The following day at school during lunch, I try to reason with myself about what I saw last night. That can't be the real Abbie. Her freakout... was that typical? Something she'd always been doing? Something she hadn't told me? Why? I thought I trusted her. Kind of ironic, I'm thinking that after these past weeks of what I have been doing to her. Needing to see what I saw last night was just a fluke, I check Abigail's usual spot, by that corner in the hallway. And yet, to my surprise, she isn't there.

In fact, she hasn't been seen anywhere. Apparently, she has gone AWOL again, and my classmates are giving me weird looks, like I should know where she is. Spoiler alert: I don't. She didn't exactly text me last night, "Oh wait, I'm going to skip school tomorrow."

I hope she's at Heavenly Eats, but it's too early. I don't even have Gwen's number, so I can't even call to see if Abigail is there. If she is, I just have to wait after school to find out. But until then, I have to imagine today is just a typical, normal day. Except it's not. As I cling onto my backpack, holding firm on my single strap, I spot Otto rummaging through his locker.

"Hey, Otto?!" I quickly give him a wave.

However, he barely glances at me, what's worse, he barely acknowledges me. He quickly closes his locker door and rushes forward to his fellow computer nerds, as they all mumble about something relating to a latest gaming computer that just came out. It's a shame Otto didn't even turn to see me. I know I did him wrong, playing with his feelings for Abigail, but was "gently" forced by Zach and the senior judges to push him away. I hope Otto can forgive me. It's a shame, I would love to continue the friendship we quite formed. Though thinking about friendships, I check back quickly at Abigail's corner spot... and still no her. I was hoping for that last-minute surprise.

As the first period is inching closer, I don't even want to look at Lily, but I do. She's with Megan and the rest of her dancer squad, looking... okay. She catches my eye, gives me a surprising quick smile, then turns back to her girls. I didn't expect that. I am giving her space, I just hope that smile is that much-needed reboot to our stagnant relationship. I surely miss her. Thinking about the friends not by my side as of now, thankfully, I've got Jake.

***

Jake and me sit down at the cafeteria table, the chatter of the other students filling the air. As I start picking at today's weird lunch—the odd-looking meatloaf, the very interesting greenish Jello, the wheat bread roll, and the handy-dandy favorite chocolate milk—I notice the other guys—Leo, Noah, Brett, and even Riley and Kyle—start gathering around with their lunch plates.

"So heard about Chris and Susan?" Noah asks all of us.

Chris is a fellow junior and a football/baseball player. He's known for his awkward tendencies and rash, nasty habits. Susan is another fellow junior and a softball player. To all of us, they were one of the most romantic couples at school, been together since the start of middle school. I actually used them to be a model for me and Lily.

"What about them?" Jake ponders.

"I heard Susan dumped him," Leo mentions.

"No... because of what?" Kyle looks perked. "What Chris do now?"

"Chris probably picking his nose again," Riley laughs at it.

"Probably so," Brett mentions.

"What I heard, Chris had eyes on Tara," Noah explains.

"Tara Marks?!" Jake looks shocked. "Not skinny Tara, whose so health-conscious..."

"And who is trying to urge the principal to oversee a garden," Leo says.

"I'll give it to Chris, he sure loves his vegetables," Riley snides.

We all turn to Riley after that remark. I don't know should I even respond to that, or better yet... what that even supposed to mean? Riley always likes to say something moronic and sarcastic at the same time. And to hear Kyle backing him up with something similar... No wonder they are friends. Their brains must work so well together. Suddenly, Brett notices me.

"What's wrong, Slate?" He questions. "You haven't said one word."

Trying to understand myself why I'm not enjoying this interesting conversation about Chris, Susan, and Tara. Maybe it's a strange reflection between me, Lily, and Abigail. Except while Chris is eyeing Tara, I don't have those same "eyes" on Abigail. Like I've been telling Lily, who believes otherwise, that what's happening between me and Abigail is nothing but platonic. Nothing romantic. Though, I don't fully know if that's why I'm not speaking up. Needing a distraction, luckily I got this eerie lunch to save me. Weird for me but fortunate, nonetheless.

"Just when I heard Riley said vegetables, I couldn't dare but to stare at this odd-looking Jello."

"Yeah..." Brett says, lifting his tray up close to his face as he starts to observe it. "What the hell is this?"

"I don't think it's Jello."

As I look closer to my "Jello," I notice things floating inside the glutinous structure. Almost like vegetables themselves—what could be peas, carrots, something else. Now I'm really scared to eat it.

"The lunch ladies sure love to torture us."

"I can't tell if this is supposed to be healthy or..."

"Maybe we should ask Tara."

"That's right."

