CHAPTER TWOAfter that first dining hall work shift, I had maybe forty-five minutes before psych, my next class, and I wanted to head back to Hunter Hall and take a shower. But my phone rang. I would have ignored it, but the screen displayed a photo of Neil and his tall, blond hiking buddy, Jeremy Ford, arms draped on each other’s shoulders as they beamed smiles at whoever was taking the shot. Behind them, I knew because Neil had told me all about it, was the famous knife edge at the summit of Mount Katahdin in Maine.
"Hey, bro," I said into the phone, my mind silently registering how much Jeremy looked like El Speed.
"Hey, yourself! Why aren’t you in class?" His tone was teasing.
"Bustin’ my balls, eh? Why aren’t you?"
I heard his laugh, an honest, open sound. "Say, listen. I just got
