Chapter 42

Cruz’s social media was filled with images of angels and mystical things. It seemed like he might be receptive to that line of thinking as well.

“Friend request him, Goose,” I suggested. “On Facebook.”

“Yeah.”

“What?” I noticed a shift in his mood.

“It’s his birthday. April twelfth, the day he tried to…His, Cruz’s, not Micha’s. Maybe Micha’s, too, for all we know, but definitely Cruz’s.”

“Oh.”

“He writes poetry,” Shelby told us. “It’s pretty sad.Everyone is gone. Here I sit, just me,” she shared. “Even when the room is full, I’m the one no one can see.”

“Shit.” The way Goose’s screen hit the table, I worried for the glass.

“Something else?” I asked.

“Cruz’s brother died, too, just like Micha’s.” He shoved his upside down phone at me, then buried his face in his hands. “Fuck.”