I shuffle through the school halls, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, but I can't truly concentrate. It's really annoying. I try to ignore the curious stares and whispers that follow me like shadows, but I hear them all even though they think they're murmuring behind my back. Everyone waits for the next chapter in the "Slater and Abigail" saga, but my mind is stuck on what I saw in Abigail's room last night. That partial word... "Paliper..." It echoes in my head.

I don't even know what it means. Maybe I'll check it later. Until then, I just walk down the hall, the strap of my backpack digging into my shoulder, as many fellow students and classmates continue to whisper more about if I can win Bayman King and Abigail's alleged freakout two nights ago.

Desperate for some solace in a place I never thought would offer it... a classroom. And out of all my classes, I hustle into the best one. History.

Mr. Charles makes history class less painful. He may be Coach Charles at P.E., but here he's Mr. Charles. I get comfortable in my usual seat, and spot Kyle nodding back. Here's hoping he's not going to dish anything relating to Abigail. I just want to listen to the teacher. Can't believe I need that to feel better, but with everything that has been going on recently, I'll take anything. Today, Mr. Charles is lecturing about the Cuban Missile Crisis, waving his arms like a deranged orchestra conductor. The other classmates chuckle, and normally, I'd find it amusing, except today my focus has abandoned me. So dazed about Abigail, what could be happening to her, and everything else that transpired these past days, I can't even concentrate. Suddenly, Mr. Charles notices my lack of attention.

"Wilcox!" Mr. Charles's voice booms, snapping me back to reality. "Care to tell us what almost led the world to nuclear war?"

Fellow classmates slowly turn towards my direction with peaked interests, guessing what wrong answer I'll probably give. Even Kyle and Martin can't help themselves, their familiar snickering quivering near my left ear. I try to get back to Mr. Charles, whose eyes narrow on me hard. Hope I don't mess this up. I've never seen Mr. Charles truly upset.

"Uh, sure," I stammer, scrambling for an answer. "Miscommunication and ego?"

The class chuckles. Mr. Charles at first doesn't look impressed but starts to relax himself, his face softening into a knowing look. "Close enough. Try to stay with us, Wilcox."

"You got it, Mr. C!" I nod, trying to appear engaged.

Mr. Charles soon resumes his ridiculous though insightful demonstrations, just as he reaches the chalkboard to explain more about that chaotic event back in the early 60s that nearly started World War III. As much as I usually find this topic intriguing, before meeting Abigail, I would've eaten this up. But since I met her, my thoughts keep drifting back to her. This is the second consecutive day she hasn't shown up to school. Where in the world is she? She can't be with Sophie all this time. Maybe, but I doubt it. Her mother never mentioned anything about her being in a different school. So where is she?

Those pills... my thought soon shifts back to those suspicious small, yellow circular pellets. What are they? Other than the doctor's name still faintly etched on the ripped label, the only other clue that remains is most likely, the drug's partial name. Paliper?

Even though I still enjoy today's history class, the rest of the day drags on with each class being just a blur of lectures and notes that I can't bring myself to care about. For one of the few times, I skip lunch altogether. Not really hungry. All I can do during lunchtime is observe Abigail's vacant spot by the hallway, the chipped paint on the wall behind it looking particularly desolate. Some of the classmates ponder why I'm acting odd. Can't really say it. Except I continue being lost in my thoughts as the classes crawl by. By the time the final bell rings, a pressure is building inside me, like I'm about to explode.

***

After school, I head to baseball practice, hoping the familiar routine will help clear my mind. Coach Thompson is in full drill sergeant mode, barking orders as we run drills. Usually, I thrive under his tough love, but today, even the satisfying thwack of the ball against my glove can't distract me.

"Wilcox, get your head in the game!" Coach yells as I miss an easy catch, his face reddening like he's about to throw a bat at me. I nod, trying to refocus, but my mind keeps wandering back to Abigail's wide, terrified eyes.

