Peter shook his head. Every emotion strangled so tightly in his throat. “Why are you even being like this? Both of you. I’ve dreamed about this my whole life.”

“Yeah,” said Cooper. “When all I ever dreamed about was you.”

And there it was. The sum of all their time together. Peter’s chest shuddered. That wasn’t fair. They weren’t being fair. But before he even had a chance to say anything that could pull all this back, they were done.

Cooper looked across the hall towards Tokala who’d been silent until now. He nodded, as if an agreement had been reached. Becky looked to the girl broad like a bear and another boy Peter hadn’t even noticed before. In a matter of moments, they all made for the door and Peter was left standing.

“What are you even doing up there in the woods?” he called out. “I’ve seen you. Don’t think I haven’t seen you.”

Cooper briefly held back at the door, his dark eyes turning towards his shoulder. But he didn’t turn round. His hair spilled across his face, like any chance Peter had left to sweep it to one side and see himself and all the love Cooper had for him, had finally been lost. Then he was gone.

Teddy took Peter by the arm. “Leave them.”

“Get off me!”

“Come back to mine for dinner.”

“I said get off me.”

Peter grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and ran outside. And the snow hurried over Mainstreet so thickly now that the neon signs were nothing but smudges of bright colour behind the grey. The others started to gather at the door behind him, all thick with whispers. He held back until he was completely sure Cooper and the others had cleared the Lone Star. Then he ran. But he’d barely passed the town hall when a voice shouted after him. Peter turned back and the sheriff staggered out on to the street, his eyes burning with worry for the town and a single word that would topple them all.

“I know,” said Peter. “Don’t you think I don’t know?”

He ran back to the apartment up into the bedroom, tipping the contents of Cooper’s rucksack out across the floor. Undershorts and tees. Tin cups and penknives. Bits of old wood ready for whittling. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing but junk and nothing of use until, finally, there it was.