As we start to laugh, Kyle's gleeful face instantly turns into a frown. "Shit," he whispers among us. Looking to Jake to my left and then Brett to my right, I'm curious what he's talking about. I quickly turn my head around and back.

"Shit!" I whisper myself.

It's our favorite hall monitor, Mr. Reynolds, the Vice Principal who loves to make sure we are eating this delicious eatery. If the lunch ladies love to torture us, Mr. Reynolds wants to remind us daily. As he approaches closer to our table, we all look at each other and begin chewing on our food, some drinking their milk. Most of us barely touching the Jello. And just as Mr. Reynolds walks to our side, I soon notice Jake, maybe fearing Mr. Reynolds might chastise us for not laying an inch on the Jello, decides to gulp the entire thing out of his plate and into his mouth.

I spot his cheeks blowing up like a blowfish, his plumped-up eyes veering toward Mr. Reynolds. I'm trying hard not to burst out in laughter, holding my lips tightly, my cheeks swelling up, pushing back the laugh.

"Gentlemen," Mr. Reynolds turns to us.

"Mr. Reynolds," most of us acknowledge back. And then there's Jake, still with the Jello monstrosity inside his mouth.

He tries to say "Mr. Reynolds," but does it in such an inaudible tone. To me, I clasp back my lips, trying not to laugh out loud. I can see Riley, Noah, and Kyle are noticing and doing the same.

"Mr. Thompson, swallow, my boy," Mr. Reynolds says.

Jake can only give a thumbs up just as he swallows it, in a painful way. Most of us are still holding back the laugh, some of us—I know I am—are actually tearing up.

"Gentlemen," Mr. Reynolds tells us as he nods and walks forward to the next table of kids.

Just as we nod back to him and he walks off, a collective burst of laughter echoes out among us. I can hear Riley turning to Jake, asking if he needs mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Jake playfully disses him.

"I was really dying, you guys," Jake says, but even he laughs about it, a watery sound.

"So how did that veggie Jello taste?" Kyle asks.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jake responds, taking it in from us, but internally I know it hurt.

Needing that to end, I try to regain my composure. But it doesn't last long just as Riley turns his prickly gaze onto me.

"So, Slater, what's up with you and Kooky Abbie?" Riley smirks, leaning in.

I hesitate. "Nothing. Just trying to survive, man."

Riley, being Riley, starts recounting his latest scheme against the principal, thankfully Mr. Reynolds isn't around to hear it. He was already successful in messing with the principal these past few weeks. And we all noticed, we saw and heard what the principal was wearing—some of the funny costumes Riley promised us. But Riley is promising an epic, bigger prank for junior prom. We all laugh and soon take our distraction away from the Bayman King race and talk more about baseball—with our team and in college—and even some of the latest cars and video games. Riley's planning an Apex Legends tournament at his place, and of course, I'm invited. He teases me about Abigail, hearing rumors she had a meltdown at Appleton Park.

Great, how in the world did he hear about that?

The guys join in, laughing and mentioning it could relate to why she is so kooky and why she is so starstruck about those damn stars in the sky. Hearing these teases and the laughter—we once shared about other stuff—is not being used for something not right. And I've had enough.

I slam my hands on the table, making everyone jump. The cafeteria goes silent, Mr. Reynolds even notices, and I don't say a word. I dump my tray and walk out, leaving them stunned.

***

In P.E. class, Coach Charles is doing his usual goofy stretches, making everyone laugh. He even uses poor Fredrick as his example again. Fredrick was trying to get out, yet Coach Charles grabbed him just in time to show us how to do the stretches. And I really feel bad for Freddie; Coach Charles accidentally whacked Freddie in the face. Fredrick collapsed on the gym floor.

As we all on the other side try to hold back our laughter, some of us couldn't. Coach Charles quickly sees what he did and tries to get him back on his feet.

"Sorry about that, Larson."

Freddie holds his nose and just slowly nods as he decides to walk back to the bleachers, a trickle of blood already visible. Then Coach Charles instructs us to follow him, while he lets Freddie take his five-minute break. I can't tell if Freddie broke his nose or something, but he is there covering it up with his hands and is just shaking his head, wondering why this keeps happening. First dodgeball and now this.

I feel for him. Though as I follow Coach Charles' lead, I can't help but look around for Abigail. Still no sign of her. I see Otto struggling through the stretches and decide to talk to him.

"Hey, Otto," I say, keeping my voice low. "Seen Abigail?"

He adjusts his glasses and shakes his head. He finally speaks, his voice flat, "No. I've been staying away like you said."

I feel a pang of guilt. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you away. I just... I didn't know what else to do."

