Eventually the friends would come. And like always, some faded away like that sandal you just lost in the river but can’t quite reach. Sometimes, the fade wasn’t until thirty years later, sometimes it was next year. Jim Bowden was one of those friends. Jim liked to cause a bit of trouble. Jim looked like trouble too, usually in a smart-ass T-shirt and faded blue jeans. His face wasn’t always clean, like he had something better to do than wash. It wasn’t stupid trouble, more like mad scientist trouble, which was fine because it was creative. Because of this, they could look back on the hijinks with a sense of pride. Good work was good work, regardless of intentions. Tossing smoke bombs into the auditorium during gym class might not have been the smartest prank, but it was an epic one. Of that were was no doubt.

“Throw it, pussy,” Jim had said, stuttering from nervousness as they sat cross-legged on the gym floor.

“You throw it, asshole,” Matt had said, voice cracking.

“You throw this hellacious smoke bomb as soon as Mr. Gaunt turns his back and you’ll be a legend.”

Matt liked that framing. Mr. Gaunt, their good-natured gym teacher didn’t need the hassle, but at that point it didn’t matter. Mr. Gaunt was just an innocent bystander in the way of an epic prank. Matt had gripped the ping-pong-ball-sized smoke bomb they got from Derek Cho, the stocky kid with glasses from home room. Without hesitation Matt lit the bomb and rolled it under the bleachers, the wick spitting sparks and hissing. Soon enough, smoke began wafting between the wooden bleacher slats.

Within a minute, the entire gymnasium had filled with smoke. The students who were cross-legged on the floor leaped like panicked frogs. A few students ran for the exits. Teachers scuttled, waving their hands, clipboards flying. Shouts of confusion and shrieks of surprise penetrated the dense smoke.

When the smoke was at its thickest, and the confusion at its most frantic, Matt and Jim had burst out laughing. Their laughter intensified when Derek Cho hobbled into the gym doorway and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Holy hell what have you guys done? WHAT HAVE YOU GUYS DONE?” This of course triggered suspicion from assistant principal Mary Higgins. She grabbed Derek by the arm and had begun an impromptu interrogation. Through the thick smoke, Matt couldn’t make out much. But what he did make out seemed like slow motion: he could see Derek Cho pull his hand out of his jean pocket and point it right at him.