"Farren, stop feeding Mickey! This is why he begs!"

                Farren looked up at his mom and gave a sweet smile. "He looks at me with those big eyes, mom."

                She shook her head. "Then look away. He's getting fat."

                "Mick." Corr snapped his fingers and the dog ran over obediently. Corr opened the back door and Mickey ran outside, bounding around the backyard happily. Corr watched him run and sighed. "I see those stupid chipmunks again. They're digging up the garden. I'll have to set Farren up as my exterminator."

                "No! Absolutely not. Farren is not touching your guns," Mrs. Corr said sternly.

                "He knows gun safety, he'll be fine," Corr said dismissively.

                "Fine like Tyson Strazio? I like my boy with both of his eyes," Mrs. Corr said.

                Farren stifled a laugh. "Damn mom, don't sugarcoat it."

                "Tyson was a little boy fooling around," Corr said. "Farren's almost an adult."

                "Nolan, do your parents let you use guns?" Mrs. Corr said.

                I shook my head. "No, ma'am. My mom doesn't like guns."

                Mrs. Corr gestured to me. "There, see? Farren's not using your guns, end of discussion."

                "End of discussion until the chipmunks ruin the garden and you complain at me to do something about it," Corr grumbled.

                "Yea, yea, your garden is screwed and I still have perfect eyesight," Farren said.

                "Anyways, did you boys come up with any fundraising ideas?" Corr asked.

                Farren shrugged. "We wanted to do our homework first. We were going to talk a bit more about it after dinner. Probably just the usual little things, you know, like a car wash and pancake breakfast."

                "Do a car wash. My car is filthy," Mrs. Corr said. "It's the only thing that will have your father cleaning it."

                "I've been a bit busy looking into this whole breaking and entering issue with the Braxton students," Corr said. "And now Patrick Mallory is sticking his nose into police business. Money gets you information, I guess. I wish he'd go bother someone else."

                "What's he doing?" Farren asked, and the question sounded like mild curiosity but I could see how closely he was paying attention now.

                Corr shrugged. "Just the usual. Wants to know everything about the investigation, wants to toss some money at the cops so he can say he helped. He keeps blabbering about how he wants to keep his family safe from these social menaces. That's his name for them. Social menaces. Just a bunch of criminals, if you ask me."

                "Has this been going on for a long time? I'm still pretty new to the town and Braxton," I said.

                Corr nodded and sighed. "It's been happening for a few years, actually. It took a little for everyone to realize it was probably one group. They always strike at night, they always seem to strike random targets, and they always go for Braxton students. We think there's some sort of service, you know, a way for the kids to hire these criminals to go after targets."

                "This isn't a dinner time discussion," Mrs. Corr said. "Especially not with Farren's friend here. You're going to worry the poor boy."

                "A good security system is what everyone needs. We have a good security system, and no one's ever broken in and threatened my kids," Corr said.

                "Right, dad. Not everyone has the money to toss at a good security system," Farren said, standing up. "We're done eating. We're going to talk over some ideas a bit more."

                "Alright. I'll deal with your father's ranting," Mrs. Corr said.

                "Dinner was very good. Thank you for letting me stay," I said with a smile.

                "You're welcome anytime, Nolan," Mrs. Corr said, returning the smile.

                "Breath of fresh air from Tyson, huh?" Farren said. "This guy actually smiles and says thanks. Let's go."

                I followed Farren back to his bedroom and he shut the door. He sat at his desk and I sat back up on his bed.

                "Don't you have a sister?" I said. In the family pictures around the house, there was a girl with them.

                "She's at college," Farren said. "Just hang out here for another hour and then go home. I have things to do tonight."

                "I can leave now if you're busy," I said.

                He shook his head. "I need my parents to believe we're actually working on plans for the Social Action Club."

                "You guys still don't trust me, huh?" I said, smiling a little.

                "Nope," Farren said. "But that's because we don't know the real you. Ty is convinced there's a whole other side to you and I think he's right."

                "And what about him? I doubt you all follow him because his asshole personality is endearing to you," I said.

                "We've all known each other for a while," Farren said. "You're the outcast, remember?"

                "You guys don't let me forget," I said.

                "Well, shut up and go on your phone or something," he said, getting up and heading to his closet. "I have stuff to do and we have time to kill."

                He opened his closet and pulled a box out. He began taking things out of the box and labeling prices on them. As curious as I was, I figured it was best to just go on my phone and pretend he wasn't doing anything at all.

                After an hour of us not talking, Farren opened his door and gestured me out. I got off his bed and grabbed my stuff, Farren following me out.

                I pulled my shoes on and peeked my head into the living room, where his parents were sitting. "Thanks so much for having me!"

                "You're probably the nicest of his friends, you're welcome back anytime," Mrs. Corr said cheerfully.

                I laughed and Farren opened the door for me. "See you at school, outcast."

