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“Shut up!” I roared. “Just shut the hell up!” I pounded the steering wheel. A tap on my window hammered a spike of terror through my chest.

“Dan? What's the matter?” Julie pressed her hand to the window, the line between her eyes fully defined.

My inner demon found great humor in Julie's question. Where could I start? While Kenny cackled, I shook my head slowly, mechanically. I flung my head back and shut my eyes. All I had to do was keep the secret. But then I met Brandon, and suddenly, keeping him safe was this impossible task. Sisyphus got off easy. Rolling a freakin' boulder uphill for eternity was better than this. The boulder couldn't resent my efforts.

I heard the passenger door open, and Julie slid in to the seat Kenny had occupied a minute earlier, filling the car with that scent I craved. She covered my hand with hers, squeezed.

“Dan.” She didn't move her hand. “What's going on?”

I swallowed hard and finally opened my eyes. She watched me, her forehead creased, eyes grim. “Any ideas on how to stop a suicide?”

She snatched her hand from mine like I was caustic. Her eyes turned glacial. She took her giant purse from the floor and left the car, slamming the door behind her. I shoved through my door a second later. “Julie!” I caught up to her in a few strides, took her arm, spun her around.

“Don't touch me.”

You
upset
her
, Kenny shouted.

I'm aware of that.

Fix
it. Fix it now!

I'm trying, Satan. Back the hell off.

Out loud, I demanded, “What the hell's your problem?”

“My problem? My problem? You can sit there with a straight face, make lame jokes about suicide to me, and ask me what
my
problem is?” She wrenched free from my grasp and strode off.

I didn't know why she thought I was making jokes about suicide, so I tried again. “Do I look like I'm joking? Julie, I think Brandon's gonna kill himself, and I don't know how to stop him.”

She halted, hesitated a moment, and faced me. “You're serious? You're not making a sick joke out of my brother and me?”

My eyes popped. “Making a joke?” If there was a connection among teasing, suicide, and Julie, I wasn't making it. “You never mentioned having a brother.” A cold knot settled in my stomach, slowly tightened across my gut.

“Had. Past tense.” Her eyes bore holes through me as if I should have known this. “He killed himself when he was, like, twelve.”

I pressed a hand to my open mouth to block the stream of curses I nearly cut loose. “Was his name Liam?” I blurted. I took her by the shoulders and gripped tightly. “Answer me!”

“No.” She wouldn't look at me.

“Julie, please!”

She shot me another arctic look that almost freeze-dried me where I stood. “You're hurting me.”

Abruptly sick, I let her go. “I swear to you I didn't know about your brother.”

She stared a minute longer. “Fine,” she said with a long sigh. “Let's say I believe you for a minute. Why are you so worried about Brandon?”

I was struck mute. I couldn't very well tell her that the little voice in my head noticed something funny about the way Brandon acted. “I…God! I didn't notice it, not until later.” I spun around, pointed to the grassy median. “There. Right there. He was walking back and forth, slowly at first. Like he was pacing. But then I realized he was baiting the hook. He was doing all he could do to get Jeff's attention. Julie.” I put my hands on her shoulders, looked her dead in the eye, and spoke the unbelievable truth. “He was
asking
for
it
.” I raked the hair off my face, growing more certain Kenny's suspicions were correct with every word. “He had his backpack with him. When Jeff and his sidekicks approached, Brandon took it off his back, brought it to his chest. I didn't connect it, not then. The careful way he was cradling that bag. The wild look in his eyes. He had a
weapon
, Julie. I'm sure of it.” I ignored her gasp and pushed the words out faster. “Worse, he didn't care that Jeff had backup and that even with a weapon, odds are he wouldn't have won the fight. And then at lunch before, he was pissed off at me for stopping him, and I didn't understand. But now I do. He…I think he was hoping Jeff would give him a reason, Julie.”

Julie took my hand, led me back to my car, and got in. Only when the doors were closed did she speak. “Dan, this is—”

“Huge,” I finished. “I know. What I
don't
know is how to help him.”

