gonna do anything.

“I told them to get the hell out of there before they got themselves into more trouble. They wouldn’t listen . . .” They wouldn’t listen. “I don’t know what their plan was, but it went to shit, fast. Someone triggered the alarm for the cops and the place was surrounded in no time. They surrendered.”

“Oh my God! That’s insane, Kyle!”

He studies the ground. “Yeah, that’s one word for it.”

I try to picture Rhett standing in front of a teller with a gun in his hand—or something equally crazy—but I can’t. “What was going through your head during all this? Were you scared that they’d hurt someone? I mean, they’re your brothers.”

“Honestly?” His chuckle is low and sounds sheepish. “I remember wondering where they got those pantyhose from. Like, if they went out and bought them or took them from our mother’s dresser.”

I burst out laughing, and he joins in, releasing some of the tension in the air around us.

“So, what happened after?”

“The cops figured I was in on it, so they arrested me. That’s when I got scared. I thought I’d end up in jail, too. But they dropped the charges after they reviewed the security tapes and witness statements.”

“And your brothers?”

“They just got sentenced a few weeks ago. Nine years. They’ll be getting out around the same time as my dad. Max will be thirty, Ricky will be thirty-two.”

“Just think, if you hadn’t gone in when you did, you would have driven the car away.” If they’d been caught, Kyle would be an accessory to an armed robbery. He would have ended up in jail, too, or juvenile detention, given his age.

I wouldn’t be sitting here with him right now.

A sigh of relief runs through me.

“So now you know why I pretend they don’t exist,” he mutters wryly.

Even Rhett seems like a saint right now, despite the havoc he has caused in our family. “Did they at least apologize?”

He shrugs. “In their own way. But they really fucked up things for Jeremy and me. Now every time there’s a theft around school or the neighborhood, fingers are automatically pointed our way. We’ve even had the cops come by our apartment saying that so-and-so saw one of us in the area at the time. Thankfully we had proof that we weren’t. Not sure what’s going to happen the next time, when we don’t.” He sighs. “So, now you know the kind of lowlife trash I am, Piper. We’re that family. Every town has one of them. The ones you can’t trust, that you know it’s only a matter of time before they pull some shady shit.”

“You’re not like your father or your brothers, though,” I rush to argue.

He laughs, but there’s no mirth in the sound. “How do you know I’m not?”

“I just do,” I say with conviction, shoving away that tiny voice in the back of my head that wonders if I could be wrong.

His hard swallow carries in the quiet night as he fumbles with his cigarette pack, pulling another one out. He brings it to his lips but simply holds it there, unlit. “I found a dead cockroach in the box of Cheerios, the morning that I left to come here. I’ll bet you could never say that.”

I turn away to hide my cringe. I’ve never even seen a cockroach, alive or otherwise.

He casts his free hand toward the ground. “I’m wearing these shitty running shoes because I can’t afford new ones until I get paid. My bumper is being held up by duct tape. And the best thing about coming to camp? I’m not eating peanut butter sandwiches and ramen noodles five days a week.” Finally he gives in and lights the cigarette. His third.

I wish I knew what to say to comfort him, but I haven’t the first clue. He speaks about a world I am entirely unfamiliar with, and it’s not what my mother deems “normal” life.

It’s being outright poor.

I swallow my pity, because I know he doesn’t want it. “Does anyone else here know about your family?” Ashley doesn’t, or she would have said something. Does Avery?

He shakes his head, his gaze off in the dark distance. “I didn’t even tell Eric. It was nice, you know. No one knowing anything about me. I liked it that way.”

And now I know something big.

“I won’t say a word to anyone. I promise.”

He examines the end of the burning cigarette perched between his fingers. “Doesn’t really matter anymore, now that Christa knows. She doesn’t live too far away from me. She must have seen that news article and put two and two together.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about her. She didn’t even want to tell me. She actually held back.”

“Wow. Christa holding back her opinion. That’s a first.” His voice drips with sarcasm.

I feel a twinge of guilt. “She covered for me last night, too. With Darian.” Though the bat fiasco wouldn’t have happened in the first place had she not tried to stop me.

His lips twist in thought and when he speaks again, his tone is much softer. “She must really like you.”