Page 135 of I Wish You All the Best

It’s time, but I’m still not sure what he’s doing. I double-check that the ticket is still in my pocket, right where I put it this afternoon.

When I make it to his door, I nearly just run back home and forget the whole thing. But this is obviously important to Nathan. I ring the doorbell and wait a few seconds, listening for the sound of footsteps. But there’s nothing. Not even Ryder’s barking. I knock again and wait. Still nothing.

Then my phone starts to ring, Nathan’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Come on inside, it’s unlocked,” he says.

“Okay.” I open the front door slowly. “Where are you?”

“You’re getting warmer.”

“Nathan.”

“Play along? I spent all week planning this. Now, where are you?”

“The hallway by the kitchen.” I think I can hear his voice. Somewhere around here.

“Okay, you’re still lukewarm at best. Like when you warm up chili in the microwave and it’s hot on the outside but cold in the middle?”

“That’s a gross metaphor.”

“A simile, my dear Watson.”

“Did I tell you I passed my English exam?”

“No, that’s great!”

“Yup. Well, I barely passed the class with a C, but I did it.”

“Oh, Benji, I knew you could do it.”

“No help from you,” I say, and I can almost hear him smiling. “You know you could save me some time and let me know where you are?” I keep moving through the kitchen, ducking into the living room. Still nothing.

“That, my dear friend, would spoil all the fun.”

“Should I go up the stairs?”

“Maybe.”

“Nathan.”

“It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

I climb the stairs slowly, almost afraid of what I’m going to find up here. The hallway is mostly dark, the only light coming from the crack in his door. And is that music? “Nathan?”

“Warmer.”

I open the door to his room slowly. It’s empty, looking the same as it usually does except his bed isn’t made. And there’s a blazer thrown over the back of his desk chair. “You aren’t here,” I say.

“Where else would I be, then?”

My eyes automatically go to the window, which is sitting wide open. “Outside?”

“Warmer.” Then he ends the call. I slip my phone back into my pocket and try to climb outside without injuring myself. Which is easier said than done. But he’s waiting for me in our usual spot with that white blanket laid out under a pile of pillows.

“You’re here.” He looks up at me, and there’s that smile.