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shy-looking girl is with him.
    Her name is Barbara, and he’s told her all about you. …
    Midnight Musings
    You WILL tell him off.
    Again.
    You were too chicken to do it over lunch. Not that you COULD anyway, with BARBARA
    standing right there, smiling at you, and your mind still on Alex and his secret life. All you could do was smile and say hi and try to act normal because she seemed like a nice enough person, as you watch Alex disappear down the hallway.
    But you will tell Jay off, when you get the chance. If you have to yell at him a hundred times, you will.
    DUCKY, YOU WILL NOT BE DUMPED ON.
    But first things first.
    The Alex department.
    Some progress.
    Talked to him after school. A little. He seemed in a hurry to get home. Maybe he had a shrink appointment.
    Here’s what I [sic] learned:
    He’s depressed. He’s been depressed his whole life. It gets better, then it gets worse. That’s why he’s in therapy.
    WHAT is he depressed about?
    HE WON’T SAY.
    The divorce?
    You asked him that. He said no. He’s handling that fine. Or so he says. Besides, he was in therapy BEFORE that.
    Is it Paula? YOU wouldn’t love having her for a younger sister. But PLENTY of people have bratty siblings. They don’t have to go to a shrink for it for a while lifetime.
    School? Girl problems?
    Is ANYTHING so serious that a person would need therapy for so long?
    Therapy is supposed to HELP. You have a problem, you go, you talk, to get better. Like going to the doctor. Like what Ted did.
    But this is different. This is almost a WHOLE LIFE.
    A whole life with YOU in the middle of it. You, his best friend. His IGNORANT best friend, thinking you knew everything about him but not knowing a thing.
    Why DIDN’T you know?
    Why didn’t he tell you? You could have listened to his problems and helped him. Maybe he’d be better off now.
    His shrink sure hasn’t helped.
    Was the problem YOU?
    Did you do something wrong?
    Okay, you once squirted him in the eye with a water pistol and he said he wanted to kill you.
    That was in third grade.
    You made Dad rent that horror movie with Alex and you were seven — and no one checked the rating, and it was so scary that Alex had nightmares for a week and his mom lectured you about unsuitable images. That was your fault.
    You convinced him to sneak into Mrs. Kennedy’s yard and she caught him but not you, and when she threatened to call the police and Alex was shaking with fear, you did nothing to help him.
    My god, YOU WERE A LOUSY FRIEND. And what did you do during the Snyders’ divorce?
    Nothing. You never wanted to talk about it. You didn’t understand, and you figured it wasn’t your business.
    How would YOU feel if you were a kid in the middle of your biggest life crisis, and your best friend just abandoned you?
    You’d lose it.
    You’d probably be just like Alex.
    DUCKY. CHILL.
    You are marking a big deal out of this. At least he’s talking to you. At least he’s confiding something.
    After a lifetime of keeping secrets from you.
    Idea Over Breakfast
    Here’s a thought:
    Alex is quiet and miserable.
    Sunny is loud and miserable.
    They might actually get along.
    Maybe they should meet.
    Upon Further Reflection
    Over Lunch
    What are you, nuts?
    In Which
    Christopher Discovers
    That He Is Still Enrolled in School
    You should have given Ms. Patterson TWO carnations on Valentine’s Day, Ducky.
    Maybe you wouldn’t have flunked the math test.
    But you didn’t. And you did.
    You are in deep doo-doo.
    A Passage of Several Days
    … And you are still alive.
    You even know the difference between a cosine and a sine. Possibly. Your brain is friend from math study, which is why you haven’t written.
    Ms. Patterson knows you write in this journal during class. If you open it again in math, she confiscates it.
    Which his why you are spending lunch period hunched in the corner of the cafeteria, scribbling away.
    LOTS TO TELL. WHERE TO BEGIN?
    Okay.
    Part One. Jay.
    Just when you think it’s