Otto doesn't respond; he'd rather focus on doing the stretches, his movements stiff and uninviting. As I try to help him out, he doesn't even try and subtly moves away from me. I know I deserve his silence and his disrespect. As I go on to continue my stretches, I keep glancing around, hoping to see Abigail. Nothing.

***

Later at Riley's place, the guys are gathered for the Apex Legends tournament. The room is filled with the smell of meat lover's pizza, chips, pretzels, and soda. Light beer is passed around, and the atmosphere is electric. Riley's basement is the ultimate teenage hangout spot, with posters of sports cars and rock bands plastered on the walls, a massive TV screen, and a collection of gaming consoles that could rival a GameStop. The couch is old but comfortable, with a few suspicious stains that no one wants to investigate. We're all sprawled out, controllers in hand, shouting and laughing as we battle it out on the screen. I notice even Riley invited Zach and some senior judges... hopefully, this isn't a bribery thing to try and impress them, to make him worth winning. But regardless, it's nice to hang out with some of the seniors.

The gaming gets intense, with shouts and laughter echoing through the room. I try to focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Abigail. As the game winds down, the conversation shifts to girlfriends and relationships. Jake, Liam, and Noah are single, but the rest of us—me, Riley, Kyle, Leo, Brett, and even Zach and Tristian—are navigating the complexities of dating. The guys start probing about me and Lily, assuming our issues are tied to the dare with Abigail.

"Man, you gotta keep your head in the game," Riley says, nudging me with his elbow. "Don't let Kooky Abbie mess you up."

Zach chimes in, reminding me of the updated dare. "So, what's the scoop on Abigail? What have you found out?"

I hesitate, feeling the weight of their expectations. Thinking about the time I've spent with her at Heavenly Eats and at her place in the Lower Sixth District. "She's not what you think. She volunteers at a soup kitchen, she's got a family, and she has friends outside of Bayman."

The room falls silent, and then Riley snorts, a harsh, dismissive sound. "Still Kooky Abbie, though. She's always gonna be that crazy girl."

Their words sting, but I try to defend her, a surprising surge of protectiveness rising within me. "You don't know her like I do. She's more than that."

They pressure me, reminding me that it's just a game, and by the end of the semester, it'll be over. I can't fully commit to their view, struggling to reconcile my feelings. I need to see her.

***

I make an unexpected trip to the Lower Sixth District, back to Abigail's neighborhood. Once I get to Abigail's place, Miss Li notices me and waves, her smile warm. I wave back and even ask her if Abigail is inside. She hasn't seen or heard from her personally. She lets me know Mrs. Perez is inside; maybe she knows. Hopefully, she does. I knock on the front door of the Perez residence, and there, answering the door, is Hugo.

"Hey Hugo, do you know where your hermana is?"

"My sister," he says cheekily, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yeah." I figure that was his way to mess with me, seeing how he knows his English pretty well.

"I don't... Mama!" He hollers, disappearing further into the house.

I turn back slightly to see Miss Li smirking, I can tell she's used to this. I soon turn back to hear Mrs. Perez as she approaches the door.

"Ah, Slater, nice to see you." She then opens the screen door and waves me in. "Come inside, come inside."

As I appreciate her welcome, she stays by the door for a minute to chat with Miss Li. I wait, sitting on the worn couch, and there Hugo nods, but not in a good way, his eyes narrowed. I don't know what that boy is thinking, but he's scaring me a little. As I wait patiently, Mrs. Perez soon finishes up her talk with Miss Li and closes her door. She then turns to me, her expression a mix of concern and weariness.

"I see you were looking for my Abigail."

"Yes, ma'am, I was just wondering if she was here..."

"Unfortunately, Abigail is sleeping over at Sophie's."

"Sorry, I thought she was here," I apologize, a wave of disappointment washing over me. "I wanted to know where she was all day; she wasn't at school nor the soup kitchen."

Mrs. Perez tries to keep something away from me, not willing to say it. She instead offers me a chance to eat. I can't tell if she knows why Abigail didn't show up to school or if Abigail has been lying to her. Not understanding what's going on, I decide to take her offer.

Minutes later, I'm already sitting at the kitchen table covered in a floral tablecloth, the plastic slightly sticky beneath my elbows. Hugo is inside his room already with his plate, not willing to sit by me. But I heard from Abigail that Hugo tends to eat in his room occasionally, so it doesn't surprise me. The kitchen itself is small but cozy, with bright yellow walls that feel surprisingly cheerful. The smell of spices fills the air as Mrs. Perez serves up her specially-made quesabirria, a cheesy, beef-filled delight with a side of consommé for dipping. The food is amazing, and I ask for the recipe for my mom. Mrs. Perez laughs, a warm, genuine sound, and agrees to share it.

