Today I am delighted to be taking part in the Dangerous Boys blog tour. I loved the book and the author Abigail Haas's previous novel Dangerous Girls
A big theme in Dangerous Boys is how much is hidden beneath the surface. With Chloe, Oliver and Ethan, we discover that not everything is as it seems, and there’s a hidden darkness in all of us. The question is, what happens when you see just what someone is capable of — and what about when that person is you?
You can never really know someone.
Maybe you think that sounds trite, or perhaps you already learned it a long time ago. But me, I didn’t really grasp it until now: huddled in the corner of the ambulance, watching the medics try to shock life back into a motionless body.
The sirens are blaring, but everything drifts away from me. The noise and the blood, the hands tugging at my body; the light they shine in my eyes and the shock of pure oxygen from the mask strapped over my face.
We’re all strangers, in the end.
I remember something, from a book Oliver gave me months ago. It said that we’re all irrevocably trapped inside our own minds: just as it’s impossible for anyone to truly know us, we can’t begin to hope to know anyone else.
I understand it now.
You can be a part of someone’s life for years, your parent or brother or friend, and then one day they turn around and do something so unconscionable, a crime so great, that suddenly, they’re a stranger to you. You think that their goodness is innate, embedded in their DNA, so you take it for granted, right up until the terrible moment when everything changes. Only then do you realize, those good deeds were actions. Actions that can stop, change on a dime at any time.
You don’t know what’s behind that smile. You can’t imagine who someone will turn out to be. We assume the sun will rise every morning just because it has done every other day, but what happens when you wake up to darkness? When you open your eyes and find, today is the one different day?
I watch them fix the paddles in place on his chest, yell out, and stand clear. I watch the shock jerk through him, the flatline stretching on and on and on.
You can never know anyone at all.