Using my ring finger, I smudge the charcoal beneath her left eye, producing a shadow on the sketch I’ve been working on for weeks. I’m not any good. The only skill I have I learned from art class. My teacher, Ms. Pierce, is really talented, and she said I have potential. I don’t know if that potential will amount to anything, but I keep trying. I want to get this drawing of Aislin just right so I can give it to her for her birthday in a couple of weeks. Even if I don’t finish, drawing gives me a nice distraction from my life.

I bolt upright and hide my blackened hands beneath my desk as my bedroom door creaks open. When I see Aislin, I release a deep sigh of relief.

“Hey.” My voice is somber. That’s all I say before I let my gaze drift back down to the pad of paper in front of me. She closes the door and starts to cross the room, so I reach up and flip it closed.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t look at her, but I know she’s cocked her head and stuck her hip out a little. She’s probably crossed her arms, too. I know everything about Aislin, which means I also know she is here to check on me. Even though I told her not to.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“No, you couldn’t,” she tosses back defiantly. “You know why I’m here.”

I sigh. “You shouldn’t have come. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

Her muted footsteps pad across the floor before she shoves her hip against mine to perch with me in my desk chair. “I needed to make sure you were okay. I’m really sorry about your grandpa.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Thanks. Anyway, he was old.”

“Doesn’t mean you’ll miss him any less.”

She’s trying to do the right thing by comforting me, and it feels good. Nobody else has been paying much mind to my feelings. Grandpa was Mom’s dad, so she’s been quietly sad, and Dad has been working extra so he could attend the funeral. And when he’s not at work, he’s with Mom. Reece and Tori are both older than I am and have been with their friends a lot since Grandad died. We didn’t see him much, but he was still family.

“You’re going to be okay, you know.”

“Aislin, stop. I’m not going to cry or anything.”

“Well, if you wanted to, you could.” Her shoulder brushes mine as she shrugs. “I wouldn’t laugh.”

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so good for her to comfort me. My cheeks warm with embarrassment. Of course, I’m going to be okay. I’m always okay. I comfort her. She needs me. Not the other way around. I clench my fists. “I’m not going to so drop it.”

“Are you mad?”

I feel her  turn toward me, but I don’t look at her. I don’t want her to see how upset I am. Daddy always said I was a loose cannon when I was angry, but I never really understood what that meant until this moment. I can feel something building beneath the surface. The problem is, if she doesn’t stop pushing me, I don’t know what’s going to come out. I just know I’m going to explode. “Please leave,” I mumble desperately as water gathers in my lower eyelids.

The chair we’re sharing creaks as she leans forward. “What was that?” Her hand lands gently on my shoulder.

I spring from my seat so fast she has to grab my desk to keep from toppling over. The shaking in my hands gets so bad that I shove them into my pockets. As I look down, I notice my wrinkled dress shirt has come untucked.

A knock sounds on the door right before it swings open. My mother’s eyes are rimmed with redness, and she circles her gaze around the room, not looking at anything in particular but taking everything in. Softly, she announces, “It’s time to go, Niko.”

I just nod and brush past her to get into the hallway. Once my back is to Aislin, I dash the heel of my hand beneath my eyes.

“You’re welcome to stay,” Mom tells Aislin, something she tells her every time we leave the house when she’s over. And just like every other time, Aislin declines.

“Thank you for offering, Mrs. James. I’ll go home.”

Mom, too emotionally drained to argue, nods her head. “You’re always welcome, dear.”

“I know.”

The three of us walk down the dark hall into the sunlit kitchen. I pause by the rest of my family who’re donning coats and shoes to leave, and Mom hands me my jacket as she pulls on her own.

Aislin cocks her head to the side, trying to get my attention, but instead of giving it to her, I fumble with getting my arms into my jacket. Once that’s done, I kneel to put on my shoes.

“I’ll see you later.”

I don’t know why, but I look at her then and catch sight of her face just as she turns away. Her smile, always present, appears weak and sad. That alone makes me feel bad for getting upset. I dash outside after her.

“Aislin!”

Her brown hair swirls around her face in the wind as she turns to me. “Yeah?” she answers, crossing her arms across her chest.

I stop in front of her, close enough to see the green in her eyes. “Come back later… if you can.”

