About two weeks into school, Dan and I had fallen into a rhythm. We'd meet before school in the library, finish the homework we (though mostly Dan) had "forgotten" to do the night before, and then head to English together. At lunch, we'd go outside and play a few rounds of chess with the others (by this time, only Shane and Tom still joined us, and they spent most of the time talking about their dates or sword fighting with pencils.) and switch meals. Dan cooked his own, usually a small thing of sushi or rice, and he claimed never to be hungry enough to eat more than my droopy little sandwich. God, he was a saint. I'd started putting little notes in his locker when I put the containers back; just stupid sketches or messages like, "watch out in english, i think the teacher is going to kill somebody!!!" or "you have to take out the trash at work today".

We'd meet for the last time after school, where we would talk to Dean for a few minutes before starting off towards the restaurant. Once or twice, when it was cold and raining, we took the bus, but fall was so breezy and colorful and lovely that I hated to be indoors, so Dan usually didn't complain about the walk. (Well, not too much.)

Dan studied the board carefully. Or, at least, he pretended to—he really was quite awful, but he knew that if he stared long enough I'd get bored and lose focus. Even if he couldn't play the game well, he could cheat better than Jack.

This, playing chess, was yet another routine. Dan insisted, despite all evidence, that he would get better with practice, and so the first thing we would do upon arriving at Mango's was set up my Dad's old board. Business was lax, in such a small town, and the few customers that came, as Dan pointed out, could stand to wait a minute for us to come out.

The bell rang at the front of the shop, and Dan turned to me. "It's your turn to get that," he grinned, leaning against his chair casually. "Go on, time is ticking."

"Why don't you come with me?" I suggested, folding my arms. "Just to make sure there's no trouble back here."

"My dear sir, it's almost as though you don't trust me."

"My dear sir," I mimicked, "I don't think I should." I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the board. "There, now you can't cheat."

"I'm offended."

"And I have to go."

I fixed my apron and walked to the front of the restaurant. Only one person waited by the counter, a boy with a mess of curly dark hair. He was studying the menu boredly, already having pulled out a handful of bills from his wallet. "Can I help you?" I asked, smiling at him from behind the register. Internally, I was remembering that I had left my phone in the room with Dan. And he knew my password. "Would you like a smoothie, sweet, or...?"

"I'll take a smoothie."

"What kind?"

"I don't know, what kind do girls like? Mango, try that."

"Alright, that's three dollars even." I put his money in the register and made the drink, conveniently forgetting a straw because God this guy seemed like a dick. I waited for him to leave, not seeming to notice the missing straw, before joining Dan in the back.

He seemed nervous, standing up shakily when I walked in. "What's wrong?" I asked,

noticing that he hadn't even attempted to move any of the pieces. Even with a "before" picture, Dan would still at least jokingly attempt to cheat.

"Nothing, I just remembered my mom wanted me home early." He started towards the door and paused, not meeting my eyes. "Is Anthony gone?"
"Anthony?"

"The guy who was just in there. Did he leave already?"

"Yeah, why? Do you know him?"

Suddenly, I had that feeling of finding where a piece fit into a puzzle. Of narrowing down a list of suspects, but still having to find the one that did the crime.

"Phil?"

"Yeah. I just—you know you can trust me, Dan, right? I really do care about you."

He nodded and gave me a quick hug. "I'm alright Phil, I swear. I just have to go. See you at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you."

I watched him leave and shook my head, turning to take care of the chess game we'd forgotten.