She watched me for a long time, her eyes thawing. “You really mean it, don't you?”

I blinked at her for thirty whole seconds, bewildered. I was pretty sure it was English I'd been speaking. Helpless frustration made me twitch. “Damn it, Julie. If you can't help me, just say so. Stop torturing me.” With my palms up, surrendering, I waited for her to trust me.

Julie picked up the giant bag from the floor of my car, rummaged through it. After a minute, she pulled out a large plastic bag that contained the remains of a Lego helicopter. A bunch of blocks floated loose around the bottom. I blew out a loud sigh. “Legos? Come on, Julie. I have to find Brandon.”

She held the bag, staring at it with eyes glazed, mesmerized by the past. “This was my brother's. He…never got to finish it.”

“So you carry it around in your purse?”

She laughed, a short, sad sound. “I bet you think that's crazy, but I like keeping it close. I keep everything that's important to me in this bag. Just in case—” She left the sentence unfinished.

“Will you tell me about him?”

A tendon leaped to prominence in her neck. The bag of Legos disappeared back in the cave of Julie's purse. “I don't talk about him. Ever.”

I beat back my disappointment and nodded. “Okay. I understand. Look, I gotta go now. I need to find Brandon.”

She opened the passenger door and called out over her shoulder. “Don't leave him alone. That's the one thing he'll want most. If he is thinking about suicide, he won't want to hang out.” And she was gone.

I watched her walk away, her comical purse bouncing off her hip with every step. The burning need to know what else she kept in that sack battled with my other burning need—to help Brandon.

————

I waited in the parking lot, but Brandon didn't show. He must have boarded a bus before I got out there. By four o'clock, I was parked in front of his place, bouncing my knee against the dashboard and wiping my damp palms on my jeans.

You
sure
you
want
to
do
this?
Kenny popped into the passenger seat. I jerked, accidentally hit the horn, and jumped again.

Damn it, Kenny.

I didn't have time to go a few more rounds with him. The front door opened, and Brandon came out to my car, no doubt attracted by my horn-beeping blunder.

“Hey, man,” I said after I lowered the passenger side window.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Um. Well, I wondered if you were up to anything? Wanna hang out?”

He did a double take. “You want to hang out? With me?” His eyes gleamed.

I nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

“Like, right now?”

I laughed. “Yeah, Brandon. Now. What's your problem?”

“Um. Well, I figured you'd have a dozen other things you'd rather do than hang out with me.”

“I'm not working. I don't have to be home for hours yet. And maybe you haven't noticed, but you're pretty much my only friend.”

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Yeah? What about Julie?” He jerked his head to the house over his shoulder.

I scratched my head and considered that. “I don't know if Julie and I are friends. Exactly.”

He huffed out a short laugh and patted the doorframe. “Well, come on. It's getting cold out here.”

I locked up my car, followed him inside the house. He led me up a flight of stairs lined with tons of framed pictures. “Are these all you or your brother?”

“Only child.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

He led me into his room. I whistled. “Wow, man. Nice.”

His room was enormous, easily twice the size of mine. He had a cool flat-screen TV sitting on a stand on one wall. Opposite it was a twin bed shoved against the wall and lined with pillows so it could be used as a sofa. Under a huge window that faced the street, he had a large desk with another flat-screen. This one was for his computer. I couldn't help but notice the display. It was opened to a social networking site. I read several of the posts.

They were threats. All of them.

“Brandon, what the hell is this?”

He let out a long sigh. “Jeff and his pals. You're there too.”

I managed to swallow my curses. “Figures.”

“He's posting that you…and I—” Brandon inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “Well, you can read.”

I could, and I did. It was a lot of
Brokeback
Mountain
kind of stuff. I was relieved; it could have been a lot worse.

Dude, I know this is a stretch for you, but maybe you could imagine things from his point of view instead of yours?

Kenny's reminder served its purpose, and I winced. I looked at Brandon, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. His face was red.