"I will, Coach!" I reply.

Holding tight to the ball, I can see Leo and Liam, and others up by the right-handed batter's box, all of them looking at me, trying to remind me to get myself back in this practice. Taking a few chances to breathe, remembering what Coach Thompson has always told me – about pitching my stress away. And today isn't any different; I really need to pitch this stress away. At least for the rest of practice. Don't want to get chewed out again. Time to get back to being me. The me as the pitcher. The hotshot pitcher. Not wanting to disappoint my idol, Jered Weaver, I do my best to refocus on the ball. As I start exhaling in and out, I lean out, right hand placed firmly on the worn leather; grabbing it, I throw a fast one. Liam loses sight, and the ball smacks into Leo's mitt with a solid thwack.

"There you go, Wilcox! There you go!"

Coach sounds ecstatic at the moment. Glad I got him to smile. But somehow, I'm not smiling. As I lean my head down, I start to ponder, have I thrown all my stress out? Because I don't think I have.

A half-hour later, practice ends. I change back into my street clothes, grab my duffel bag and backpack, and head out. Leaving the locker room area, I start to turn on the Uber app. But just as I step outside the pickup area by the parking lot, I soon spot something unexpected. A familiar vehicle.

It's Ness... Ethan's white Jeep, pulling up with a squeal of tires. Didn't expect this.

"Ethan?"

"Hey, little bro!" Ethan calls, grinning. "Hop in."

"Wait..." I ponder, still confused.

"What are you waiting for? Get in."

After pausing for a minute, I shake my head. Finally ready to move, I slide into the passenger seat, deep down actually grateful for the distraction.

"What brings you back?" I ask.

"Just wanted to check on my baby brother," Ethan replies, a playful smirk on his face. "Plus, I've been craving a Dukeburger."

"No way, I miss Duke's." I try to reminisce about the last time I had one of those steamed, juicy Dukeburgers. "It's been what... since December? Before Christmas... man."

"Well, it's time to end the drought."

"So what are you waiting for?" I propel him to get stepping.

"Alrighty!" He exclaims gleefully and presses forward on the gas pedal.

***

Finally, we make it to Duke's Burgers. This place is uniquely different than Bennie's Diner. Bennie's is a 50s-style diner that is sort of a diner you see in Back to the Future and all those other greaser-style hangouts. Duke's is like you take a Sonic's and mix it with a modern-style fast-food place. I may adore Bennie's for the typical burgers, milkshakes, and fries, but Duke's does it differently. If you haven't tried a Dukeburger, shame on you. You must try and munch on a Dukeburger. It's their take on a double smash cheeseburger. Layers of pepper jack cheese melted on steamed, fresh smash patties, layered with honey mustard, a tangy, mesquite mayo-like sauce, pickled onions, ripe tomatoes, and coleslaw; all between steamed, seeded brioche buns. To pair with that outstanding piece of art can be a side of either jalapeno-white cheddar fries or pickle curlers. And to really make it a complete masterpiece, make sure it always goes with a chocolate- peanut butter shake. That has been my go-to every time I come to Duke's... as well as Ethan's.

It's a shame the school doesn't allow us to go to Duke's instead of Bennie's for our celebratory meals. I know most of my friends and teammates, and better yet, 97% of the students would prefer Duke's over Bennie's. It's a fact. Maybe I should push the principal and Coach Thompson—if we go on to the championship and win the title—we should have the biggest celebratory meal here... at Duke's. As soon as we walk in, the smell of sizzling smash meat and melted pepper jack cheese hits me, and my stomach growls in response. Man oh man, I need to get my hands on a Dukeburger sooner rather than later.

Eventually, we order our food and find a booth in the back, the red vinyl seats slightly sticky. After a few minutes, our number—68—is called, and Ethan heads back to the counter to retrieve our food and shakes. Once he returns with the loaded tray, I quickly grab my Dukeburger, jalapeno-white cheddar fries, and chocolate-peanut butter shake so fast, he almost drops the whole thing.

