You’d always been quiet, shy, and a little timid, the kind of person who preferred books and corners to the chaos of other kids your age. Your mother had tried, since you were young, to push you into friendships—especially with Nancy Wheeler, who was the same age as you. Trips to the Wheelers’ house felt like obligatory exercises in socializing, and while Nancy was kind, she had her own life, her own world. You usually faded into the background, observing more than participating.

But now, in the chaos of the night your brother Will went missing, there was no fading. Not really.

You and Jonathan had made your way through the high school hallways, papers in hand, pinning up missing posters on the notice boards. The smell of old lockers and cleaning solution clung to the air, and the fluorescent lights made everything feel too bright, too real. Jonathan worked methodically, and you followed quietly, trying not to draw attention but feeling the weight of the posters in your hands like tiny burdens of hope.

From the lockers nearby, Steve’s group was watching.

Carol said “look”

“Oh god, that’s depressing,” Steve muttered, half to himself, half to the others.

Nancy, standing close by, glanced at you before whispering, “Should we… say something?”

Carol, ever blunt, rolled her eyes. “I don’t think he speaks,” she said, nodding toward Jonathan, though her tone wasn’t cruel, just matter-of-fact.

Tommy, grinning in that way that made his friends laugh and groan in equal measure, leaned on the locker next to Steve. “How much you wanna bet he killed him?” he mocked, voice dripping with false bravado.

“Shut up,” Steve said, nudging him sharply, but there was a reluctant smirk on his face.

You stayed quiet, as usual, but your eyes flicked between Jonathan and the boys. You could see the strain in Jonathan’s jaw, the desperation in his movements. And you felt… something stir inside yourself—a mix of fear, empathy, and the tiniest spark of protectiveness.

Nancy looked at you again, silently asking if you were going to intervene or just keep watching. You gave her a small shake of your head, barely perceptible. Not because you didn’t want to help, but because this was different. This was serious.