"Google says Michigan doesn't give a shit if we film at the park."

"Well, that was easy," Max said.

"Yeah. Someone should tell all the ice cream places Michigan's view of things."

Nolan chuckled as he grabbed his phone. "I'll let Willow know," he said. After nearly tripping on his own feet, though, he decided it might be best to wait until they were inside Hole in One—an odd name for a bowling alley, but, according to Andy, there was a story behind it. A story he'd forgotten to reveal when he immediately became distracted by something else.

The bowling alley burst to life as Max opened the glass door. Music blared from overhead speakers, colliding with the sound of toppling pins, rolling bowling balls, and various shouts and laughter.

Max and Andy led Nolan over to the front desk, where a guy about their age was doling out bowling shoes to a group of girls. "Hey, how can I help you?" the guy asked when they reached the counter.

"Hi," Nolan said. "Could we speak to a manager, please?"

"We in trouble?"

"Tons," Andy said.

"No," Nolan said.

They guy went out back and returned with a lanky man wearing a baseball hat. "What can I do for you guys today?" he asked, leaning forward on the counter.

"We're filming a music video for a friend," Nolan said, "and we were wondering if it would be okay to film a couple scenes here."

"There any bloods and guts?"

Nolan's eyebrows creased. What? "No."

"Nudity?"

"No."

"Huge props?"

"No."

"Large production crew?"

"Just six of us, total. The video will be going on YouTube."

The manager nodded his head from side to side. "Shouldn't be a problem then. Just don't get anyone else in the shot if you can avoid it, and if you can't, have release forms ready. If you're filming at the lanes, you need to buy a game to gain access, just like everyone else. Sound good?"

The boys shared a glance. "Sounds good," they said in unison.

"Okay then. Lemme just get that in writing for you..."

Nolan reached for his backpack, where a folder of various release forms had been stored, but the manager was already tugging out a blank piece of printer paper. "What are your names?"

"Nolan Haynes."

"Maxwell James."

"Andrew Cane."

He nodded, scrawled a note in blue ink, and handed them the piece of paper. "There you go."

"Thank you."

When the manager had left and they'd stepped away from the front counter, Nolan looked at the note.

I give Nolan Haynes, Maxwell James, Andrew Cane, and their production crew permission to film at Hole in One, as long as they mind who's in the shot and buy a game or time for their required lane. Don't agree with me, Al? Shut up.

- Julian Hendrick

"Julian Hendrick is my new idol," Max said. "If I didn't love my dad so much, I'd ask him to adopt me."

They laughed.

"While we're here, did you want to hit the arcade?" Max asked.

They looked between each other. Nolan nodded. Why did he nod?

The next thing he knew he was watching an intense match of Dance Dance Revolution.

"Come on, Andy!" Max said. "You gonna let this six-year-old beat you?"

And, floundering on a metal mat, glared over his shoulder. "This isn't a six-year-old!" he yelled. "This is a machine!"

"Actually," the little boy said, "I'm five."

"You're a machine, kid."

The boy's eyes lit up. "I'd love to be a robot."

Andy missed an arrow. And then another. And another. The little boy's feet danced rapidly across the mat, making every single note. Nolan snickered. This was priceless.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

noooolaaaan i'm booooored

Nora. She'd gotten into the habit of texting him. At first, it had been weird, but now his lips pricked upward as he typed, Sorry.

You guys should come shopping so I have something to do

We'll get right on that

Thank u (':

He looked up as the little boy cheered. "Rematch!" Andy shouted.

"This is getting pathetic," Max muttered. Nolan snorted.

The boy shrugged. "Okay."

Did we get hole in one? (:

Yup. After sending the first message, he sent a second. You know why it's called that?

Candy Cane forget to tell you?

Yup

"Oh, come on! You picked this song on purpose."

"I chose random," the boy said.

Nolan chuckled again. Wow. This was the most he'd laughed in a long time. As long as since he'd last had—

His smile fell. Friends.

His stomach clenched. He looked at Max, Andy, his phone, Max again. At the front desk...he'd called Nora a friend—so smooth, so natural. He hadn't thought twice.

No. This couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it.

"Guys," he said, "after this round, I need to get home."

"Okay."

No, he thought. It's not okay.

✝

Nolan went into the next filming session with three rules:

1. No speaking unless spoken to or otherwise necessary,

2. No laughing, and

3. No listening attentively to their conversations, unless germane to the production

These were basically the same rules he'd lived by since moving to Greeley—be polite, sure, but otherwise keep to himself. In the past, it was easy. But now?

Andy draped himself along Ashfield's slide and propped his head up on his elbow. When he sent the camera kissy faces, it was all Nolan could do not to laugh.

Why did they have to be such good people? This would be so much easier if they weren't amiable...

He looked dutifully away, at Willow as she sprawled on the grass. He filmed her picking at the shards, her lips twisted into a frown, and as she turned to face the sky. He stood over her so he could get a direct shot of her looking upward. "Okay," he said.

