Graham’s not waiting by the lakeshore when I arrive today. Right away, my stomach turns queasy. Something is wrong. I’m leaving tomorrow, and we’re supposed to meet early so we can spend as much time together as possible. I put my back in the hammock and wait.

Papa always used to scold me about being more patient. He told me that whenever I felt the urge to do something, I needed to count to thirty and think about it.

So, I count to thirty. After I’m done, I sit on my hands and cross my legs under me and do it again. I close my eyes and try to listen for sounds of him approaching. A minute later, I start walking back the way I came.

I don’t know in which direction Graham’s house is. He’s always already here when I get here, and for the last few days, he’s walked me home before heading back toward the town he lives in.

I close my eyes, and I try to picture Graham walking away from my house. I always run up and watch him every day from my telescope until he disappears into the cornfield.

He’s done it so many times that even when he’s not walking through it, there’s a little path. He told me that I’m not allowed to ever come that way. That his parents wouldn’t like it if he brought anyone home. But, I can’t leave without seeing him. And I know in my bones that he’s not coming.

I start back toward my house. Tante Isabel’s napping on the couch, and for once, I don’t mind that she doesn’t notice me. I run up the stairs, look through my telescope in the direction I see Graham disappear and find the little footpath he’s made through the cornfield and hurry down.

I don’t let myself think about getting lost or about snakes. I just pretend Graham is walking with me and I walk in a straight line, just like Graham does when we walk through the woods. Once, when I asked him how he knew his way around so well without a map or even clear-cut trails, he said, “The shortest distance between two places is a straight line. I just walk straight until I reach the end.”

And that’s what I do. I stay on the trail of broken leaves of corn. Their silky threads stick to the bottom of my shoes as I walk, and every few steps I have to dust them off because they make my steps less sure.

When the cornfield ends, I find myself standing in front of a high chain-link fence. I stick the toe of my sneakers into one of the big links, grab hold of one above me and start to climb. When I get to the top, I’m shaking, afraid of falling, afraid of what will happen when I get there. Worried that I might not get there at all. But I’m more afraid of what will happen if I don’t try to find him.

I swing my leg over and climb down the other side.

I stand in front of a forest that’s even denser than the one by the lake. I look to my left and then to my right. A few feet over, there’s a break in the trees. I walk over and find a narrow path cleared. I follow it and pray that nothing lives in these woods. When I step out of it, I almost sag with relief. I’m standing in a backyard of a small log cabin. I see Graham’s blue shorts hanging from the clothesline.

I made it.

A huge vegetable garden separates me from the house. I walk down one of the rows of greens, making sure I don’t step on any of them. To my left there’s a pen full of chickens that are strutting around, pecking at the grains that lay scattered on the ground. Next to that is another pen with pigs that have their heads bent into a trough where they’re all jostling for a place in front of it. I watch them in amazement. I’ve never been this close to animals before.

All of a sudden I hear a loud sob coming from the side of the house that cuts through the air. Even though I’ve never heard him cry, I know right away it’s Graham.

“Stop your sissy crying, you sinner.” I hear a man’s booming voice followed by another broken sob and then Graham pleading, “Please, stop.”

My heart stutters and then starts to race, its bearings loosening, and I’m afraid it’s going to jump out of my chest. I turn toward the side of the small house where the sound is coming from and start running.

Just as I round the corner, I stop dead in my tracks and suck in a big breath, so I can scream as loud as possible. But before I can, a hand covers my mouth and an arm goes around my waist and yanks me off my feet. Then, I’m being carried away from the house and back through the garden.

I start squirming, but the hand over my mouth only tightens over my lips, further muffling my protests. The arm around my waist only holds me tighter as I’m carried back toward the edge of the corn. I can’t move, and my kicking legs only make contact with the air as we get closer. As soon as we cross over it the hand around my mouth loosens, and I’m set on my feet.

I find myself staring up into the face of a woman who looks just like Graham. From her gray eyes with sparkling flecks that always remind me of grains of sugar, and the thick blonde hair that’s the same wheat color as Graham’s, to her wide, generous mouth. She must be his mother.

She bends down until we’re face-to-face and then whispers urgently, “I’ll move my hand if you promise not to scream. If you scream, you’ll make trouble for Graham. For all of us. Do you understand?” Her eyes are full of panic.

