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I met those boys in the video in kindergarten, maybe all at the same time. Even then, you rarely saw one without the other two nearby. The reason I considered Seth Frasier my oldest friend was that he lived the closest, whereas, Ethan Scott and Tristan Lazaro lived in other parts of town. I got to spend extra time with just him.

There weren't many kids who lived in our neighborhood and we were the only ones in our grade. Even though we didn't seem to have that much in common, it was natural for us to gravitate toward each other. We didn't have that many options, especially when we were really small and weren't allowed to go any farther than up and down the street on our own.

We rode the same bus to school, waited—and were dropped off—at the same stops, and ensured that, rain or shine, there would be at least one guest at each other's birthday parties.

That had been the extent of our friendship until, one day, when we were nine years old and in the third grade, my dad signed me up for piano and singing lessons with his mom. I went to his house everyday for about a year, and, in the process, got to know him better.

That was, basically, all I had to show for those lessons but it seemed like a good deal at the time. I got a best friend who lived, not only in the same neighborhood, but also on the same street, just five houses away—or, more accurately, four houses and one empty lot. Said lot was sandwiched between two houses on my side of the street and two on his, making it the hallway point from one house to the other. We were always running into each other there and it sort of became our usual meeting place over the years.

It was also the last place where I last saw Seth Frasier—live and in person.

***

On the last night of school before summer vacation, I got dressed and headed out for my usual early evening run at the neighborhood park. I preferred this time because my mother always told me to avoid the sun and I couldn't be bothered to get up at dawn.

In a lot of places, this would be inadvisable, but I lived in Riverside, in what was probably the most boring suburb in the Inland Empire. The only danger here was an overactive imagination.

The sun had set but it was not yet completely dark when I left the house. The park I was going to was a few minutes' walk in the direction of Seth's house and the empty lot. As I neared it, I noticed that Seth was there, which wasn't at all surprising. He was crouched on the sidewalk and leaning back on the fence of tall wooden planks built around the uninhabited property to keep trespassers out. He was fidgeting quite a bit and looking distraught, for some reason. I picked up my pace and approached him.

"Hey, Seth." I touched his black Converse All-Stars with the toe of my light pink Nikes. He must have not noticed me because he looked startled, at first, and then, relieved.

"Hey, Adrian," he said, smiling.

"Were you waiting for me?" I asked, my brows furrowing. I checked my phone before leaving the house and there hadn't been any messages telling me he would be here. I was about to unzip the pocket of my track jacket to look at my phone again when he scoffed.

"You wish," he said. I was dumbfounded, until his big brown eyes twinkled, giving away the joke. He laughed shortly after; I felt defensive all of a sudden and glared at him.

"Rude. I was just wondering why you're here," I said, huffing.

He pursed his lips together, suppressing his smile. "Maybe you're not the only one who goes running at night anymore." I rolled my eyes and he quirked his mouth once again at my reaction. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because I know you. You've never played a sport in your life."

"What are you talking about? I play all kinds of sports— baseball, basketball, football, tennis..."

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