Stephanie hadn’t been in school for the past two weeks, which wasn’t surprising. I hadn’t heard from her much, either. Her father was home with her now, cleared of all charges and almost halfway through recuperating from his injuries. Charlie was back, too, returned from her stay with friends. Stephanie’s family had been pieced back together, another member seemingly added, unbeknownst to all but Stephanie herself.

I wasn’t sure yet how Stephanie had explained away her absence to her father or the authorities. Probably, she’d tell us when she was back. When she returned. To us. Her friends.

Friend.

It wasn’t what I wanted to be to her. But being someone’s friend meant you’d be there for them when it was hard. Or impossible.

Erik and Stephanie. They struck me as so impossible.

How could they be together? Even if they did love each other? How were they going to share a life when, technically speaking, only one of them was alive? What was going to happen with stuff like prom and graduation? What about college? What about seeing the world? Those weren’t things they were going to get to do together, were they? Maybe, though, since they shared a heart now, they would.

But I guessed the answers to those questions really weren’t for me to know. I wasn’t part of their one-plus-one-equals-one equation. And I guessed that now, as Stephanie’s friend, it was my job to be okay with that.

Really, what was the alternative?

“Lucas?” asked Charlotte.

“Yep.” I glanced up and took another sip of the milkshake.

“That’s all the info about the emails,” she said. “But we were wondering if you’ve heard anything from Rastin.”

I nodded, certain they knew I hadn’t paid a lick of attention to Charlotte’s email debriefing. But they were being patient with me, and friends made a habit of doing that for each other, didn’t they?

“He called me,” I said. “Asked for a check-in, and I hope you don’t mind I gave him the rundown on each of us. He also asked who would be turning eighteen by summer and who would need official parental permission.”

“Why would he ask that?” prompted Patrick, the table going silent.

I inhaled deeply. “He might have mentioned something about featuring us on this new show he’s signed on for, Phantom Stalkers,” I said in one breath.

Charlotte’s eyes bugged. Patrick’s head swiveled my way.

“Uhhhh,” said Wes, pausing with his glass half lifted to his mouth. “Come again?”

I smirked. I hadn’t been holding out on them. Just waiting for the right moment. The one in which I could deliver good news with something akin to cheerfulness.

“He said he’d fly us out.”

“Shut. The. Freak. Up,” said Charlotte as she gripped Wes’s arm.

“Ow,” said Wes. “I mean wow.”

“I know you aren’t messing with me right now,” said Patrick.

“He has a case in mind for us,” I went on, forcing more eagerness into my delivery of the news than I felt. Maybe, though, by the time the opportunity arrived this summer, when we’d all graduated, I would be excited. “He wants us to help him investigate the Waynesfield Wraith.”