Confessions of a Murder Suspect

CONFESSION

My brother. Sweet, gentle, weepy Harry. I swear he wouldn’t knowingly do anything to hurt anybody. The real Harry wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not even a hideous cockroach. When he was a little boy, he actually caught bugs in his hand and set them free on the fire escape—when Maud wasn’t looking.

So how do I explain the one time in his life Harry hurt someone? The day when my twin betrayed the person who loves him the most? Sometimes I’m so glad I’ve been given the gift of control over my emotions, because I just can’t even imagine how much it would have hurt me otherwise.

Harry never came to the hospital after my… incident. The most traumatic experience of my life. Malcolm and Maud wouldn’t really say why.

“He’s busy practicing” was Maud’s weak explanation.

“He’s never been good around blood or needles, you know that,” Malcolm said, with a touch of disdain.

Hugo was the one who told me the truth—as usual. He was too young to lie about something like that. “Harry didn’t come because he said you deserved it,” he reported innocently. “Why, Tandy? Why did you deserve it?”

I looked away and didn’t answer.