Chapter 2

Nero – Age 14

"Check this out,"Donny said, tossing his board down onto the sidewalk. He flipped it back up with his foot and caught it one-handed.

Nero Vik and his cousin—who was also his best friend—had met up at the almost empty park and ride on the north side of town. This one was hardly ever used because most people took the bus to and from the mall a few blocks away.

Their only companions were the crows hanging around patiently to see if they had any snacks to share. Nero liked feeding the birds, especially the albino one. The first time he'd seen it, Nero thought it was covered with flour or something but, no, the crow was actually an odd light gray, not black like the rest of its family.

"Oh man, that's so cool!" Nero held his hand out and Donny slapped it hard, grinning like he always did, making Nero feel like he was really being seen.

Donny was one of those people who navigated life effortlessly, unlike Nero, who was a permanent nerd. It seemed like Donny always knew what to say or do. He had a great smile and perfect hair, not having inherited the mop of curls that was Nero's curse. More often than not, Nero was awkward and flailing. Always the odd person out, last to be picked for the PE teams while his cousin was among the first.

Nerd.

According to Donny, the park and ride had the best practice-skate course around town, and neither of them had the money to bus to the real skate park at the college. Or for knee pads. Who cared about a skinned knee or elbow anyway? Since Donny was the one with the board, Nero was content with hanging out wherever his cousin wanted.

"Who do you have for homeroom?" Donny asked Nero as he caught the board again.

The list had been sent home a couple of days ago. Nero and Donny were close enough in age that they were at the same high school and in the same grade.

"Uh." Nero pretended to think, shrugging to adjust his backpack on his shoulder, as if he hadn't been obsessing about starting high school since school got out in spring. "Ms. Harmon, I think. What about you?"

"Mr. Bernstadt."

His stomach sank. Nero had hoped that Donny would have the same homeroom.

"Dang."

"I'd rather be in Ms. Harmon's with you. Mr. Bernstadt had all my brothers, I'm pretty sure." Donny looked thoughtful. "Maybe not John."

As an only child, Nero was also jealous of his cousin's big family. Five older brothers meant Donny's house was loud and full of laughter twenty-four seven. Nero's apartment was always quiet, and he had to be careful not to walk too loudly and annoy the old man who lived below them. His mom worked nights at the hospital, so he had to be quiet while she slept too.

The constant silence was oppressive, and sometimes Nero could hardly stop himself from running around yelling at the top of his lungs. Stomping too. But he never would because his mom was always telling him how lucky they were to have a place she could afford.

Donny continued dropping, flipping, and catching the skateboard while Nero looked on. The crashing sound echoed across the hot concrete parking lot and the crows on the telephone wire continued to stare down at them. One cawed and fluttered away, tired of the wait. Nero was about to ask if Donny would show him how to toss the board when the sound of tires on the pavement reached his ears.

Looking over his shoulder, he watched a van turn into the lot. It was an entirely unremarkable van. White was all he would remember about it later. It parked away from them, on the other side of the park and ride. Harmless.

"Okay," Donny said, letting the skateboard fall to the ground again. "Let's have some fun!"

This time Donny didn't flip the board back up; instead, he set his right foot on it and pushed off with his left, rolling away from Nero. Just ahead of them was a covered rider waiting area. Beside it were concrete stairs leading up to the street and next to them was a ramp for wheelchair users and other folks—and, of course, skateboards and bikes. There was an old pay phone there too, the receiver hanging down uselessly. They'd checked for forgotten change first thing, but no luck.

Nero jogged after Donny, his pack bouncing against his back. At the stairs, Nero took off his backpack and set it on the ground next to the shirt Donny had taken off.

"It's freaking hot out," Donny explained. "Plus, I gotta get some rays on this bod."

Donny lifted both arms and flexed his biceps like he was Arnold Schwarzenegger or something. Nero laughed so hard he was sure he sounded like a braying donkey, but no way was he taking off his shirt. Again, Donny was the lucky one; Nero was scrawny and pale.

They messed around on the skateboard for a while. A few buses came and went, expelling passengers who ignored them and headed for their cars or took the stairs up to the street. Donny demonstrated how to balance on the board and even let Nero try riding the stairs—which he completely failed at, ending up with a massively skinned knee to show for it.

"Dude, there's no point if there's no blood," Donny pronounced while Nero sat on the ground, holding the edge of his t-shirt against the gash. "Chicks dig scars."

Nero laughed nervously. Did guys dig scars as much as girls? He'd never talked to anyone about it. He didn't need another thing setting him apart from "normal people," but he thought he liked both.

"My mom will be pissed if I have to get stitches or something," Nero grumbled. It was even hotter out now, and he was regretting not bringing water or something else to drink along with him. But he hadn't wanted to weigh his backpack down so all he had was a peanut butter sandwich.

"Nah," Donny said, bending to take a look at Nero's shin, "you don't need stitches or anything. But, dude, I don't think Tony Hawk has anything to be nervous about."

Nero snorted and opened his mouth to pretend Donny had hurt his feelings, but he didn't get a chance to say anything.

"Hey!"

Donny and Nero both looked up and over toward the voice.

A man had gotten out of the van that Nero had completely forgotten about and opened the back doors.

"I have a first aid kit if you need it," he called out.

Nero was about to say no, but Donny answered for him.

"Sure, that's awesome. Stay here, I'll be right back."

"Donny…" Nero began.

But his cousin was already jogging across the lot toward the van. Nero struggled to his feet, intending to go after him, try and stop him. Although he wasn't sure what he could do with blood dribbling down his leg onto the new shoes his mom had bought for the start of the school year.

"Donny!" he yelled again, louder this time, as he limped to the curb. "Come back!"

His call was ignored. Donny slowed down as he neared the van. The driver—Nero assumed it was the driver—leaned into the dark interior of the vehicle. Nero saw Donny's lips moving but couldn't hear what was said.

Then it happened.

A terrifying slow-motion video clip that Nero Vik relived for the rest of his life.

He watched as the man grabbed his cousin and tossed him into the back of the vehicle like he weighed nothing. Forcing the back door shut, the man ran around to the driver's side.

The sound of the driver's door slamming had Nero skip-limping even faster toward the van to—what? Stop it? Rescue Donny from someone who was twice his size? Nero wasn't sure, but he kept moving anyway.

The van's engine roared and, with a screech of tires and a cough of exhaust smoke, it raced away, taking Donny with it. Nero outright ran now, but the van disappeared around a far corner and onto another street, a cloud of dust billowing behind it. Panting, bleeding, standing in the middle of the lot for what seemed like forever, Nero caught himself wondering if maybe what had just happened had been an elaborate practical joke.

Donny was well known for his creativity.

Minutes passed. Nero didn't move, and the van didn't return. Finally, a city bus arrived and he pulled himself together enough to get out of its way. A lone woman disembarked, and the bus left again.

She must have sensed something because she paused on her walk to her car, glancing at his bloody leg. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

Nero opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. What he needed to say was choking him, making it hard to breathe.

No, he wasn't okay. And he didn't know if he'd ever be okay again.

The police arrived and all Nero had was a discarded t-shirt and precious skateboard as evidence that his cousin had been there and was now gone. He finally broke down and cried.

"It's all right, son," the grim-faced police officer said as she patted his shoulder.