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“Perfect. I’ll bring a whistle.”

“You already make enough noise without one,” I muttered to myself.

Alvin heard me anyway and pressed a hand to his chest. “That was almost a joke.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It had structure and timing.”

“It was an observation,” I countered.

“You’re growing.”

The kids scattered, pairing off into groups of seeks and finders, while Omar stayed in the clearing to supervise the first round. I went in the opposite direction, pushing through the trees until the voices faded. I found a narrow space between two old pines and crouched behind a fallen trunk. The bark dug into my back, and mud started to soak through one knee of my shorts.

It was quiet. For almost thirty seconds. Then a twig snapped, and I closed my eyes.

“Darius,” Alvin sang out. “I know you’re around here somewhere.”

I stayed silent.

“You’re very bad at hiding.”

I remained still.

“You breathe like an angry bear.”

I opened my eyes. “Go away,” I grunted at him.

Alvin stepped around the tree and grinned at me. “Fancy seeing you here, partner.”

“How did you find me?”

“You have the stealth capabilities of that old refrigerator your mom used to keep out in the garage. The one that went: hmm, gurg-gurg, blub-blub, click-clack, and finally shit out a ton of ice all at once.”

“Pretty sure the fridge never made any of those sounds, and I was quiet.”

“You were stomping.”

“I was walking.”

“You were stomping with intent.”

I stood, brushing dirt from my shorts before flicking a ladybug off my arm and pretending it didn’t send a shiver down my spine. “You found me. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I’d like to thank my feet, my eyes, and Darius D’Angelo’s lifelong predictability.” Alvin raised his hands towards his imaginary audience and took a bow.

By the time he was standing upright again, I was glaring at him with my arms crossed over my chest. “I am not predictable.”

“You are in every way that matters,” he threw back at me, and I was pretty certain there was double-edged meaning behind it.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked him, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Alvin shrugged a shoulder. “It means I knew you’d hide somewhere dark, damp, and miserable.”

“You’re describing most of my childhood.”

“See? Predictable.” He was still smiling, but it was strained. I noticed because I’d spent half my life studying Alvin too. Or I had before I started pretending I didn’t know him anymore. He took one step closer. “You’ve been glaring at Omar.”