The boys seemed to be thinking the same thing, exchanging silent disbelieving looks. "No, what? We didn't do anything!" That was tall boy, beginning to go pink in the face.
"It's true, detective," camo boy agreed. Cologne boy was staring hard at the detective's notepad, trying vainly to decipher what he was writing.
Somewhere in the last couple minutes, Chicky had forgotten how to breathe. It was like, she thought dazedly, some kind of opposite-world spell had settled over the store. Up was down, left was right, cops were helpful and shitty boys were made to stew in their own discomfort. If she said anything, if she even exhaled, she was afraid the spell would break.
"Maybe—" Cologne boy's expression looked strained, the words coming reluctantly. "Maybe we misunderstood. Like she said. A misunderstanding."
A small squeak escaped Chicky's throat. She clapped a shocked hand over her mouth as though she could hide the evidence.