Chapters (95)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Video #1
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Video #2
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Video #3
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- The Final Video
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
Like the stupid skeleton.
“Oh, hey, Hunter.”
He’s no freshman. He’s a senior with familiar features: the nose with a tip like a bulb, the freckles, the big round eyes that look almost childlike.
“What are you doing, Daniel?” I ask. “Why are you filming me?”
“Oh, that.” He looks down at the phone in his hand like it just materialized out of thin air. “Well, it’s an interesting story if you want to hear it.”
“I do want to hear it.”
The bell rings. We all have four minutes to get to our next class. European history for me.
“It’s going to take more than four minutes,” Daniel says. He smiles like we’re in on the same joke, like we’ll both find this exchange amusing. “But I think you’ll want to know what I have to say.”
I doubt it. I’ve known Daniel since kindergarten. From grades four through eight, we were the very best of friends. We did everything together. We watched movies, traded comics. We rode our bikes all summer and went sledding on Hospital Hill on those rare days when it snowed here in southern Kentucky.
Even though we weren’t close anymore, he came to Mom’s funeral and told me to let him know if I needed anything.
And, yes, we made stupid little videos together. The kind you make when you’re twelve featuring army men and dinosaurs and Matchbox cars.
But we drifted apart once high school started. My group of soccer friends—Chad, Hector, Cameron—came along. Daniel went another way. Chess Club. Dungeons and Dragons. When we were best friends, I couldn’t imagine not seeing or talking to Daniel every day. But standing there in the hallway, I can’t remember the last time we really talked. We just didn’t know each other anymore. It’s as though I’m staring at a big chunk of my childhood that’s drifted away. What could he possibly have to tell me?
“Well, please stop filming me, okay? It’s…creepy.”
“I’m not a creep,” he says.
And the way he says it tells me people have called him that before. He’s the kind of guy who lives on the edges of our world, a moon orbiting far away from the center of high school gravity.
“I didn’t say you were. Look, just don’t film me, okay? I’ve got enough troubles right now. And I’m going to be late for class.”
“I saw your video this morning. It looked like you were kind of laying everything out there.”
“That video…big mistake.”
“No,” Daniel says. “It was real. Authentic. Maybe people don’t understand that, but I do.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” And I know what he means. He means—I know who you really are. Better than most people. And maybe he’s right. Maybe we haven’t drifted as far apart as I think.