Who Was To Blame For Shirley Jackson Wrong?

Why I was helping Jackson was unclear to me – I’m not usually a helpful person. I like to detach myself from the world, it is easier that way, only one person to look after, and only one person to blame for my mistakes. That does not mean I regularly make mistakes, quite the opposite actually. I am cautious of my surroundings, and so any incident or misunderstanding I am involved in is generally the other persons fault, for this reason, I enjoy working solo. It also allows me to get an outside view on any given situation, and persuasion cannot play any factor in my decisions.
I thought back to the scenario that got me in this place to begin with, if it wasn’t for my sisters manipulative seventeen year old son, I would not be in this situation

Jackson shrugged and looked in her direction.
“Seven new people started in my geography and science class today,” he started, glancing in my direction before looking back at his mother, “and they all knew each other from elsewhere,” he added.
The entire scenario sounded suspicious, seven new people sounded like a lie, but Jackson was not a liar, he was an exaggerator, but not a liar. He was speaking while he continued to chew, so it was a possibility that he had simply stuttered over the word ‘several’, but something told me that Jackson meant ‘seven’. “Seven?” Abby questioned, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing, “Do you think you’re over reacting a little sweetheart,” she picked her cup up off the table and moved over to the sink.
“Mum I’m not kidding, I’ll name them all,” Jackson pressed, I stifled a laugh, he wasn’t lying but Abby’s reaction was rather humorous. How could she not tell he was being honest?
“Edward,” Abby glared at me and I instantly stopped the laughter and let Jackson ramble through his list of

The photos on the wall behind him stared at me. Abby said they were memories, but they were simply figures she wished to physically see – a reminder of hope that one day her husband might come running back to her.
Jackson finished his mouthful and slid a sheet of paper in my direction.
“Ever been here?” he asked breaking the awkward silence. I took the paper and looked at it carefully. It was an image of a mineral mine situated just out of town. The mine contained the biggest source of minerals in the European continent, and because of this, our economy was flourishing.
To enter the mine site was a very difficult task, as many countries were searching for these minerals and so the access is restricted to work only. To know someone who works on the minefield instantly grants you a free pass into the area. John’s an old friend of mine, my only friend to be exact, and so his involvement in the mine allowed me to peek in and get an inside view on the area.
“Yes,” I answered simply sliding the page back his way. His eyes widened and he looked at me almost desperately.
“D’you know how I can get in there?” he asked, “I’m doing a project on it for science, and I think it would be awesome to get some inside pictures and