Chapter 2

“Well, everyone called you Abe and I’m sure your given name is Abraham or something.”

“No, it’s Abe, actually.”

Of course it was. Abe Cooper, so much cooler than Jonas Raghnall—both in name and person. But it didn’t matter, they weren’t in high school anymore, and Jonas was happy with his life. What was in the past would remain in the past. He wasn’t wasting any time…remembering.

Chocolate, he needed to get some chocolate, and the romcom he’d planned on watching started on TV in a few minutes, so he had to go.

Life was good—Sunday evening, movie, and chocolate. Nothing that happened sixteen years ago could ruin that.

* * * *

Abe Cooper tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. How many times had he wondered what had happened to Crazy Joe? Jonas. The last day he’d seen Jonas before he disappeared he’d had a horrible feeling and he’d spent many years trying to shake it, but every time Crazy Joe had popped up in his mind it was followed by unease.

Something terrible had happened, and he wasn’t sure, but maybe he was part of it. Joe—Jonas—had been a year after him in school, but everyone knew who he was. Crazy Joe—swishy Joe with glitter stains on his jeans who’d argue his opinion in every matter. He’d been brilliant, though. Abe had always been in awe of the way he expressed himself. In retrospect, Abe had realized how smart he was, and how much he must’ve read to know what he did back then. Sure, he’d argued conspiracy theories left and right and always had a rather grim view of society, but they’d been teens—a certain amount of fuck-the-world and know-it-all attitude was to be expected.

Abe had had it in spades.

Many believed Joe was crazy for real, but Abe was sure it was just a case of being different. High school wasn’t the most forgiving environment. He sighed, wished he’d done things differently, but he hadn’t been very brave back then.

“Well, it was nice seeing you, Abe. Take care.” Joe turned, and before Abe had time to blink, he was several steps away. Panic rose in his chest.

“Wait! Joe…nas.” Abe didn’t stop to see if Jonas would wait. He trotted to catch up with him. “That day—”

“Forget about it.” The smile Jonas gave him was haunted and an invisible fist punched him in the gut.

Not only had Abe played a part in what had happened, but Jonas knew it.

“I…can’t. I-I…what happened? I need to know.” There had been so many rumors. Crazy Joe beaten to death, sold into trafficking, gone into rehab, kidnapped. The kidnapped theory had the biggest following since Jonas never came back to school after the weekend. But Abe had seen him on the Sunday, so he was sure he hadn’t been abducted. He’d heard his mom tell one of the neighborhood women about how perhaps it was for the better to move a boy like that to a different school.

A boy like that

Jonas’ grin was too bright, the shrug too careless to be believable. “I don’t remember.”

Given a little time, Abe could remember the outline of the bruises on his face. The sun had been shining and at first glance, Abe had thought it was some strange shadow falling over Jonas where he’d stood behind the ice cream stand where he used to work on the weekends, talking to an older man Abe had assumed was the owner. His lip had been split and swollen, he’d had a Band-Aid behind his left ear, and a butterfly strip over a cut on his cheek. Someone had shaved off part of Jonas’ thick, wild hair.

Abe shook his head, not wanting to remember the stark fear in Jonas’ eyes when Abe had walked closer to him. They hadn’t talked. A jolt had shot through Abe when he’d met Jonas’ gaze and he’d…walked away.

Coward, he’d been such a coward.

“Are you…erm…” He rubbed his neck. “You wanted to work with the theater, right?” Abe remembered he’d had a part in some school play, though he couldn’t say which one, he’d been too busy making out with Stephanie Samuelsen to know what it was about. He shuddered at the memory of her sticky-sweet perfume mixed with the bubblegum she always chewed.

Jonas tilted his head and a lock of his brown not-quite-curly-but-not-entirely-straight hair fell into his eyes. “No, I never wanted to perform.”

He hadn’t? He’d always hung around the art kids, and he’d never hesitated to speak up if he wanted to say something, had never feared attention. He’d held presentations in front of the entire school, had debated one thing after the other. Abe recalled him being in the school orchestra for a short time, and he definitely remembered him being part of arranging an art show in favor of some charity.