Her eyes drift over my shoulder to look at my family filing out of our house. When she brings them back to me, she shrugs and uncrosses her arms. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

I shuffle a step closer and drop my voice to a whisper. “Today’s gonna suck. I could use a friend.”

“Niko! We’re gonna be late!” my sister, Tori, yells from the car. Not that she needs to. I’m hardly five steps away.

Aislin looks unconvinced, but I’m out of time. Reaching forward, I capture her cold hand in mine and squeeze. “Please.” Her arm is loose, and when I drop her hand, it falls limply at her side.

I turn and run to the car, making Tori shout when I crawl over her to sit in the back between her and Reece. By the time Dad backs the car out, Aislin is already gone.

I was right. Today is going to suck.

* * *

Hours later, night has fallen by the time we arrive home. The entire family is drained, both emotionally and physically. The service was small and quiet. It was sad seeing my granddad like that. Besides Dad, he was the strongest man I knew, but I knew after seeing him in the casket—frail and broken, not to mention dead—it would be hard to remember him that way.

I’d try. Granddad always said I ain’t got nothing to live for if I don’t work for it. I don’t know why, but that saying always made me think of Aislin. How she’s had to work more in her short life than a lot of people in this run-down town. I hope that means her life will get easier because she’s got a lot to live for.

Those thoughts scatter as a guttural shout fractures the night air. Five pairs of tired eyes turn to face the house next door.

“What’s the matter? You let me suck your dick for an extra hit last week!”

“Kids, in the house.” Dad commands us inside in a voice void of shock. Sadly, we’ve heard this argument before.

My siblings listen, but I pause, straining to hear the muffled retort from next door, and look between my parents’ faces.

Even though she’s exhausted, Mom dips her head to my level, grasps my shoulder, and says firmly, “Get inside. I know you worry, but you’re no use to anybody standing out in the cold dark. You know our door is always open to her.”

“What do you mean you’re done with me? Who else are you gonna fuck?”

Aislin’s momma is so loud she could be standing in her front yard. Half a dozen other neighbors along the street flip their lights out in response to her shouting.

“Can we call the cops?” I whisper, my stare not moving from the house next door, my heart willing Aislin to come walking along the side yard.

My parents exchange a glance, and my mother looks at me again. “You know we can’t.”

“Why?” I nearly cry in surprise when the sound of glass breaking comes from Aislin’s house.

Mom’s grip tightens on my shoulder, and she starts to pull me toward the house. “Nobody else on this street is going to call the police. We don’t want to make trouble for ourselves, but her momma would know it was us.”

“So?” I argue, getting angry. “Aislin’s in there!”

“Her momma don’t hit her, and her momma’s men don’t hit her. She’ll come over when she can. She’ll be okay.”

The way she said it made it sound like a prayer.

A few more low, muffled sounds come from the house before Aislin’s mom screams. “What’s the matter with you? My cunt not good enough for you anymore? Maybe you like ‘em young. Yeah? You like ‘em young? You been fuckin’ my daughter behind my back, is that it?”

I take two steps toward her house before arms band around my chest and haul me into ours.

Flailing my feet, I kick out, losing a shoe on the porch. Dad sets me down but doesn’t let go, pressing my back against the wall of our living room.

“Control your temper, Niko. Control it. You can’t go flying off the handle. You’re just a kid, but one of these days, you’re going to wind up in a mess of trouble if you lose control like that.”

My shoulders tremble with the speed of my breaths. Clenching my palms so tightly, I cut bloody crescents into them with my fingernails. All I want is to get my friend and bring her somewhere safe. Knowing she’s in that house with her momma on drugs, egging on some strange man, makes me want to throw up.

“Go to your room and get ready for bed. I’m sure she’ll come over soon.”

Knowing all I could do is nod, I do as he says.

I lie in bed, listening to the screams of Aislin’s momma become less frequent and trying not to keep count of how many minutes have passed. Aislin still hasn’t shown up. Knots form in my stomach, and I have to get a glass of water because my mouth is so dry. Something close to panic closes in when I remember the way we left things earlier. She probably thinks I’m still upset with her. Why did I do that? Why did I get mad at her in the first place? She was only trying to help.

After forty-two minutes, and the sounds of my parents getting into bed, I throw back the covers. Aislin isn’t coming, which means something is terribly wrong.

