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Nico and I ride the bus home from school together. It’s not surprising that he made a bunch of new friends today, but he still sits next to me.

“How was school?” I ask him.

“Pretty good,” he says. “A lot of kids like to play baseball.”

I wish I was good at sports like Nico. I’m good at swimming because Dad taught me, but it’s not a group activity. I don’t even think there’s a swim team for kids my age. The other thing I like to do is read, and that’s not a group activity either.

“Some of the kids are going to the park this weekend to play baseball,” he says. “Maybe Mom will let me go.”

“Just be careful,” I say. “Did you know that there was this kid named Braden Lundie who disappeared a few years ago? He was about your age too. Nobody even knows what happened to him.”

“So?”

“So! Something happened to him. Maybe somebody killed him.”

“Geez, Ada.” Nico rolls his eyes. “You worry more than Mom.”

He might be right. I don’t know why I worry about things so much. I wish I could turn off my worrying.

“If you’re worried,” Nico says, “you can come and watch.”

I might do that, but really, I would rather be spending time with kids my own age. I didn’t make any friends today. Well, except for Gabe, and I really, really don’t want to spend any time with him outside school. It’s bad enough I have to see him at school.

“Did you sleep better having your own room last night?” I ask Nico.

He thinks about it for a minute and shakes his head. “No, I was scared. I missed you.”

I’m glad he said that. I had so much trouble sleeping last night all alone in my room. “I miss you too.”

“Maybe we can have a sleepover sometime?” he suggests. “I can bring a sleeping bag and sleep on the floor in your room.”

“Or I can sleep in your room?”

“We can take turns,” he says happily.

The bus arrives on Locust Street, which is the dead-end street where we live. Nico and I climb out, along with that kid Spencer who lives across the way. Spencer’s mom is already waiting for him and immediately takes him home, but our mom is waiting in the house. I’ve got the keys to the house in my bag, and Mom says if she’s not home from work yet when we get home, I’m in charge until she gets back.

As we pass the house next door to ours, I notice somebody at the window. It must be our neighbor. It’s a man about the same age as Dad, and when he sees us, he waves. Nico waves back, and so do I, but I feel weird about it. I don’t know why that man is standing at the window, watching the school bus arrive.

It’s just a strange thing to do.