Ralph and Danny never found out what the letter said. They wondered if it had instructions to go to a nearby relative, or if it enclosed Joey’s father’s address, or if it simply told him good-bye. What happened next happened fast—Ralph and Danny were leaving and Joey was not. They didn’t know if it was a joke or a test. Their fathers held on to their shoulders as they passed through the glass doors of the diner. When they glanced back they saw Joey with his purple throat, surrounded by empty plates, fastened in the deserted booth as if he’d already become a memory.

On the plane, as the miles began to stretch the distance, Ralph and Danny sat awkwardly with their seat belts fastened. This was a different kind of excitement. Their ears popped, their stomachs lurched, and their fingers gripped the handles of the seats as the wings dipped. When they were feeling brave, they looked out the window. When they weren’t, they bit their lips and thought of home.

They returned to school three weeks after they had left. Ralph was somber and had his arm in a sling. Danny had tiny stitches on his face where the glass from the windshield had gone in. Together they greeted their fellow students with awkward relief.

Later that week the janitor removed Joey’s desk from the classroom. The man opened the lid and hunted through what was there: a dark red notebook, textbooks for English and history, an empty pack of cigarettes, a stack of graph paper, a small black comb, a few broken pencils, and what had once been a sandwich wrapped in wax paper—a purple and blue and green monster of spores and rot that had been festering and transforming and continuing to thrive all the while beside them in the dark.

When the cast came off, Ralph’s arm looked pale and withered. It no longer matched his right. He came to school the following day with a postcard from Flagstaff, Arizona, that read: Seems longer coming back!

“It’s been months!” Danny said. “Is he walking?” They pulled down the map of the United States in front of the blackboard. Danny marked Flagstaff with a piece of tape. The card made its way around the room, sparking conversations and stirring the other students from their seats. They argued over where Joey had been and what he had been doing, but mostly they thought—He’s alive—and wondered how long it would take for him to come home.