{Kadee}

Kadee usually spent Friday afternoons absorbed in her cell phone, getting little pings from her friends every few minutes about weekend plans and youth group. Today, her phone laid dead on her dresser while she painstakingly wrapped one ribbon of hair after another around her curling iron. This ritual was supposed to soothe her: the tug on her scalp, the heat and the smell of perfume taking her out of herself so there was no thought but the present moment. One perfect curl after another fell beside her ears, and all she could think about were Jon's words slapping her face and startling her wide awake.

He was right.

She set the curling iron down and used one manicured nail to flick it off, looking herself in the face. A real person had cut open his arm and bled all over the school, and she had hit "share" on the gruesome details and gone digging for more. All the beauty products in the world couldn't make that pretty.

She dropped her eyes, wet her brush and dragged it through the curls, flattening them and scraping her hair back in a pony tail.

She stripped off all the clothes she had worn that day and left them in a heap on the floor of her walk-in closet. Most of her wardrobe was inadequate for this moment. She assembled an outfit that was as plain and ugly as she felt: a black V-neck T-shirt, black jeans and grey boots. She thought of Jon's crumpled shoulders moving away from her and wanted nothing more than to make that better again—if she even knew how.

Pastor Pete's address was on the church website. Thirty minutes later, she was pulling up in front of a duplex with shabby brown trim and a lawn in need of some serious attention. Her stomach was jumping, and all her plans for the evening were out the window, spinning in the dust a couple blocks from her house.

She rang the bell and heard hurried footsteps thumping down the hall. The door flew open, and Jon was standing there looking blankly at her like he had expected someone else.

"Is Cary here?" she said, coming up on her toes anxiously.

He was a couple seconds answering. "No. He's missing." She had never seen his face without its smile.

Her stomach squeezed—so it was true. "I went to his house and his mom was all scary ice woman and said he ran away. I thought ... I hoped he was here." She turned around on the step, like she might see Cary's hunched form shambling up the block. "What are we going to do?"

Jon crossed his arms, making his shoulders small. "I don't know. My dad is taking me to look for him tomorrow."

She took a breath, trying to hide how much this mattered to her. "Do you want to go now? I was going to pick you up for youth group—and Cary—but I don't care if I miss. This is ... way more important." She could barely look at him. Her heart was in her mouth while she waited for him to answer.

"'Kay," he said. "Just a sec." He left her standing there, bouncing on the toes of her boots. She heard him holler, "I'm going to youth group!" Then he came out with his sweater hood up, thumping the door shut behind him. He didn't say anything or look at her as they went down the walk to her car. She had to hurry to keep up with him.

"Where do you think he is? Where should we start?"

"He's kicked out of the youth shelter." Jon's voice was flat, and it was killing her the way he didn't look in her face. "But maybe on the streets around there."

She pulled away from the curb with a jerk, tearing down the residential street at what was most certainly not the speed limit. "Did you try his phone? Did he text you?"

Jon had his phone in his hands between his knees, and he swiped the screen open and then closed it again. "I called him like, a hundred times."

Kadee bit her lip, thinking of the blurry image of Cary bleeding beside Madison's desk. "You don't think he ...?"

"Let's just find him." Jon was already scanning the streets.

They drove for an hour in the old downtown area before Kadee pulled into the parking lot of a doughnut shop. Jon had been silent the past 20 minutes, except to direct her down one street or another. He shot her a questioning look, that wrinkle still puckering his forehead.

"You need to eat something. I can totally hear your stomach growling. Did you have supper?"

He dropped his eyes again, hiding them from her, and shook his head.

"Well I'm buying, okay?"

Jon got out of the car and followed her into the restaurant. He was still scanning, standing tall to see over cars and check up and down the street. She was waiting in line when she realized he wasn't behind her—he was on the sidewalk outside talking to a couple rough-looking kids smoking by the dumpster. She watched his face for good news but knew him well enough to know the tight smile of thanks he gave as he left wasn't real. He took a table by the window and didn't even sit down while she ordered, standing by the pane of glass watching every car and pedestrian go by.

Kadee had never been with a guy her age who wasn't into her at all. The really weird part was how she was more worried about finding his friend than losing him as a potential boyfriend. She'd actually been on "dates" in doughnut shops like this one—but none of them had felt as real as this.

