“Do they have any clue about where he is?” Sam asks.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Mika didn’t mention anything.”
“Dang it, I wish I was there. I bet no one knows where to look.”
“Where do you think he might be? I can help search for him,” I say.
“It could be a dozen places…”
“We’ll check every single one.”
“Let me think—” His voice is strained.
“It’s gonna be okay, Sam. We’re gonna find him.”
I write down locations Sam recalls on a piece of paper and text Mika again. She takes her dad’s car to come pick me up, and we go searching for James. Mika and I divide the list of places in half, based on their proximity to each other. Since I’m taking the north side of town, Mika drops me off near the theater and I go running. I check the comic store, the drive-in, the donut shop, and everything in between. When I realize he isn’t in town, I run to the lake to see if he’s there, but there’s no sign of him. So I keep going. It’s a long jog to memorial hill, but I have to check. This one isn’t on Sam’s list of places. I had this feeling James might be there, sitting with him. Once I reach the gates and make my way up the hill, I’m disappointed to find out I’m wrong.
I check the list again. The last few places Sam named are a bit out of the way. They are locations around the old neighborhood where he used to live. One of them is a small park where they used to ride their bikes after school. I don’t know what the chances of James being there are. But I leave memorial hill and head for it anyway.
It takes me a while to figure out where the park is located. I’ve never been to this part of town before. I have to stop and ask people on the sidewalk for directions. When I finally find it, tucked away at the end of a cul-de-sac, I spot a familiar green jacket hanging over a bench. The second I spot James sitting alone on the swing set, staring at the ground, I stop short to catch my breath.
I haven’t spoken with him since Sam’s death. I don’t even know what to say as I approach him at the swings. Although I’m still catching my breath from the run, I keep my voice soft as I lower myself to him. “Hey there, James…” I say. “Everyone’s been looking for you, you know? You had us all worried.”
James doesn’t look at me. He keeps his gaze on the ground.
“They’re gonna be glad to hear you’re not hurt,” I continue. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
James says nothing. I’m suddenly reminded of that night at the fair when he wouldn’t speak to me. It was the last time the three of us were together, wasn’t it? I guess it’s been much longer since I’ve seen James than I remember. I soften my voice again. “How about you and I head on home, alright?”
“No.”
“Your parents are really worried—” I start.
“I don’t want to go home!” he shouts back.
“Is something wrong? You know you can tell me.”
I’m sure this has something to do with Sam. But I don’t know how to approach the conversation. I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose a brother. This is a kind of pain I’ll never understand. I try to take James’s hand, but he pulls it away.
“Leave me alone,” he says, clenching his arms. “I’m not going home. Get away from me!”
It pains me to hear him talk this way. I wish I could make things better. “Can you at least tell me why you ran away?” I ask.
James says nothing.
“Is it because of Sam…” I whisper. “Because he’s not there?”
“No,” James says, shaking his head. “Because he hates me!”
“Why would you think that? Of course Sam doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes, he does! He told me!”
“When did Sam tell you that?”
James drops his face in his hands, trying to hide his tears from me. “When I went into his room and broke his microphone. He said he hated me.”
I touch his shoulder and say, “James, listen to me. Sometimes people say that when they’re mad, but they don’t mean it. Sam doesn’t hate you—”
“But he stopped talking to me!” he cries. “He was ignoring me! Right before he died.”
My heart breaks from hearing this. I wipe my eyes and take James by the hands. “Sam loves you, okay? Brothers fight all the time and say things they don’t mean. If Sam was here, he would tell you this himself.”
James wipes his tears with his sleeve. “You don’t know that. Why do you even care? You don’t even like me!”
“Of course I do—how could you say that?”
“You don’t care about us! You only liked Sam! You only came to see him.”
“That isn’t true,” I say. “You and I are friends, too. I care about your whole family.”