After pulling two hooded sweatshirts over my t-shirt, I lace up the old pair of sneakers I keep in my closet and carefully remove the screen from my bedroom window. Gripping the ledge, I lower myself the four feet to the ground. My toes touch silently on the soft, damp soil.

Creeping across the side yard that separates Aislin’s house from mine, I find her window, the far one on the left of the gas meter, and peek inside. The glow of a light from inside her house allows me to see easily into her bedroom. It’s empty.

My legs shake as I take off around the back of her house, nearly tripping at the sight of the back door swinging wide open. An ocean of sick pitches in my stomach. Someone left through that door, but who and where they went, I’m not sure. As I take off into the woods behind our houses, I hope and pray with everything inside me that Aislin was running to our treehouse.

A shiver runs down my spine. I can’t help but dart my eyes around the unlit area, straining to hear anything other than the sounds of my feet pounding the forest floor and my harsh panting. As soon as I’m far away from the houses, I click on the Maglite I stuffed into my sweatshirt pocket. Compared to the blackness of a country forest, the light is measly, but it’s something. I’d be lying if I said I’m not scared half to death. Every crunch of leaves and twigs beneath my shoes echoes, and I can’t tell if I’m truly alone. Why didn’t Aislin come to me like she always does? Why is she making me look for her?

The running has made me sweat, but I feel so cold inside. The treehouse comes into view, and the panic begins to recede. She’s got to be in there. Where else would she be?

I swallow past the lump in my throat, past the doubt, and call out. “Aislin?”

At first, I can’t hear anything over my own breaths. Not even an animal scurrying nearby. I call out again. “Aislin, are you there?”

I begin climbing the ladder when the wood above my head groans. My heart kicks into overtime. It must be Aislin.

I hesitate a second. Filled with anticipation and fear of being attacked or finding it empty, I poke my head through the hole.

My shoulders slump, and I hoist myself up. “Aislin.”

Her only movement is to squeeze her arms tighter around her knees.

Crawling over to her, I prop the flashlight against the wall for some light and sit beside her. She’s been out here all alone in the pitch-black darkness. “You didn’t come over.”

She responds by turning her head to the side, away from me, and lays it back down on her knees.

“Are you okay?”

“Go away, Niko.” She’s quiet, but the hint of stubbornness in her tone relieves me. My Aislin is in there somewhere.

“I’m sorry. For earlier. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t come over when you needed to because I was a jerk.”

Silence.

My hands tremble so I stuff them into the hood of my sweatshirt, and then I remember why I put on two. Grasping the top one by the hood, I pull it over my head and drape it over Aislin. She doesn’t acknowledge it, but she will. The jeans and tee she has on are thin and holey. They can’t be keeping her very warm, and she’s been out here for over an hour.

I pull in a deep breath. “That man didn’t touch you,” I state instead of question. The thought of dealing with the alternative makes me want to throw up. “Your momma was just high again… right?”

“No, he didn’t touch me. Now go away,” she spits.

I throw out my arm, hook it around her shoulders, and drag her to my side. I wrap her tight, one hand pulling her head to my shoulder while the other rubs at her bare skin, attempting to warm her up.

She squeaks in surprise. When her head contacts my shoulder, that squeak turns into a muted sob, and it breaks my heart. Sometimes I feel so helpless toward my best friend. I can be there for her and sneak her into my house when she needs somewhere safe, but I don’t feel like I’m doing anything for her. She still has to go home and live with that monster of a mother.

I don’t mention her crying. Aislin is stubborn and wants to be strong. Instead, I hold her and wrap the extra sweatshirt around her tighter. When she seems to have herself under control, I force her to put the sweatshirt on. Our eyes make brief contact before she looks away.

“Thank you.”

I take her hand and start tugging her toward the exit but stop before climbing down.

“You never have to thank me, but I do need you to promise me something.” I pause, waiting for her to acknowledge me before I continue.

She nods her head.

“Promise me you’ll never do this again.”

“Niko.” She sighs.

“No. You haven’t taken off like this since we first met and I found you hiding out here all alone. You’re my North Star, but I need you to come to me first if you feel like disappearing. We can go together.” I reach back to rub the back of my neck. “I never want to feel that scared again.”

She hesitates, and when she answers, it’s quiet. “Okay.”