"Slate!" He yells, his balance wobbling precariously.

I simply smirk. "Sorry." I playfully apologize, my hand already grabbing pieces of the gooey cheesy golden and crispy fries. Feeling that right amount of jalapeno kick, I move quickly to the shake, taking a long sip of that thick, creamy delight. Not paying any attention to my bro, I soon move forward to my burger. Unwrapping the cover paper, I take a moment to behold this beauty.

"It's been a while," Ethan blurts out as he grabs and views his Dukeburger.

I know it's cringey, and I would love to say something back. Except what's so odd is exactly what I thought as I view my Dukeburger. It's been several months since we had one. And it's time to correct that wrong. As I take a huge bite, feeling the juices, the perfect combination of all the ingredients, I close my eyes briefly, still chewing.

"I miss this," I say with a pleased smile.

"Me too, little bro... me too," Ethan says back.

We spend the next several minutes just eating our burgers, staying silent to enjoy what we missed. Being here, being at Duke's, this is exactly what I needed right now after my thoughts have been going back and forth like a ping pong match.

"So, what's been going on?" Ethan asks, finally breaking the silence as he still tries to finish his burger, a smear of honey mustard on his cheek.

I hesitate, not sure where to start. "It's complicated," I finally say as I take a few more bites of mine.

Ethan raises an eyebrow, a silent question. "Complicated how?"

I take a deep breath and swallow. Not knowing what to think, I just spill everything—Abigail, the dare, the pills, the confusion, and the consequences my personal mayhem caused mostly to Otto and Lily. I just basically give him a short biography of my terrible few months. Ethan listens, like an older brother should. He just listens, nods occasionally, but doesn't interrupt. He just lets me finish. Once I'm all caught up, Ethan nods one more time, his expression thoughtful.

"Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate," he says when I finish. "But remember, you're not alone. You've got me, Mom, Dad... and your friends."

"Yeah," I mutter, not feeling much comfort. "I don't know how many friends I have left."

"You still got Jake, right?"

"Yeah, Jake is my ride or die; I never doubted our bond."

"What about your fellow teammates, your fellow junior legacies?"

"I got them too."

"So what's the prob? You got enough friends. Besides, only one true one is enough."

I lay back against the booth, still a bit flustered over everything that has been going on. "I'm so lost, I don't know what to do."

"As I said before, you're not alone." Ethan leans over to try and give me the most brotherly advice he can muster. "Remember I told you about your heart? That real strength comes from the heart. Not from winning titles or acting superficial."

"Yeah, that statement I thought you got out of a fortune cookie."

"Don't mock me, baby bro," he says with a playful sardonic tone. "Just make sure what comes out of your heart is pure."

"Got it," I respond, trying to be serious this time.

He pauses for a minute as he thinks about something, a strange glint in his eye. He tends not to share until it's too late. "Time to lighten the mood."

"What are you babbling about?"

"You'll see, baby bro." Ethan then stands up suddenly, and like he's performing at a bad karaoke bar, he begins to butcher Madonna's "Like A Virgin" out loud.

Initially, I want to cover my head and hide from view. But as the other customers and even several of the staff begin to hear it, Ethan sees his little fanfare and begins to overperform, dancing and singing around the restaurant with surprising enthusiasm and terrible pitch. I can only shake my head in utter disappointment, being related to this guy. But he's my brother. As much as I want to hide in shame, I just can't. As the others around us are quite enjoying this unexpected entertainment, I couldn't hide my actual joy. Despite my internal pain, I laugh as he belts out the lyrics, drawing applause from the others. For a few minutes, I'm quite enjoying the mood lifter.

***

Later that night, I head back to Abigail's place, hoping to find some answers. When I get there, Miss Li informs me that Mrs. Perez and Hugo are both out. She still hasn't seen Abigail. She does let me know that at least they will be back tomorrow. Unsure if Abigail will be with them. But until then, she has me posted. Disappointed, I start to leave while saying bye to Miss Li. As I walk down the sidewalk, I spot Sophie a few houses down, sitting on her porch swing.

