FOURTEEN
My jaw dropped at Peter’s bald statement. Since I’ve been jaw-dropping a lot in the last few days, I quickly sucked it back up to where it belonged, and asked, “You killed someone? Sunil? You stole all of his life?”
“In a manner of speaking. I—”
“You great big a*s!”
He looked taken aback, as well he might, but I was too incensed to apologize for calling him names. “Here I was feeling like dirt because you’re all shiny and clean and pure and don’t steal time, and yet you killed someone nice! You don’t even have Hitler for an excuse.”
“Hitler?” he asked, looking adorably confused. “What does he have to do—oh, Piotr Faa?”
“That’s right.” I pinched his arm. “How could you do that, Peter? How could you kill someone? Especially someone as nice as Sunil?”
“It was an accident,” he