Then she gets serious, her eyes searching mine. "Slater, are your intentions with my mija real? I've heard what those students say about her."

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of her question pressing down on me. "At first, it was just a dare. But now... I genuinely care about her."

As I think about Mr. Perez and why I haven't seen him, a sense of unease settles over me. However, needing to know, I soon think about that "día oscuro" Abigail told me about. I ask Mrs. Perez about it, my voice hesitant.

Mrs. Perez nods, tears welling in her eyes. She at first doesn't tell me yet instead wants to show me something. She tells me to follow her to Abigail's room. As I head in, I see the familiar space-themed and Jupiter-themed flyers and posters hanging around her room, a vibrant, chaotic universe contained within these four walls. Mrs. Perez is soon reaching over to Abigail's nightstand drawer, her hand fumbling slightly as she tries to rummage.

Just as she grabs what she is looking for, she takes it out, but as she does, she accidentally shakes the nightstand. A strange, cylindrical plastic tube, the color of faded sunshine, falls onto the worn linoleum floor. It rolls nearby me. I grab it quickly. Mrs. Perez is so focused on what she has in her hands, she barely registers what she knocked down. As I start to tell her, Mrs. Perez then sits down heavily on the side of Abigail's neatly made bed, her gaze distant. I quickly slip the bottle into my pants pocket, waiting for the right moment.

Mrs. Perez soon explains to me about the "día oscuro." It was, in fact, the day Mr. Perez passed away nine years ago. It shattered their family, especially Abigail. But what gave Abigail a much-needed solace was astronomy. Mrs. Perez looks around the room, her eyes lingering on the space-themed posters and all of the space-specific paraphernalia. She laughs softly, a melancholic sound, and mentions it was because of Abigail's grandfather, her late husband's father, who was a NASA astronaut.

Wow, I didn't know that. So this is the origin of her love for everything space. Surprised Abigail didn't mention that to me. I would've been so jealous. It's cool to have someone in your family be an astronaut. My grandparents are real estate developers and retired business financiers. Can't exactly be inspiring for that.

Soon Mrs. Perez invites me to come over, so she can show me what she grabbed out of Abigail's nightstand drawer. Sitting next to her, I see what she's been caressing is a treasured picture of a young Abigail with her father and grandfather in front of NASA's headquarters. In the photo, young Abigail, maybe seven or eight, is beaming with excitement, her front teeth adorably gapped. She's holding her father's hand, a tall man with a kind smile and eyes full of pride. Next to him stands her grandfather, wearing a slightly askew NASA cap, with his arm around Abigail's shoulders. They're in front of a massive rocket, its sleek frame towering above them, a symbol of dreams reaching for the stars. The sky is clear and blue, the sun shining down on this perfect, frozen moment. Abigail's joy is palpable, her eyes sparkling with the dreams of a young girl fascinated by the cosmos.

Mrs. Perez then asks me again if I'm a true friend, her voice laced with a quiet urgency. "There are friends, and there are true friends. Sophie is her true friend. What type of friend are you, Slater?"

"I..."

Before I can fully let out a proper answer, if any, a sudden, muffled noise rocks us. Suspecting it might be coming from Hugo's room, a low thud followed by a whimper.

"Mijo?!" She alerts loudly, her voice laced with immediate concern. Not getting anything back, she apologizes to me quickly as she gets up, her movements swift. As she places the photo carefully back on top of the nightstand, she hurries out to check on Hugo.

I soon ponder her words. And as I take that question to heart, "What type of friend am I?" Doing this dare... is this really what's best? As I stare at the picture of young Abigail with her father and grandfather, a pang of guilt twists in my gut. I want to honestly tell her mother that I am a good friend.

But am I lying to myself?

As I subconsciously feel my left pants pocket, my fingers brush against the cool plastic. I soon realize what I put inside. Taking the bottle back out, I notice it's a prescription pill bottle. And as I look closely, there are what look like a cluster of small, yellow circular pills rattling inside. Turning the bottle around, I notice the label, mostly scratched off, has some words etched on the ripped paper, the ink faded but still legible in parts.

Curious, why did Abigail rip the label?

Looking closer, I see the partial words "Dr. August" and "Paliper..." Unsure what this means, a cold wave of apprehension washes over me. What is this? What's wrong with Abigail?

I feel the weight of the bottle in my hand, and a sudden, fierce determination solidifies within me. I need to find out. Abigail deserves to know what kind of friend I truly am. I need to understand what she's going through and be there for her, no matter what. I have shown her at times that I can be that friend she needs. I just have to remind myself, before it's too late, what being that friend truly means.