She flashed her mom's credit card to pay for everything and brought the tray to the table loaded with chilli and a bagel with cream cheese, half a dozen doughnuts, a cup of yogurt and an iced coffee to wash it all down. The yogurt was for her. She was hoping the dairy would soothe her aching stomach, which knotted a little tighter every time someone went by the window and it wasn't Cary.

"Come on, sit down." She pulled out the chair for him. "If we're going to spend the rest of the night looking for him, then we need to eat."

He sat, blinking at the heaping tray. "Thanks, Kadee." He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. "Can we pray?"

She carefully returned the plastic top to the yogurt cup. "Sure we can," she said brightly. Four hours ago, he'd had a cigarette in his mouth, and now he wanted to pray for their food? She couldn't keep up.

"Jesus, you know where Cary is." Jon spoke in his ordinary voice, not like some of the kids at youth group, who prayed totally differently than they talked. "Please keep him safe. Please find him." His voice broke a little. Kadee looked up through her lashes and saw him put his hand over his eyes, his lips pressing tight. After a moment, he finished softly, "Thanks for Kadee and this food. Amen."

He ate like every other boy in the world, like he had a hollow leg where he put it all. Kadee's stomach had unclenched when he ended his prayer with thanks for her, and she spooned one cool scoop of yogurt after another into her mouth. When Jon was finished, he tipped the donut box to her, lifting his eyebrows in that sweet way of his. "Maple cream?"

She couldn't help smiling. "Okay." She ate it in tiny bites around the edge while Jon slurped his iced cappuccino and looked out the window.

"Can you tell me ... what's going on?" she asked. "Why Cary ran away?"

He was silent for an uncomfortable length of time, moving the last slushy chunks of the drink around the bottom of his cup with his straw.

"I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about," she said in a small voice. "I don't even have my phone on." She swallowed—if he didn't believe her, she had no idea how to change his mind. It wasn't like she didn't deserve his suspicion.

"He was staying with us," Jon said finally. "Because his father beat him up so bad." He shoved the cup onto the tray with the rest of the litter and crossed his arms. His voice was low and rough. "You don't even want to know the shit his father did to him."

Kadee's mouth dropped open. "Cary Douglas? Toughest kid in school, with the army jacket and the ...?" She had been afraid of him.

Jon's eyes were down and a muscle moved in his jaw. "Yeah. He just put his jacket on over all the bruises and made sure to scare the shit out of everyone so no one else would mess with him. He's been doing that since he was a little kid."

She took a breath. "Oh my god."

He looked sharply at her. "Look, this isn't even my story to tell, Kadee. You really can't share it. With anyone."

She could just imagine how hungry for all the details her friends would be if they knew. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew Cary's family—she remembered his parents from some Christmas fundraising party last year. Super-groomed grown-up people just like everyone else her parents hung out with. She bit her lip. She was at the sketchiest doughnut shop in the city, looking for Jon's messed up friend instead of hanging out at youth group with the normal kids, and there was no going back from this. She could lie about what she did tonight, but she would know. Her ability to fit into that group and feel good about herself was breaking.

She tossed her head, putting up a prickly defense. "Obviously I won't. You need to talk to someone, and I don't exactly see a line of people who want to be your friend, Jon."

His face broke a little—she saw it before he turned it aside and regretted her words. She reached across the table and put her hand on his arm, crossed over his chest. "I'm sorry." She tried to smile like it was a joke and she wasn't telling the absolute truth right now. "I'm a terrible person, okay? You don't have to tell me. I'll just drive you around. I don't need to know."

He made a soft sound and took her hand in his own. "You're not a terrible person." He took a deep breath, his eyes on their hands. "We're looking for Cary to tell him he has a place to live and a family to take care of him. And I just want to find him before he does something stupid because he thinks he has no one and he's so mad and hurt."

Kadee's heart was thundering in her chest, watching him thread his fingers through hers. "Whose family?" she asked.

"Mine." Jon met her eyes. "His dad is going to jail, and his mom doesn't want him, so he's staying with us for good, and my parents will take care of him. If we can find him."

She couldn't have said why she did it. Her fingers were tingling in his and she leaned in, brushing a kiss on his lips light as sugar. His eyes widened, and his ears turned beet red. She got up with their tray to clear the table. "Let's find him, then."