Prologue - Cameron

" I think my dad might be dead," Jagger says.

At least, I think that's what he said, but I'm not positive I heard him correctly over the music coming from the video game on the TV. We are sitting pretty close to it on bean bag chairs, propped against the foot of my bed about five feet away from the flat screen on my dresser. Although, I can't remember our proximity to the TV ever making it hard to hear each other before.

"What?" I pause the game, turning to my best friend of, well, since we learned to walk basically, and we're ten now so, at least eight years. "Why?"

"He hasn't been home in weeks." Jagger stares vacantly at the screen in front of us.

"Maybe he just went camping. He's done that before." That's sort of an understatement. Jagger's dad takes off for adventures the way other people go to work, according to my dad. Sometimes he'll take Jagger, if there's no school, but mostly he just goes by himself.

More than once, I've heard my parents remark that Jagger's mom is a saint to put up with him. That they feel sorry for her having to carry the weight of supporting the family when her husband couldn't care less. He's perfectly capable of contributing but just…doesn't. Still, even though he's not around much, Jagger loves him, and as his best friend, I'd never say anything bad about his dad.

"This doesn't feel like a normal camping trip." Jagger's head shifts slowly back and forth. "He's never been away this long."

"Is his gear missing?"

"Yeah."

"Then that has to be it," I say with more confidence than I feel.

"Okay, say he did go camping. The longest he's ever been gone for is a week. It's been almost three. What if something happened to him? What if he's all alone out there and needs help?" Jagger finally brings his gaze to mine, and for the first time ever, I see actual fear in the eyes of my best friend.

"What does your mom say?"

"That's just it, she hasn't said anything. Usually, she complains about him being gone, muttering about how it'd be nice for him to take me to practice and school and stuff. Or get a job."

"Doesn't she say the same thing when he's home?" It's not the nicest way to calm him down, but it's the truth.

"Yeah." Jagger's shoulders droop as he exhales. "But she hasn't said anything about him at all. For weeks. And when I ask, she just gets sort of quiet and says she's sure he's fine."

"Well, she'd know if something was wrong, wouldn't she?"

"I guess."

"Then I'm sure it's fine." I toss down the controller and offer a hand, managing to pull him off the chair. "Come on. Let's get a snack, Kitcat." I use the nickname I gave him back in preschool, when I thought he said his name was Jaguar and I couldn't pronounce that, so I improvised. He wouldn't let me call him Kitty Cat, but Kitcat stuck. He doesn't like when I say it in front of other people though, which is cool. I like having things that are just between the two of us, anyway.

Normally, when we're in search of food, we race to the kitchen, getting scolded for shaking the house. I'm not sure why we don't do that today, maybe it's due toJagger being off, but instead of running down the stairs we walk slowly, barely saying a word. That's why we hear it.

"Are you sure?" my mom asks.

"I'm sure," Jagger's mom says.

We pause on the stairway, just out of view of the kitchen, breathing as shallow as possible so we can hear what they're saying.

"He emptied our savings—the one he knew about, not the only one thank God—and he left his phone. He's gone for good this time."

Jagger, who normally has a light olive complexion, turns ghostly white, shaking slightly. For reasons I can't explain, I take his hand in mine, just so he knows I'm here.

"Does Jagger know?" my mom asks.

"Not yet. I haven't figured out how to tell him. Jeremy may have been a shit husband, but he was a fun dad. Jagger loves him. It'll crush him to know his dad abandoned us."

Jagger starts to sway, and I wrap my arm around his waist, guiding him to sit on the stairs before he topples over.

"My mom told me this would happen," Jagger's mom continues. "She said Jeremy was too good looking, too reliant on those looks to get what he wanted instead of making an honest living. He used to get free meals that way. Toss the waitress a subtle wink and suddenly the bill gets lost. Or he gets charged for a drink and not the food. People felt special when he gave them his attention. I sure did, even knowing he kept that up after we were married. And Jagger looks just like him. Ever since he was a toddler, people have gushed about how beautiful he is, giving him treats and gifts and remarking what a handsome young man he is. I know how that sounds, trust me, but it's true."

I may be ten, but even I've noticed that about my best friend. People are just drawn to him. They seem to stare in disbelief, like they can't believe he's real. Until just now, I didn't connect that to the way he looks, I just figured they recognized how cool he is. But after hearing his mom, I get what she's saying. The girls in our grade are always swooning over him, and if I'm being honest, he's nicer looking than they are.

"People try to show him special treatment all the time," Jagger's mom continues. "Fawning over him and trying to give him treats. And if I say no, I'm a bad mom, but if I don't, I'm setting Jagger up to fall into the same bad habits as his father."

My best friend's eyes are glassy, and a pain I'm not capable of putting into words explodes inside me. I wish I could take this memory away from him, but I can't. So, I do the only thing I can do. I tighten my grip around his waist.

"Jagger may look like his dad, but he doesn't act that way. He's a good boy. Polite. And he's a good student. He knows the value of hard work," my mom says.

"Thank you for saying that," Jagger's mom replies. "I know you're right, but I still worry, you know? Attention is like a drug, or at least it was for Jeremy. If Jagger gets the wrong kind of attention… Will he be able to ignore it? Or will it skew his way of thinking? And what will knowing his dad left do to him? Will he still be my happy, loveable boy, or will he shut down? Will he blame himself, even though this has nothing to do with him?"

As Jagger's mom lists her fears, I realize there's a chance my best friend might be forever changed because of this, and I vow to do whatever I can to keep that from happening.

"Kitcat?" I whisper.

He stares robotically at the wall across from the stairway, where we have a bunch of family pictures framed. For the first time ever, they make me wince. I have to get Jagger out of here. Tugging on his hand, I manage to lead him up the steps back to my room, despite him maintaining his trance-like stare.

"Talk to me, Kitcat." I shut the door behind us as he collapses into the bean bag chair only he has ever sat in. "Please?"

"He left." He stares at the blank screen on the TV.

"Yeah."

"How could he? Why?"

Gingerly, so I don't spook him, I sink into the chair next to him. "I don't know."

"Is it me?" I can see his eyes welling up with unshed tears, even though he's not looking at me.

"You heard your mom. She said this has nothing to do with you. I believe her."

"How can you know?" Jagger turns to me with that same look of fear I saw in his eyes earlier.

"Because you're awesome, and dads don't leave awesome kids. Not unless they have to, so whatever made him leave had to be like, life or death, or something. It definitely wasn't you."

A lone tear slips down his cheek. "He didn't say goodbye."

I don't have an explanation for that, and given the way Jagger's watching me, he knows it. Another tear falls from his eye, which makes my chest feel heavy and hollow at the same time. I wonder if that's what his feels like ?

"He's not gonna come back, is he?" Jagger whispers, and I'm not sure if he's asking that to himself or me.

"I don't know, Kitcat."

"You won't leave me, right?" My best friend's voice is anxious. Panicked.

"Never." I wrap my arms around his waist as he rests his head on my shoulder, soaking my shirt with his tears. I promise Kitcat, I won't ever leave you.