"So, you're into film?"

Nolan looked away from the window. Andy had just pulled out of Greeley High's parking lot and was heading for the main road. "I guess," he said.

"Is it what you want to do when you graduate?" Andy asked. He switched on the radio, but turned it down. Nolan wished he would turn it up. Not because he liked the song, but so the music could fill the silence so he wouldn't have to.

He shrugged. "Used to be."

"Oh," Andy said. "What do you want to do now?"

"Not sure."

Not sure. Of course, he was. He didn't want to do anything. Any interest he'd had in making a career for himself had died with his parents.

Andy grinned. "Same, dude. It's driving my parents nuts. They're like, 'You shouldn't go to college if you don't know what you want to do.' And I keep telling them, 'Let me just get to college first and then I'll figure it out.' For some reason, that doesn't make them feel any better."

Nolan's lips twitched.

"So, Little Haynes is your brother," Andy said. A random subject change, but Nolan was grateful.

"Yup."

"He invite you to the wedding?"

Nolan's eyebrows shot upward. "What?"

"Few weeks ago, Little Haynes told Garner he and Grace were getting married." Grace. Sam's last name.

"He's eight."

"That's why he asked Nora to officiate. Apparently, no one else would take the wedding seriously? Like, dude, I'm sitting right here."

"At least you were invited."

"We'll see. He said my invitation's in the mail. If it doesn't arrive in time, I'm gonna be pissed. I love me some wedding cake."

Nolan smiled despite himself.

"You ever have wedding cake? That shit is delicious."

Caleb and two redheads were waiting outside Fern Elementary when Andy pulled up to the small circle surrounding the school's entrance. Even before he switched from Drive to Park, the kids were racing toward them.

"Caleb has the lead," Andy said. "But Jenny is close behind—op. She's first now. Sorry, Nolan."

Nolan's lips twitched.

"Vick closing in—"

"Vick?"

"Yeah, my parents went and named him Victor, like he's an eighty-year-old man. Vick makes him sound a little edgier, but still no younger than forty."

Something slapped against the side of the Jeep. "Yes!" Jenny cried.

"Hey, hey," Andy rebuked as the door flung open and the three piled in. "Hands off the merchandise."

"What merchandise?" Jenny asked, buckling in. She'd nabbed the seat behind her brother.

"You know very well what merchandise."

She stuck out her tongue. He returned the sentiment.

Nolan twisted around in his seat as Caleb buckled. "I hear you're getting married," he said.

"Your invitation's in the mail."

"I live with you."

"We like stamps."

The ride back to Greeley was a short one. Caleb chatted with Jenny and Vick, and Nolan talked with Andy. Soon enough, Andy was parking in the parking lot. Despite there being numerous closer spots, he chose the one he'd been parked in before. "Hey, this is my spot," he said when Jenny and Vick whined. "She and I have been through a lot together."

Maybe it was because Nolan had been in the front seat and Caleb had been in the back, or maybe it was because Caleb had spoken with the hyper energy the whole way back to the high school, but it wasn't until they started across the parking lot that Nolan noticed that something was wrong.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing," Caleb said. When Nolan just stared at him, unbelieving, he averted his gaze to the ground. "Nothing, really. Just..."

"Just?"

Caleb bit his lip.

"Did Johnny do something?"

His grip tightened on his backpack straps. So, Nolan had guessed correctly.

"What did he do?"

Caleb shrugged.

Nolan sighed. He wanted to press, but doing this in front of Andy and his siblings would only serve to upset Caleb more. So, he just nodded and allowed the subject to drop. For now.

"Who missed us?" Andy called as they returned to the classroom.

Erin and Willow looked away from one of the computers.

"No one?" Andy asked. "Wow."

"I did," Erin said.

"Don't pity me, Bailey."

"Come listen to this," Willow said, waving them over.

They crowded around the computer. Willow unplugged her headset and turned the volume down. "So we don't mess up Max," she said.

"Mess up Max?" Caleb asked.

"He's listening to Nora record a new take," she explained. "But listen."

She pressed Play, and music flowed from the speakers.

"Wait, you recorded the instrumental without me?" Andy asked. "What the hell, man?"

"Swear jar."

"No, this doesn't count. I've been betrayed."

"It was a practice run," Willow said. "We realized it would be easier for Nora to do vocals with cues." When Andy continued to pout, she sighed. "That means we're recording again."

"Oh." He grinned. "I forgive you."

"Yeah-huh."

"The moon is out, but there's no light."

Everyone shut up.

Nolan had heard Nora sing before. But hearing her sing now, paired with this somber tune rather than children's worship songs...her voice was beautiful.

"Nora's so good!" Caleb squealed, clapping his hands as the song closed out. "Can we listen to it again?"

They did.

✝

Nolan's fingers tapped against his keyboard, aimless. He couldn't hit Enter.

