Donny lifted both arms and flexed his biceps like he was Arnold Schwarzenegger or something. Nero laughed so hard he was sure he sounded like a braying donkey, but no way was he taking off his shirt. Again, Donny was the lucky one; Nero was scrawny and pale.
They messed around on the skateboard for a while. A few buses came and went, expelling passengers who ignored them and headed for their cars or took the stairs up to the street. Donny demonstrated how to balance on the board and even let Nero try riding the stairs—which he completely failed at, ending up with a massively skinned knee to show for it.
“Dude, there’s no point if there’s no blood,” Donny pronounced while Nero sat on the ground, holding the edge of his t-shirt against the gash. “Chicks dig scars.”
Nero laughed nervously. Did guys dig scars as much as girls? He’d never talked to anyone about it. He didn’t need another thing setting him apart from “normal people,” but he thought he liked both.
“My mom will be pissed if I have to get stitches or something,” Nero grumbled. It was even hotter out now, and he was regretting not bringing water or something else to drink along with him. But he hadn’t wanted to weigh his backpack down so all he had was a peanut butter sandwich.
“Nah,” Donny said, bending to take a look at Nero’s shin, “you don’t need stitches or anything. But, dude, I don’t think Tony Hawk has anything to be nervous about.”
Nero snorted and opened his mouth to pretend Donny had hurt his feelings, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything.
“Hey!”
Donny and Nero both looked up and over toward the voice.
A man had gotten out of the van that Nero had completely forgotten about and opened the back doors.
“I have a first aid kit if you need it,” he called out.
Nero was about to say no, but Donny answered for him.
“Sure, that’s awesome. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
“Donny…” Nero began.
But his cousin was already jogging across the lot toward the van. Nero struggled to his feet, intending to go after him, try and stop him. Although he wasn’t sure what he could do with blood dribbling down his leg onto the new shoes his mom had bought for the start of the school year.
“Donny!” he yelled again, louder this time, as he limped to the curb. “Come back!”
His call was ignored. Donny slowed down as he neared the van. The driver—Nero assumed it was the driver—leaned into the dark interior of the vehicle. Nero saw Donny’s lips moving but couldn’t hear what was said.
Then it happened.
A terrifying slow-motion video clip that Nero Vik relived for the rest of his life.
He watched as the man grabbed his cousin and tossed him into the back of the vehicle like he weighed nothing. Forcing the back door shut, the man ran around to the driver’s side.
The sound of the driver’s door slamming had Nero skip-limping even faster toward the van to—what? Stop it? Rescue Donny from someone who was twice his size? Nero wasn’t sure, but he kept moving anyway.
The van’s engine roared and, with a screech of tires and a cough of exhaust smoke, it raced away, taking Donny with it. Nero outright ran now, but the van disappeared around a far corner and onto another street, a cloud of dust billowing behind it. Panting, bleeding, standing in the middle of the lot for what seemed like forever, Nero caught himself wondering if maybe what had just happened had been an elaborate practical joke.
Donny was well known for his creativity.
Minutes passed. Nero didn’t move, and the van didn’t return. Finally, a city bus arrived and he pulled himself together enough to get out of its way. A lone woman disembarked, and the bus left again.
She must have sensed something because she paused on her walk to her car, glancing at his bloody leg. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”
Nero opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. What he needed to say was choking him, making it hard to breathe.
No, he wasn’t okay. And he didn’t know if he’d ever be okay again.
The police arrived and all Nero had was a discarded t-shirt and precious skateboard as evidence that his cousin had been there and was now gone. He finally broke down and cried.
“It’s all right, son,” the grim-faced police officer said as she patted his shoulder.
THREE