LITMIR.BIZ

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greetings hung in the air like balloons waiting for something to tether them. But as the seconds ticked by without any follow-up, I realized that a conversation between these boys obviously wouldn’t happen without help.

      I sighed, this time in genuine irritation. I couldn’t believe Joshua had let it go this far. O’Reilly was Joshua’s oldest friend in the world. And they hadn’t spoken to each other in weeks.

      Their awkward exchange tonight was just one example of why I’d practically forced Joshua to stay at this party far longer than he wanted to. Because, for as much as my daily activities worried Joshua, his worried me, too. Or, more accurately, his lack of activities.

      Over the course of just three short months, Joshua went from the friendliest person at Wilburton High to the most reclusive. Like his grandmother Ruth, Joshua had lost his social life; but unlike her loss, his was self-inflicted.

      At first I thought he just needed some time away from his friends. After all, he’d watched those same friends try to kill his sister while under Eli’s dark spell. Who wouldn’t need to recoup after something like that?

      Joshua, however, recovered from the shock faster than anyone, including Jillian. Only a few days later, he seemed as sunny and doggedly optimistic as ever.

      Yet he kept avoiding his friends, long after I laid waste to High Bridge. No more eating lunch with them, no more answering their calls. When one of them tried to talk to him at school, he would take one look at me and politely excuse himself, putting as much distance between them and us as possible.

      Every time I brought up this strange behavior with him, he simply shrugged and flashed me that charming grin. “Nothing’s wrong,” he would reassure me.

      But I wasn’t fooled, nor was I the only one who noticed the change. In October his buddies had teased him about his new reputation as a loner. In November they’d call a few times a day, leaving concerned messages on his cell phone. By early December they’d stopped bothering to do even that.

      If Joshua kept this up, he’d have no friends left by graduation.

      I watched him continue to squirm uncomfortably on the hay for a few more seconds. Then I folded my arms across my chest, squared my shoulders, and gave him my most commanding look.

      “‘Hey, O’Reilly’ isn’t good enough, Joshua. Talk to him. Please. For my sake.”

      Joshua squirmed a bit more but nodded again. He cleared his throat, like anything more than a casual greeting would take serious effort, and asked, “So … a beard, huh?”

      O’Reilly ran a hand over the thick red stubble on his cheeks. “Yeah. I had to celebrate No-Shave November.”

      “And now you’re celebrating … what? Don’t-Get-Any-Play December?”

      “Dude,” O’Reilly protested, “like you have any room to talk. You haven’t had a girlfriend in, like, forever.”

      Joshua’s eyes met mine for just a second. Then he looked back at the fire. “Whatever, Grizzly Adams. You look like a bear died on your face.”

      O’Reilly boomed out a deep guffaw and, before he had time to remember how distant they’d been, punched Joshua roughly on the shoulder. Joshua laughed, too, the sound gusting out of him like a sigh of relief.

      Boys, I thought, shaking my head. An insult and a punch, and all is forgiven.

      Then I grinned broadly, feeling no small amount of relief myself when they began to talk as if the past few months hadn’t even happened. Maybe, if the two of them kept this up, I wouldn’t have to worry about Joshua being lonely.

      Because you are going to leave him, aren’t you?

      Another voice broke into that dark thought, calling out to Joshua.

      “Thank God, man. I thought we were gonna have to hold an intervention. I was afraid you were becoming one of those guys who moves into the attic and starts collecting toenails or something.”

      A figure came strolling toward us, his face obscured by shadows and shaggy, light-brown hair. I knew what I’d find if I could see him fully: a genuine smile, warm brown eyes. Scott, Joshua’s second closest friend, was a good guy. Someone I normally welcomed. My smile faltered, however, when I saw who had followed him across the barn.

      Jillian and her friend Kaylen walked behind Scott, both swaying unevenly in the firelight. When they grew closer, I could see that Kaylen had thrown one arm over Jillian’s shoulder. In her free hand, Kaylen held a brown bottle, which tilted toward the barn floor and spilled its foamy contents onto the dust and hay.

      Both of Jillian’s arms were occupied by the effort of keeping Kaylen upright. Once they got close enough to the hay, I saw Jillian’s frustrated expression, the one she often wore around Kaylen. It made me wonder why Jillian spent any time at all with her supposed best friend.

      Still struggling to hold Kaylen steady, Jillian accidentally bumped her knees against O’Reilly’s.

      “Little help here?” she complained.

      “Any time, Jilly-bean,” O’Reilly said, drawling the “any” suggestively. He reached up to grab Kaylen’s waist; but at the last moment, Kaylen seemed to regain some of her composure. Just as Jillian released her, Kaylen slipped almost gracefully onto the bale between Joshua and O’Reilly.

      She made a small noise—a cross between a hiccup and a giggle, I think—and somehow, annoyingly, managed to sound more adorable than drunk. Even her thick blond hair still looked good, tousled in all the right places. She shifted backward, propping her arms behind her and letting her impossibly short jean skirt ride higher up her thigh.

      “Blech,” I murmured. In a rare moment of recognition, Jillian’s eyes met mine and she snorted softly in agreement. Quickly, she looked away, back at the crowd on the hay.

      “She’s all yours, boys,” Jillian said. “Come get me when she’s ready to go home. Or when you get tired of her, too.”

      With a quick nod at Scott (who so obviously had an enormous crush on her), Jillian turned and walked back into the darkness of the barn. From the corner of my eye, I saw Scott sigh heavily, no doubt pining after her.

      The three figures on the bale, however, captured more of my attention. Well, two of the three figures anyway.

      By now Kaylen had leaned forward again and placed one hand on each of the boys’ knees. But only her left hand, which clasped Joshua, moved. She ran it up his thigh and back down to his knee, talking rapidly as if to distract him from the uninvited touch.

      “Josh, honey,” she slurred. “Does this mean we’re friends again?”

      An involuntary growl escaped my lips.

      Joshua shot me a worried look and tried to move farther away from her without falling completely off the bale. “Yeah, we’re all friends again. Aren’t we, O’Reilly? Why don’t you tell Kaylen how much you missed me?”

      O’Reilly was more than happy to take over the conversation. He leaned around Kaylen, grinning widely at her. “Yeah, dude. I missed him so much, I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep … couldn’t shave.”

      “Bah-da-dum-dum-ching,” Joshua sang, crashing his hand in the air against an imaginary cymbal.

      Unfortunately for O’Reilly, Kaylen clearly wasn’t interested in the performance. She didn’t spare him so much as a glance. Instead, she pressed herself more firmly against Joshua’s side.

      “Well, I know I missed you,” she said. Then she lowered her voice for just Joshua—and, unintentionally, me—to hear. “Can I show you how much?”

      I felt an abrupt wave of heat from the bonfire, sharp and stinging against my back. The sensation was so strong I arched my neck against it. It quickly spread across my whole body until my cheeks flushed and I had to fan my face rapidly with one hand.

      When

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