                I left the house and got in my car. I drove myself back home, glad I'd gotten out of the house even if it had only been part of Tyson's plan. Brian was always busy with work and sometimes I got bored alone in the house.

                And lonely. But I was 17 years old, and I was too old to be complaining about wanting my Uncle to be home more. He was a grown man with a job, and I wasn't even his son.

                I parked at Brian's house and went inside. "Uncle Brian? I'm home!"

                There was no response, meaning he was probably at work. I went into the kitchen, seeing a sticky note on the cupboard. I pulled it down, reading the short messages.

                "Nolan- Your mom called" was all it said. I tossed it in the garbage and went upstairs, setting my bag down and pulling out my cell phone.

                I dialed my mom's number and laid on my bed as it rang. I hadn't talked to her or my dad in a long time. I'd just been so distracted I hadn't thought to call them and check in.

                "Hello?"

                It was almost weird hearing my mom's voice. "Hi, mom. Brian left a note that you called."

                "Oh, I did! He said you were with a friend, so I told him to have you call me when you got back home so I didn't bother you. You are making friends?" Her voice was quiet and anxious.

                "Yea, of course!" I lied. "I joined a Social Action Club and I've been making friends with the members. I slept over my friend Tyson's house the other night and just had dinner with my friend Farren tonight." They weren't really my friends, but I didn't want my mom to worry.

                "I think Braxton was a good choice for you," she said. "You're getting out and being social? You're keeping up with your work?"

                "Yes and yes," I said. "My grades are fine. The work keeps me busy when I'm at Brian's house. And I told you, I joined a club and made some friends. We do volunteer work, which gets me out and social."

                "Good, good," she said, and the relief in her voice killed me. "Well, I don't want to keep you. I just wanted to check in on you. Try to text me every once in a while so I know how you're doing."

                "Of course! I've just been super busy with school and the club," I said.

                "Bye, Nolan. I'll talk to you later," she said and hung up.

                I set my phone down slowly. Conversations with my parents were always awkward now. They were probably glad I was gone and someone else's problem.

                I shook my head. That wasn't fair to them. They'd done their best when everything happened. It had been stressful on everyone.

                The house suddenly felt too quiet. I hugged my knees to my chest, looking around the empty room. I couldn't hide, not even here in a new town.

                I thought about back home, about the boy I used to be. People grew and changed. Some people twisted into something mean and sharp like Tyson. Some people twisted into something nice and desperate like me. If you were mean enough, maybe you could scare your demons away. If you were nice enough, maybe you could outshine your demons. Who knew if any of it worked in the end.

                I got off the bed and grabbed my wallet, hurrying out of the house. I got in my car and turned my music up loud as I started driving towards the coffee shop Tyson had taken me to. I didn't know many places where I could go around here, and at least there would have other people and the white noise of conversation to keep my mind from straying.

                I reached the place and parked my car, getting out and heading inside. I ordered a drink and sat at a table in the corner, clutching the drink in my hands and trying not to think anymore.

                This is why I wanted something like the Social Action Club to keep me busy. So I could hide from my past until I could move on from it all. Maybe I could convince everyone around me that I was getting better, but I couldn't lie to myself.

                "Stealing my spot now?"

                I looked up at Tyson. He had a drink in his hand and an eyebrow arched as he looked at me.

                "I'm not in the mood for your shit attitude," I warned, all kindness gone from my voice. I felt tired, far too tired to force kindness around someone like him.

                But Tyson dropped into the seat across from me. "Oh, this is an interesting side of you."

                I reached for my car keys, but Tyson snatched them and put them in his pocket. I shot him a glare which he countered with a grin.

                "I want to chat," he said. "My parents brought me here after I helped out at the community center with them, and they're going to be going on and on about the next play while they eat. I don't want to deal with it. You're far more interesting, believe it or not."

                "I'm not here for your entertainment," I said.

                "Everyone is. That's how I like to look at the world," he said. "Well, what I can see of the world, anyways."

                I swallowed down a mean comment. As bad as my mood was, I wasn't going to take cheap shots at Tyson.

                "Just leave me alone," I said, feeling the fight draining out of me. "Please."

                Tyson drummed his fingers against the table thoughtfully. "You know, outcast, when we were little, I was having a shitty day. Farren told me I looked like an abused puppy. Then he gave me this whole big, hearty speech about how I was still his best friend, and ended it by punching me. Do I need to do that to you? Not the big, hearty speech about how we're best friends, but the punching bit."

                "You could give me back my keys so I can go home," I said.

                He shook his head and stood up. "Come with me."

                "I don't want to," I said.

                "Too bad. Get your ass up and let's go. I'm not a patient man," he said.

                I reluctantly got up. I didn't have much of a choice since he had my car keys. If I did what he wanted, maybe he'd give them back and I could leave.

                Tyson walked over to a table where his parents were sitting. "Dad, car keys. Nolan and I are going for a drive."