He stepped back, and she sat up. "Where next, boss?" she asked.

He looked over his shoulder, at Nora.

"To the swings!" Nora said.

The goal was basically to get shots of them doing anything and everything at the park. Some shots would have all of them, some would have one or two. Options.

He needed this to be over.

"Hey, who's going to youth group tonight?" Willow asked as she settled onto the swing. She started to pump her legs, but when Nolan held up a hand, she stopped.

Everyone but Nolan chorused variations of, "Me!"

"Did you want to go tonight, No-No?" Nora asked. The warmth in her voice was hard to take.

"No, thanks," he said. He hated that he was disappointed. He was upset about missing a church gathering? Really?

He adjusted the lens. "I need you to dig your feet into the wood chips and act troubled," he said.

"Gotcha."

She did as he asked, and he made his rounds, getting angle by angle. She pulled out her phone and reacted as though she'd received a hurtful message. More angles, more options. When he was done, Andy hopped onto the next available swing, and the two swung back and forth, grinning as they tried to out-pump each other.

Nolan got it all. Just concentrate on the composition. Don't listen. Don't laugh. Don't do anything.

"You okay?"

Nolan blinked. Max cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah," he said.

He turned. He could feel Max's eyes on him, but he did his best to ignore them. He was okay. This was okay. This was what he needed to do.

Another hour of filming, resisting, and avoiding. And then it was over.

"Okay, that's a wrap for the day!" Nora called. She grinned at him, but he didn't return the sentiment. Her smile faltered. "Good job, everyone."

They returned to the picnic table where they'd set all of their things. Water bottles were grabbed, backpacks hoisted. Nolan set his camera in his camera bag.

"I should be an actress," Nora said, standing next to him and sipping at her water bottle. "You think?"

"Sure," he said.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked.

He forced on a smile. "Fine," he said.

Her eyebrows creased, but she didn't push. "Okay," she said. "You heading straight home, or are you going with us to Willow's?"

"Straight home."

"Okay."

He nodded, and she was gone.

"Hey."

Max dropped onto the bench and patted the space next to him. Nolan zipped his bag and sat down.

"I know what you're doing," Max said.

"What?"

"You know, when I first moved here, I did the same thing," he said. He gestured toward Nora and the others, who were waiting by the car. "Military family—I had to move a lot, so I eventually made it a point not to make any friends."

Nolan's jaw locked. He splayed his fingers.

"I won't ask you what happened, or why you're doing it. But, you know what?"

He looked up.

"Life gets a whole lot less miserable when you let people in."

He looked away. The police officer's arms around him, hauling him away from the door.

"We're here for you," Max said, "when you're ready. Just think about it. Cool?"

Nolan bit his cheek. "Cool."

✝

Nolan stared up at his popcorn ceiling, fingers tapping against his phone, which sat on his chest.

Max's words rang through his head. "Life gets a whole lot less miserable when you let people in."

Except, that wasn't true.

He would lose them. One by one. Maybe suddenly, maybe not. Maybe they'd drift apart, never to talk to one another again. Maybe they'd get shot in a gas station. It didn't matter. They'd be gone, and it would hurt.

There was a soft knock on his door, and he lifted his head. "Yeah?"

Greg poked his head inside. "Hey," he said. "Whatcha doing?"

"Staring at my ceiling."

"Ah."

Greg perched on the edge of his bed. Nolan waited for him to speak, but he didn't. "What?" he asked.

"You've been avoiding me," Greg said.

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

Nolan sighed. "I've been busy."

"I know." Greg smiled. There it was again—the hope in his eyes. "And I'm glad. It's so good to see you hanging out with friends again."

Friends.

"I just want to make sure you're not avoiding me because of...well." Greg shrugged.

"Are you still thinking about it?"

Greg sighed. "Yeah. But it's not as big of a deal as it might sound. People take breaks all the time."

Yes, it is. "Okay."

Another sigh. "So, what have you and your friends been up to?" he asked. "Am I going to be able to see this secret project?"

"Maybe."

Greg smiled. "I'm really happy for you."

"What?" Nolan's eyebrows creased. "Why?"

"Because, it's been a really long time since I've seen you this at ease," he said. "It's nice." He stood. "Anyway, I'm making dinner. Did you want anything specific?"

"Not really."

"Spaghetti it is then."

The door shut, and Nolan was alone. He fell back on his bed. At ease? Was that what he'd been? He hadn't thought so, but, then again, he had had more energy lately. There was something about having a goal, about doing more than just counting down the hours until it would be time for bed...

No. You can't.

Nolan pressed his hands over his eyes. He thought about Nora's Sunday school students, about the prayer list on the wall. About Nora and her mom. Why can't I?

He already screwed up. The thought of not hanging out with them again made him sick to his stomach. He was already attached. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

He grumbled out a sigh and brought his phone to his ear.

"Hey, Nolan!" Nora said.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

Don't do it. Don't—

"Is the invitation to youth group still open?"