I nod my head. From what I saw, Graham has already found trouble, and I don’t want to do anything to make it worse. She looks into my eyes for a few seconds before she loosens, and then drops her hand. She stays bent, and her face comes even closer to mine. I don’t take my eyes off hers, and I don’t move as I wait for her to speak. Her eyes dart around us for a minute before they come back to mine.

“You need to leave. If his stepfather sees you or knows that Graham has been meeting you, he will kill Graham,” she says still whispering.

Her eyes don’t stay on me as she talks. They dart all around us as she watches the corn. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small envelope. She holds it in front of my face.

“When you get back to wherever you came from, you have to mail this for me. Don’t show it to anyone. Don’t open it. Just hold onto it until you can drop it into a mailbox. If you want Graham to live, you will do exactly what I’ve asked, and you won’t tell anyone that you came here yourself. Okay?” She stuffs it into my hand and then holds my hand in hers for a few minutes.

“Okay,” I whisper, my heart full of terror at the thought that Graham could die.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she traces the curve of my cheek with one of her fingers for a few minutes before she whispers, “I wish I could keep you.”

I take a step back. Maman always warned me about people who steal children. She doesn’t look like she’s dangerous. She just looks so sad. I don’t understand any of this. My eyes dart over her shoulder, and I wish I could go back and see him just one more time.

I look back at her. “Will you tell Graham I came?” I ask her.

She puts a finger to my lips to quiet me but nods yes.

She puts her hands on my shoulders and then turns me around so I’m facing the direction I’d come from.

“Run,” she whispers in my ear and then with a light shove, sends me stumbling down the path.

I look over my shoulder and see she’s gone. And only then do I start running.

My chest is tight with panic as I clutch her letter in my hands. I’m afraid to stop. But, it feels so wrong to leave Graham there. My stomach hurts as images of what I’d just seen flash in front of my eyes, and they fill with tears.

Blinded by my tears, I trip and land on my hands and knees. I squeeze my eyes shut and his stepfather’s face swims in my vision. His face had been so angry. He didn’t look anything like Graham. Except for how big he was.

He had been tied to a post in the front of his house. His back was to me so I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was crying. I could hear it. His hair had been shaved, blood ran down the back of his bald scalp and trickled onto his neck and shoulders. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his back had been covered in long welts. Most of them were bleeding.

Oh, my Grahamstar.

My stomach jumps in my gut before I throw up. When I’m done, I wipe my eyes and stand up. I find the envelope she’d given me lying to my left, and I shove it into the front pocket of my overalls.

I feel a scream welling in my chest and put a hand over my mouth while I run.

When I get to the fence, I turn around and stare at the trees.

I want to go back, but I know that if I do, it’ll only make things worse for him.

So, I climb and keep running. I cover my mouth to muffle my sobs.

Only when I get to the front gate of our house do I move my hand and let loose the scream that’s been stuck in my throat.

Tante Isabel comes running out of the house. “Apollo, what’s wrong?” she asks me over and over again as she shakes me. Her beautiful face is a mask of panic. But, even as I scream and cry in her arms, I know I’ll never tell her. Because she’ll forget about snakes and she’ll walk back through that cornfield to try and help Graham.

Then, he’ll die, and she might, too. That man looked like a monster.

She lifts me up and walks inside with me cradled to her chest like a baby. Her arms feel so good, but nothing could make the hurt in my heart go away right now. She sits us on the couch and holds me in her lap like no one has in years. She strokes my hair and presses kisses to the side of my face.

“We’re leaving tomorrow Apollo jan,” she coos in my ear, using the Persian term of endearment that she usually reserves for my mother when she’s trying to coax her to eat something. “We’ll be back home soon. I know you miss your Maman. I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied while we were here. I wanted you to have the chance to be outside and play like a normal kid. I thought you’d made friends with that boy. I didn’t realize you were so lonely. I’m so sorry.” She continues apologizing and making promises about what we’ll do when we get home.

My tears subside as I lie there. But not because I feel better, but because I know that the longer I cry, the longer we’ll be sitting here, and I have things to do.

“Yes, Tante Isabel. I want to go home. As soon as we can, please,” I tell her honestly.

The letter from Graham’s mother sits against my chest—as hot as a baked potato and as heavy as a rock. I need to find a place to mail it, and I know I can’t do it here. I can’t believe I didn’t get to hug Graham goodbye.

I close my eyes and let out one last sob.

Then, I make Graham a silent promise. If he can find his way out of here, I’ll find him. And when I do, I’ll never let him out of my sight again.