I watch his eyes search the room and then brighten when they land on Maurice. Then he says, I hope I don’t screw this up.

Seriously, what planet am I on?

James finally calls. I think I’m in hell, he says. Meanwhile, I think it’s heaven to hear his voice.

James’s parents’ house in Connecticut has columns, water views, landscaped gardens. Is it really so bad? I ask.

He pauses and the line crackles when he answers, It’s Dante’s ninth circle, Michael.

Which circle is that? I ask. We don’t get to Dante until next year.

He breathes out one word that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck: treachery.

I really need a cigarette, he says after pause.

I ask, Do you want me to send you some? Cigarettes are almost a dollar a pack now, and I have no idea how much postage would cost, but I’d do it if he asked.

Thanks, he says. I’ll sort something out.

There’s another pause. An odd uncomfortable silence that demands to be filled with the question I don’t know how to ask, but need to.

Are you okay?

James makes a sound that’s something like a sigh, then says, Let’s just say I’m not spending a lot of time looking in the mirror. Lord, I hope those doctors took sewing in school. I’d hate to think the only roles I’m ever going to get are as Frankenstein’s monster.

I’m glad to hear him joking, but there’s no trace of the smile I expect to hear in his voice.

What did the police say? I ask, although I know from Andy they have no suspects.

Oh, Michael, seriously? What do you think they said? That it was random. Wrong place, wrong time. That sort of thing. But even if they’d caught someone, you know how these things play out. They’ll claim I made a pass as them, that they simply couldn’t help but protect themselves from the onslaught of my passions. As if.

Anyhow, he continues, I’m getting a lot a reading done. And all of my old albums are here, and Mother’s doctor is loose with the pain killers, so it could be worse.

Without James, the city is duller.

With so little time before school starts, I feel like even trying to make something of the remaining days is pointless.

I don’t know what I did with myself before I started hanging out at The Echo, so I have no idea how to fill the time now. Becky got Andy to commit to taking a night off patrol and seeing her on Friday nights. Connor is spending all of his time with Maurice.

And I’m alone.

I think about calling Gabriel, but even if I reached him, I don’t know what I’d say. Every place I want to go holds the possibility of seeing him, and while that’s what I want most, it’s probably what I need least. Not like anything is going to be any different.