"Sophie, wait up!" I call, jogging over to her.

She turns, her expression wary, the porch light casting long shadows on her face. "What do you want, Slater?"

"I need to know what's going on with Abigail," I say, desperation creeping into my voice. "I'm her friend. I care about her."

Sophie crosses her arms, not looking convinced. "A true friend wouldn't push. Just let her be."

"But I need to understand," I plead. "Please, Sophie."

She hesitates, then sighs, the sound heavy with reluctance. "Fine. But you didn't hear this from me. Abigail has been struggling with some... mental health issues."

"That's why she takes those pills."

She looks at me sharply, reacting as if I've just revealed a state secret. Abigail never shows anyone she's been taking pills.

"What are they? Paliper-something. What is that?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"I'm not betraying my best friend. If you know anything, I advise you seriously to stay away. You don't know anything about this."

"She's my friend."

Sophie takes offense and rushes to the edge of her porch, leaning towards me, frustrated. "No, you see, she's my friend! Mine!" She looks at me with a determined stare, her jaw tight. "If you do care about her, stop coming here. Because it's only going to get worse."

"Sophie, you don't understand..."

"You don't!" She states firmly. "Don't come back here; just leave her alone." As she turns to head back to her front porch, I just can't stop myself.

"Where is she really, Sophie? She hasn't been at school these past few days. I'm just..."

Sophie turns around, not really wanting to come at my face again. "Why are boys so persistent and stupid? Abigail just didn't disappear, you'll see her again... if she wants to."

"Sophie?! You know where she is."

Before I can get an answer, Sophie doesn't give it. She just walks inside, the screen door slamming shut behind her, barely giving me the answer I want to know so badly. Where is she? What happened to her? Is she okay? However, I get none of that. Just an irritable reply of nothing.

"Thanks a lot," I whisper to the closed door.

So lost right now, I march away, not taking Sophie's subtle threats to heart. But she knows where Abigail is. As much as I want to push her further, I decide to let it go for now. Yet the fact she doesn't fully trust me to know where Abigail went speaks louder than words. Despite impressing her the past few days, she still has that fear and hatred of people like me, people who could hurt Abbie. And that's not me. However, this stupid dare... deep down, I know that's probably hurting her, and she doesn't even know the full extent of it.

Once an Uber ride brings me back home, my mind races constantly. In my room, I pace back and forth for nearly thirty minutes, the worn rug a familiar path beneath my sneakers. Realizing if Sophie can't help me, and the Perez family are off somewhere, Abigail is out there somewhere, dealing with mental issues... and all the clues I have are a doctor's name and a partial word titled Paliper. Needing to know, I reach for my desk and sit on my desk chair, the plastic creaking beneath my weight. Turning on my Mac laptop, the screen flickers to life. I pop onto

the search and begin typing first... who is "Dr. August".

Apparently what I can uncover during my searching online, there is a local child psychiatrist named Dr. Wynn August. It makes sense. As I soon type in the word of "Paliper", hoping there's more to this partial word. And soon my sight catches on the discovery of one long word matching Paliper. According to the searches, there is a Paliperidone. Reading more about it, I see the pills of Paliperidone definitely matches what I saw in Abigail's pill bottle. Scouring more details about this drug, I notice something interesting. Very interesting. What I find shocks me—Paliperidone is an antipsychotic used to treat schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder. My heart sinks.

Is this what Abigail has been dealing with all along?

No one from school knows about this. Maybe one person, but as far as the entire class...they don't know. And I start to worry. Zach has been pushing me to know more about Abigail and report back to him.

This right here, I can't. I really can't.

But first things first, I have to find out if this is true. Is she a schizophrenic masquerading as a Jupiter-obsessed stargazer? Like me masquerading as her friend.