                "For how long?" Mr. Strazio said in confusion. "We need to get home too, Ty."

                "I'll be back for you, don't worry," Tyson said, holding his hand out.

                "Just give him the keys. We'll be here for a while, anyways," Mrs. Strazio said. "But only give him the keys if he uses his manners."

                "May I please have the keys, oh beloved parents of mine?" Tyson said.

                "You may, beloved son of mine," Mrs. Strazio said.

                "You don't even have them," Tyson said.

                "Here. Try not to be too long," Mr. Strazio said, handing Tyson the keys. "Hi, Nolan."

                "Hi Mr. Strazio, hi Mrs. Strazio," I said.

                "Bye Strazio family," Tyson said, pulling me with him out of the coffee shop. We got in the car together and Tyson hooked his phone up. "Now, let's see what emotionally touching songs I have for this drive."

                He decided on a song and backed out of the parking lot. We started driving down the road, the streets dark and quiet. I hadn't even realized how late it was, though I'd spent a good while at Farren's house.

                "Let's go out in flames so everyone knows who we are, because these city walls never knew that we'd make it this far. We've become echoes, but echoes that faded away, so let's dance like two shadows burning out our glory days." The music filled the car as Tyson turned off the main road and started down a side road.

                "I don't need your life story, I don't need your emotions," he said, rolling the windows down and letting the cool night air whip against us. "I needed to clear my head, too."

                "Maybe you'd have more room for your thoughts if your ego wasn't taking up so much space," I said.

                He grinned again. "Maybe. But I like my ego."

                "Someone has to." I turned my head, watching the world blur by. The houses lining the road were dimly lit and the only sounds were the music and the wind. I closed my eyes, remembering late night walks all those years ago. The cold creeping in through our jackets but our troubles more important than our warmth.

                Troubles. Warmth. He never did end up borrowing my hoodie the next day.

                "You're still in your uniform."

                I opened my eyes and looked back over at Tyson. "I was with Farren most of the day. I didn't think to change when I stopped home."

                "Spending the day with Farren will put just about anyone in a bad mood," he said. "He try to sell you something? You seem like the kind of guy who'd be suckered into spending a fortune on junk."

                "No. We just did our homework," I said. "That's another way you stay ahead, isn't it? Farren gets information from his dad on the investigation."

                "Well, duh. If you have a policeman on your team, don't bench him," Tyson said. He rested his arm on the window, the wind blowing his hair around his face. "We take any advantage we can get our hands on. If we get caught, we're fucked."

                "What drives you to do it?" I said. "Greed? Is it the money? Or do you actually give a shit about the people you're helping?"

                "I have my reasons for doing things," he said.

                "Well I'm part of this now. Maybe it's time you share those reasons," I said.

                Tyson shrugged. "The money is a nice bonus. It's not much when we split it, but it starts to add up. I also love getting back at those cocky pricks at Braxton. That's always a plus."

                "But it's not what drives you," I said.

                "And you? You have a personal stake in this. Don't think I haven't noticed," he said. "And I can tell it's not that you're some tragic sob-story bully victim."

                "Is It Mallory?" I said. "Is he what pushes you to do these things?"

                Tyson's lip curled slightly. "Mallory never played a part in my life. And that's the whole thing, outcast. Sometimes what a person doesn't do is more impactful than what they actually do."

                I knew that. I knew that so damn well it hurt. My throat burned with all the unsaid words from years ago. My shoulders were heavy with the weight of the actions I never took.

                "The things people don't do are so much worse than the actions they could take," I said, hating the bitter tone in my voice. "Noise fades into the background, but silence is what drives you crazy in the end."

                Tyson gave the smallest nod. "Seems we're in the same bitter boat here."

                "I want to be a different person," I said. "I want to be the nice guy."

                "You're not. We both know it. No one gets through life without being ripped apart and put back together with pieces missing," he said. "We grow and change and that's just how it goes. You can try to be the nicest guy on the fucking planet, but it'll always be a façade and you know it."

                I fell silent and stuck my head out of the window, letting the cold air crash over my skin. I could see the stars above us, so far away, so small from where we were. But from up there, we were just as small. The world was so big, so vast, and I was just one out of billions. What difference could I make with a forced smile?

                "Maybe I can't change myself," I said at last, sitting back against the seat. "I want to make a difference, though. I can help people. Let's go for those bigger targets, Tyson. Let's save these victims before they're the next ones ripped apart."

                Tyson held his hand out to me. I steeled myself and reached out, our hands meeting in the middle. We shook once and released each other.

                "Let's be so loud they never hear silence again," Tyson said.

                "No more inaction," I agreed.

                Tyson grinned. "We're going to be one hell of a menace, Nolan."

                I didn't miss the use of my name. "Let's give them hell."

                Tyson turned his music up louder and the car sped up. The wind howled past us as we drove into the night, determination strong in our hearts.