"You can't blame yourself for what happened," Nanette told Owen. The younger teen shrugged and started walking. She darted forward and grabbed the upper arm of his coat.

"Seriously," she said. "It wasn't your fault."

"I should have-"

"Stop," Nanette said sharply, and Owen fell silent, looking up at her with wide eyes, his pale, round cheeks reddening in the cold.

Nanette considered carefully what to say. "I was really upset earlier. But you did the right thing. You were a good friend. And that's all you can do. You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. Okay?"

She thought of Tommy, and all the times she had wanted to speak to him, and all the times she hadn't. She felt like crying.

She waited until Owen nodded before letting go of his sleeve. Together, they crossed the bridge that led them over the frozen creek and onto the Townsend property.

"You should be my shrink," Owen said, finally.

Nanette huffed in laugher. "No thanks."

"I could get my mom to pay you. Sixty bucks an hour."

"Tempting, but no."