It was clear he was dazzled by the news, but I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t even sure how I felt about the prospect of there being others. I had grown accustomed to having a single, secret interlocutor. Our meet-ups made me feel awake to the possibility of wonder and mystery in a way that I hadn’t in years. I found myself preoccupied throughout the day with thinking about our next mission; about what leads we had not yet followed up on, or clues we might have missed. During class, or the lunch hour, I made little mental notes of things I wanted to share with him, and sometimes even had the impulse to text him to gauge his reaction. But of course I didn’t. In class, I made every effort to hide our bond—which resulted in my more or less completely ignoring him. I avoided any eye contact, and no longer called on him like I used to, which effectively meant he never spoke.

Are you still there? he asked.

Yeah.

It’s the Saturday after next, 12 Sequoia Crescent, noon. She wrote it down on a piece of paper for me.

I repeated the address, trying to visualize where in the neighbourhood it was, and then asked him what he thought we should do.

Well obviously we have to go.

I told him it didn’t feel so obvious to me. What if there’re people who recognize us? I asked. Julian’s mother, for instance.

It doesn’t matter.

Of course it does, I can’t be seen with you out of school.

But—

In a stranger’s house on a Saturday afternoon, I mean how—

This is what we’ve been waiting for, he interjected. There might be someone there who actually knows.

As Kyle spoke I considered how, initially, all I had wanted was for others to validate my experience, and offer up answers. But that was before the strange bliss of complicity I had found with him.

Aren’t you curious? he asked.

Of course I am, that’s not the point.

Then what are we doing? If we can’t take the next step, we’re just wasting our time.

I knew he was trying to hurt me with this comment, and he succeeded. I told him that he should just go himself; I couldn’t stop him.

What if I arrive first? he suggested. And if there’s an obvious red flag I can text you not to come. But if the coast is clear, then I’ll text you a thumbs-up. You don’t have to sit beside me or let on anything about us.

He went quiet for a moment. I heard a car drive past him. I can’t go alone, he said. I need you there.