“I thought you were best friends.”
“Maybe he thought so. I don’t know. There were times when he was fun and cool, you know? But sometimes he was just, I don’t know . . . He could be mean. And he was a liar.”
“He could be mean.”
“He stole a baseball of mine. A signed one that I got at a Braves’ game.”
“He did?” I tried to recall if I’d ever seen a baseball in his room, if he’d ever shown that off, but I couldn’t remember anything.
“Yeah, totally. He swore that he didn’t steal it, but I know he did. Plus, he took money from my wallet once. A twenty-dollar bill. Can you believe that?”
“That’s horrible.”
“That kid could be a real asshole,” Nick said.
“Yeah,” I said, but already I felt guilty. Sam was gone, unable to defend himself.
“He always said you were lame.”
“He did?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, but forget it, man. Hey, you want to go to the University pool tomorrow after tennis? My parents have a membership.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That would be fun.”
“Cool.” Nick flipped the video game back on from where we’d paused it. But before we got going, Nick said, “I mean, I hope Sam’s not dead. Don’t get me wrong. But I don’t miss him. I’m kind of glad he’s gone. But don’t tell anyone, okay?”
Over the next few days we continued with the tennis camp, then hung out afterward. Even after camp officially ended, we met up to practice, and we kept hanging out at his house. By the end of the summer, just before we started sixth grade, I guess we were on our way to being best friends. To be honest, I hadn’t had many friends before that, not real friends anyway. That September, I felt like I was a new person. Like Sam had never existed. It got easier and easier to forget about him.
===
The afternoon after the Homecoming game, I’m up in my room doing homework when Mom knocks on the door. “Come in,” I say.
“So,” she says. Her face looks weird—nervous, like she has bad news. “Diane Manderson just called. Sam’s mom.” She pauses, waiting for me to say something, but I just stare at her. “The local news is doing some kind of follow-up story, now that Sam is settled back home. They want Sam to be around old friends, family—that sort of thing. She asked if we would come. She said Sam specifically asked if you could come.”
I stare at her for a minute. “Really?” I think back to last night, the way Sam had stared in that funny way—like he was desperate for something from me.
“If you’re not comfortable going, I can tell her—”
“I’ll go,” I say.
Mom looks a little surprised. “Okay,” she says, sounding uncertain. She comes over and pats my back as I sit at my desk. “You’re a good boy,” she says before she leaves.
I’m not sure why I agreed to go so quickly. I guess, in a weird way, I want to see him up close, to talk to him. It’s curiosity more than anything.
===
We drive over the next day after lunch. It’s sunny out, but chilly and windy. I haven’t been back to Pine Forest since we moved away. When we drive up, the houses, the yards—they all look smaller, shabbier, like after we left things just fell apart. Dad parks along the curb. There’s already a Channel 4 news truck parked there, and a few other cars. I wonder who else is coming. Surely Nick was invited, but I haven’t heard anything from him. He’s probably doing something with Sarah. At the dance, I saw them making out in a corner before one of the chaperones broke them up. All I did with Madison was give her a hug good night.
Inside, everyone is gathered in the living room—Mrs. Manderson; Beth; that lady Mrs. Sykes from next door; a tall baldish man and a woman with a bob of gray hair and their little girl, who looks to be about eight or nine; Mrs. Tomek, from a few doors down, and her son, Ruben, who’s like ten or something now. And then there’s Sam, sitting on the couch—the only one sitting—looking like his mind is miles away.
“So glad you could make it,” Mrs. Manderson says, coming over to hug Mom and Dad. Again, she’s all smiley, like a totally new person, not the grouch I remember. Her hair is grayer now. She always seemed so much younger than Mom and Dad, but now they all seem the same age.
“Glad to be here,” Mom says. I see her glance over at Sam. She walks to him and he snaps to attention, stands and greets her with a hug, and then he shakes Dad’s hand. It’s all formal but friendly, slightly uncomfortable. I mean, what do you say in this situation? Welcome back from your imprisonment? So glad you’re not dead?
Sam walks over to me, his hands in his pockets. This time he’s not smiling. “Hey, Josh. I’m glad you could come over,” he says, like reading from a script. His eyes look dewy and red, like maybe he’d been crying just before we got here.
“Me too,” I say, wondering why he looks sad. Like, isn’t he happy to be home? I thought he’d be smiling nonstop.
I get introduced then to the other people. The baldish man is their lawyer, Mr. Walker, and he’s here with his wife and daughter. I say hello to Mrs. Sykes, to the Tomeks. I look over at Beth. She’s quiet, staring off like she finds this whole situation mortifying.
“Guys,” Mr. Walker says, “the film crew wants us to be outside, sort of acting normal.”
Acting normal. I hear Beth let out a quick laugh that sounds like “huh.”
“Maybe the kids can kick the soccer ball around?” Mr. Walker suggests.
Mrs. Manderson looks over at Sam. “Is that okay, honey?”
He just nods. “I’ll get the ball in my room.”
“I have it in my room,” Beth says. “I’ll get it.”
We all go outside. The front yard is large and triangular, on the corner lot, with an oak tree that provides shade to just a small part of the yard. Ruben and Sam head onto the grass with the ball. I know I’m expected to join in, but I hate soccer. Over by the driveway I see the news reporter, in a black skirt and white shirt, her hair all shellacked, and she heads over with her microphone, while a scruffy guy fiddles around with his camera.
Beth stands next to me on the porch. She says, “This is a joke.”
I don’t say anything back. I watch as Ruben kicks the ball to Sam. The ball sails past him and for a second he just watches it, like he’s confused about what he’s supposed to do, but then he breaks into a run and goes for it.
“We don’t even really know that man, Mr. Walker. I’d never met his wife and daughter until today. They just wanted people here. Mom asked all of Sam’s old friends to come over for this. Nick. Max. Some others. And not a single one of them would come. They all had excuses.” We both watch as Sam kicks the ball right to Ruben, a smooth grounder. I think about Sam’s eyes, how sad they looked earlier. But now, running around, he seems happy. I can see him smiling as he chases the ball.