“Brandon, this doesn't bother me.”

That got his attention. “It doesn't?” His eyes were huge.

I managed a tight smile. “I've been called a lot worse.”

Yeah, I guess “fag” pales next to “pervert.”

My stomach clenched as it always did when I heard that word. Thanks, Kenny. Appreciate that.

Deliberately, I tuned Kenny out and remembered why I was here. “Does it bother you?”

He scoffed, laughed. “Me? Nah.”

I noted the darting eyes, the muscle twitching in his jaw, the nervous laugh. “It's okay if it does. It's, um, normal, I guess. I mean, it's hard to understand how people can be so mean.”

“There are so many,” he whispered.

“Anybody besides Dean giving you a hard time?”

“Um, everybody?”

I almost laughed and then realized he wasn't kidding. There was so much I wanted to tell him. Like I knew how he felt, I'd been in his shoes, and not to do something in the heat of the moment he'd regret later. These weren't just platitudes. They were the wisdom of my own experiences, but I couldn't find any way to share them without also sharing my real identity.

Jeez, man. You're not a superhero. Your real identity isn't that big a deal.

Brandon suddenly brought his hands together in a single loud clap. “Hey! You up for some Xbox?”

He was wound tight and could use the distraction, so I agreed. We played hockey and then switched to war games. He kicked my ass, which Kenny found endlessly amusing. It wasn't until a voice called up the stairs that I realized we'd been in the house alone all afternoon.

“Brandon! I'm home.” Footsteps padded up the stairs, and the door opened. “Oh. Hi.”

Brandon's mother looked from me to him and back to me. Her face split into a wide grin. “You…you have a friend over.”

Her astonishment was painful to witness, and from the look on Brandon's face, just as painful to experience.

“Um, Mom, this is Dan Ellison.”

“Hi, Dan. Nice to meet you. Are you a senior?”

I nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”

Her smile dimmed. I knew what she was thinking. I wished I could promise I'd remain friends with Brandon after graduation but feared it was a promise I wouldn't be able to keep.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Dan.”

“You too, Mrs. Dellerman.”

For one suspended moment, I saw myself following Brandon's mother downstairs, telling her everything, and begging her to get Brandon out of danger. And I saw her asking me how I could be so sure. The moment passed, and I hated myself all over again.

What
else
is
new?

“Sorry about that. She—”

“She's great, Brandon. It's cool.”

He nodded, shrugged, and I stood up.

“I need to get home, Brandon. Hey, do you like to work out or run or anything?”

Another shrug. “I don't know.”

“I'm gonna run on the beach Saturday if you want to come.”

He blinked at me. “Dude, it's, like…
November
.”

I shrugged. “Dress in layers.”

He shook his head. “No, I don't think that will help my problem.” He indicated the computer across the room.

“Don't focus on that crap, Brandon. Do stuff you like to do, get your mind off it.”

“I don't know. There's not a lot I can do alone besides video games, and even that's—”

He didn't finish the sentence, but I got it anyway. Jeff and his pals were probably hassling Brandon on Xbox too. “Yeah, I remember. That's why I work out.” Well, one reason anyway.

He thought for a minute and then smiled briefly. “Okay. I'll try it.”

“Great.” I smiled, proud of myself. It was a little step, but it would lead to bigger ones. “I gotta go. I promised my parents I'd get my hair cut today. Place closes at seven thirty.”

Brandon angled his head and examined my hair. “What's wrong with it?”

“They think it's messy.” It waved past my collar. I could pull it into a stubby ponytail if I liked that look.

Girl.

I sighed. “Wanna take a ride with me? Won't be long.”

He bounced up and grabbed a beat-up canvas wallet from the computer desk. “Let's go. I'll get mine cut too.”

Brandon's dirty blond hair was stringy and hanging in his eyes. It needed a cut more than mine did. With a shout to his mother, Brandon was out the door with me on his heels. We'd just reached my car when Julie stepped outside, Hagrid in tow.