Free Impossible by Nancy Werlin

good." Lucy sounded surprised. Zach thought back to all the times over the years, growing up next door, that he had watched Lucy eat green ice cream.
    There was more silence for a while. Then Lucy spoke.
    "I was right," she said. Her words were certain, but her tone wasn't, not quite.
    "Yeah," said Zach. "You were right. Absolutely. Um, about what, exactly?"
    "Not telling the police what really happened with Gray. There was no point." Her voice was tense.
    "Soledad and Leo agreed with you about that," Zach said carefully.
    "But you didn't. I could tell."
    "It's not that I think you were wrong." Zach decided to be totally frank. "It's that I don't like him getting away with it. I mean, come on, Luce. All that stuff on the news and in the paper about what a good kid he was. His parents carrying on like he was God's gift." He tried to speak calmly but it didn't work. He pressed his lips shut.
    Lucy moved so that she was sitting sideways in the car, one leg drawn beneath her, looking straight at Zach. "He didn't get away with it. He's dead."
    "Good," Zach snapped. He turned too, so he could see Lucy fully. The lights had come on in the ice cream store's parking lot, so it wasn't dark, and her face and expression were clear. "I hope he suffered. I hope it's true that when you're dying, the last few moments of your life stretch out and seem like forever. I hope his were full of pain. Mental and physical."
    Lucy looked away. She said quietly, "I know what you mean. I've caught myself hoping that sometimes too."
    Zach wanted suddenly, terribly, to hug Lucy. She sat all hunched over her ice cream. But he wasn't sure how she'd feel about a boy, even him, touching her. Any move would have to come from her. His hatred for Gray Spencer swelled.
    "I also hope," he said, "that there's really a hell and he's in it."
    Lucy didn't answer, but she didn't stop Zach either, as he went on compulsively, talking about all the tortures that might exist in hell. He was rewarded by how Lucy listened, and how she continued to eat her ice cream as he talked. It was a wonderful release, to imagine Gray Spencer being, say, rotisserie-roasted while a few devils danced around, poking him viciously with pitchforks.
    Lucy actually smiled a little bit about that one. Then some other emotion flashed over her face and she bit her lip. Her brow furrowed.
    Maybe, Zach thought, Gray could be gang-raped in hell. Daily. But he found that this was something he couldn't say to Lucy. Instead he said something that he knew was perhaps more for himself than for her. "It's okay to hate him, Luce. You don't need to feel any pity for him. I don't."
    Lucy looked at him directly again. "Even though he's dead?"
    "Yeah. I'm glad he's dead. He deserved to die. I think he knew it too, and that was why he crashed himself into that tree. I think he killed himself on purpose. He sentenced himself. The one good thing he did, if you ask me."
    Lucy said, "I've been wondering about that too. Because—even though the autopsy said he was drunk—he wasn't drinking, Zach. Not when he was with me. They made a mistake, or he drank something at the last minute, or—I don't know."
    Zach was silent. He didn't think the autopsy data could be a mistake.
    "But suppose he did kill himself on purpose," Lucy said. "Doesn't that make you feel pity for him?"
    "No." Zach had long ago finished his ice cream. He folded his arms across his chest.
    Lucy looked at her empty ice cream cup in surprise and put it aside. "Zach?"
    "Yeah?"
    She took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something personal?"
    "Sure."
    She blurted it out. "Are you a virgin?"
    It took Zach a second. Where was this coming from? He didn't want to answer. But this was Lucy. If she needed to know, she needed to know.
    Still, it was hard to get it out. "Yes," he said, after a minute. "I am." And then: "Well, you know. It's a choice. I've had opportunities. You know. But I just haven't. So, yes. Uh. Yes."
    Lucy nodded, a small movement of her head.