He was being ridiculous. It was Facebook—it wasn't like he was standing outside his old school, preparing to reenter. But, in a way, that's exactly what it felt like. When he hit Enter, he would be thrown back into the remains of a life that had been stolen away.

Come on.

He had to do it. However, knowing this didn't seem to matter, because his finger refused to put any pressure on the key.

Would Chris be online? He used to live on Facebook.

Nolan chewed on the inside of his cheek. He just wouldn't look at his list of friends online. He wouldn't look at any messages. Just get in, accept friend requests, get access to the group, and get out. Simple.

He pressed Enter.

A mistake.

His stomach seized even before the home page loaded. It's grip only tightened when the red of hundreds of notifications littered the top of the screen. In what way had he expected to avoid this? The notifications were right next to the friend requests.

He couldn't help it: he glanced toward the chat bar. His breath caught. Chris was online.

He raced to his friend requests. There were over thirty—some from people he used to go to school with, some from total strangers, and five from Greeley.

He accepted the five and waited. The green dot next to Chris's name weighed down on him.

In the left corner of his screen, a pop-up notification informed him he'd been added to a group called The Music Video. He let out a relieved breath of air and clicked on the notification. Finally.

The group, including Nolan, had seven people. It was so weird, being in a group with a teacher—to even see his teacher's Facebook account.

Three posts had been made: an introduction post, deeming this the hub for any important information about the production, a request for best places to reach them as well as any known schedules, and an attachment with the screenplay.

He itched to check out the screenplay, but forced himself to concentrate on the informational post first.

Number is (555) 555-3054. My schedule is more based on my brother's, because I babysit Caleb when he's at work.

Using his phone to check his babysitting schedule, he jotted down his availability for the next two weeks. And then it was finally time to check out the screenplay.

Erin had written a small message over her attachment:

Hey! Attached is the ROUGH DRAFT of the screenplay. I know the actual formatting for music video screenplays is different, but I figured we could adjust the format later, after we discuss whether anything needs to be changed. If you guys could check it out and give me some notes, that would be awesome. I hope it's okay! 🤭

Nolan downloaded the PDF file and started to read. As Erin had described, the main character went through life dealing with anxiety. She would be trying to sleep, brushing her teeth, getting ready for the day, and she would be attacked by hateful messages. She would be out with friends and receive messages saying they were just pitying her, that everything she said was stupid. She'd be smiling, but, on the inside, she was reeling.

As he read, he made notes out of text boxes, leaving both positive comments and the occasional critique or question. Overall, the piece was solid—a good, complete arc, leading to a satisfying ending. Well, as satisfying as it could be for him, given that the main character's solution was to let God hold her up. It matched the theme of the song, anyway.

Already, his mind was laying out possible shots, locations. His fingers tapped against the keypad, but, this time, for a whole new reason. He could see it. And no matter how hard he tried to shove it down, he couldn't help it: he was excited to see this come to life.

✝

"One more chapter!"

Nolan closed the book he'd just spent the last thirty minutes reading. The illustration of Harry Potter riding a broom and attempting to catch the golden snitch stared back at him. "No," he said. "Time for bed."

Caleb cuddled his pillow and pouted. "Greg would read one more chapter."

"Do I look like Greg to you?"

He stared. "A little."

Nolan rolled his eyes and sat up. Across the room, tucked in the corner, sat a small bookcase. On it was Caleb's small but well-loved book collection. It held a few picture books. The Harry Potter series. A few of E.B. White's novels. A couple Geronimo Stilton. The collection was Caleb's most prized possession—every one of these books came from their parents.

Their parents used to read to Caleb. They would bicker constantly over who did the best and worst impressions of the characters. In reality, they both sucked, but it was always entertaining.

Greg and Nolan had been doing their best to keep up the tradition. When Greg was home, he'd read to Caleb, and when he wasn't, Nolan took over. However, Nolan refused to do voices. He would be crap, and he didn't feel like looking like an idiot.

"Come on, Nolan, please?"

"Fine," Nolan said. Caleb started to cheer, but Nolan cut him off before he could finish. "If you tell me what happened at school today."

Caleb huffed and threw his blanket over his head.

"Okay then," Nolan said. He stood, started to cross the room—

"Wait."

Nolan stopped and turned.

Caleb removed the blanket from his head, a scowl at the ready. "You're mean," he said.

"I'm concerned."

"And mean," Caleb grumbled. He let out a long sigh and patted the spot next to him. He waited until Nolan had returned to his side before speaking. "Johnny made a drawing and showed it to my class."

Nolan's eyes widened. "What—"

"Sammy took it from Roscoe and ripped it up," Caleb hurried to say. He smiled. "I didn't even see. So, no biggy."

No biggy? This wasn't a no biggy.

"Caleb—"

"I told you," Caleb said. "Now it's time to read!"

Nolan sighed, but opened to their current page. There wasn't a point in working him up even further—especially not right before bed. "Chapter seventeen," he said.