“Yeah, I asked her to cover my shift.”

“I figured I’d find you here,” Josh says. “Only you’d be crazy enough to skate Fillmore today. Not that I expected to find you on the actual lake, but—hey, what’s wrong?” His eyes are soft and warm, two bright lights in all the darkness. My heart fills with a mixture of happiness and dread, the craziness of the last few weeks finally catching up. I open my mouth to speak, but my throat tightens, tears spilling from my eyes as I think about falling through the ice again. He wraps himself around me and presses my head to his chest.

“You see the videos,” I say absently, “but you never think it’ll happen to you. If you weren’t out there today …”

He kisses me on the forehead, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. “But I was. And you’re lucky I’ve seen a lot of those survival shows.”

“With the guy who eats bugs?”

“Precisely.”

“You’re such a boy. No wonder my brother likes you.”

“Your brother likes me? Score!”

“Score if you like robots, army men, and hamsters.”

Josh laughs. “Who doesn’t?”

Grateful for the levity, I pull away from him and heft my backpack over my shoulder. “Just so you know, I have a granola bar, half a thermos of hot—well, cold by now—chocolate, and some slightly mashed cupcakes. I’m not eating any bugs.”

“Good to know. Watch where you step.” Josh reaches for my hand, gingerly leading me across the building to another large room, where a bunch of desks and file cabinets line the perimeter, covered in junk and cobwebs. On one end, a rusty sign hangs over a doorway, crooked on a single hinge: DANGER—HOT ACIDS!

“This place is so strange.” I swipe a finger over an old desk, leaving a clean line in the dust. “It’s like they all just got up and left. Nobody packed or took stuff away or knocked it down. It’s just …”

“Abandoned.”

The wind slams into the wall outside, and the entire building moans and shudders against the onslaught. I shiver and retie my scarf, memories slipping through my head like snow through the cracks in the walls. The horrible, slushy sound of the lake beneath the ice. The frozen expanse cracking against my ribs. Everything changing in an instant. How could I be so reckless? Ten more seconds and—

“Hudson?”

“Sorry.” I shove my hands in my fleece pockets, momentarily comforted by the familiar crinkle of Lola’s foundation letter. “I was just … do you think this place is haunted?”

“Nah, it’s not like everyone died here. They probably thought it would reopen and they’d get their jobs back. There’s tons of places like this in Ohio, too. Welcome to the Rust Belt.” Josh picks up a weathered jar of something that looks like bright pink cat litter, but is probably one of the aforementioned HOT ACIDS.

“Careful with that,” I say. “There’s a reason all the fish around here have two heads and no eyes.”

“Ah, good point.” Delicately, he sets it back on the shelf next to a row of similarly filled containers, some pink like his and others gray or white. “Help me look through the drawers. We need matches or a lighter or something.”

I rummage through file drawers and cubbies until I find an old Zippo lighter with a World Trade Center emblem, 9-11-2001 etched on the back. Obviously, we’re not the first urban explorers to visit the place since its closure, though I can’t think of anyone who’d willingly hang out here other than Dani, who’d probably shoot a thousand pictures in this creeptastic corner alone.

I wish I could tell her about it.

Josh drags a metal trash can over near an opening in the wall and fills it with paper and dead leaves and any other dry material we can safely identify as not a HOT ACID. He starts the fire easily with the lighter, gray smoke billowing up toward the glassless window frames.

“Nice job, Boy Scout.” I rub my hands over the flames. “If we had a can of beans and a harmonica, we’d rock this joint hobo-style.”

“Pull another stunt like that on the ice and I’ll throw your ass on the next coal train myself. Then you’ll know hobo-style.” He sits on a large, empty worktable. “What were you doing that far out, anyway?”

I stash my backpack under the table and take a seat next to him. “I … don’t know. I was skating on the runoff, then I felt like … like I wanted to go … away. Something was daring me, and I couldn’t get far enough. Crazy, right? It’s like I was trying to skate to Canada.”

The fire reflects in his eyes, and in the soft orange glow of the flames, he looks older. Serious. “Hudson—”

“Thanks for … you know. Out there. What you did.” I shudder when I think about it again, imagining the rescue squad fishing me out, blue and gone. Josh explaining to my mom what happened. That he tried, but couldn’t save me …

The tears creep back into my eyes but I force them away. “Hungry?” I hop off the table and grab my bag. “We can have a two-course lunch, assuming you actually prefer cupcakes and granola bars to insects.”

“It’s an emergency,” he says. “I’ll make do. But can I ask you a question?”

“As long as it’s not about eating bugs.”

Josh slides off the table and finds some more cardboard for the fire, dusting his hands together over the popping flames. “You doing okay? I mean, are you warm enough?” Pop pop pop.

“I’m fine. Still kind of freaked out, but I’m warm.” I resume my place on the table and dig out the goodies. “The fire was a good idea.”

“Good.” He sits next to me and takes a cupcake from the Tupperware balanced on my lap, our legs touching. Pop.

“Yeah.” Pop pop … pop.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t freezing.”

“I’m okay.” Pop. “It’s comfortable.”

“Good,” he says.

“Not too hot, not too—”

“What’s going on with you and Harper?”

POP!

“Nothing.” I keep my eyes fixed on the flames.

“So you guys are just … hanging out?”

W.W.H.D.? Hester? Any ideas? No?

“Not exactly,” I say. Come on, Hud. Now’s your chance. Tell him. “We’re not … we kind of … it’s not like he was my boyfriend or anything.” I unwrap my cupcake and toss the paper into the fire, wishing I could channel the fearless determination I felt on the ice the moment I heard his voice. The second before the ice cracked and everything changed. “Anyway, what about you? How’s, um, Abby? Angie? What’s her name?”

Oh, Hudson. Your suavity is an example to all.

“Abby?” Josh’s forehead crinkles. “She’s … she’s good.”

“She doesn’t go to Watonka High, right? How did you guys meet?”

“I see you didn’t get the memo.” Josh laughs, and then his face turns serious. He looks at me a moment longer, like he’s trying to decide how to break the girlfriend news, or how much of his secret relationship he wants to reveal.

He takes a deep breath and rubs his head. “Okay, here’s the story. Abby and I go way back. We basically met in the hospital when we were born.”

“You’ve known this girl your entire life? Like, literally?” That’s flat-out no competition right there. Born on the same day, in the same hospital? They’re practically soul mates.

“Yep.”

“Whoa. So do you … does she … um …”

“Abby’s my sister, Hudson. We’re twins.”

“Oh thank God! I mean, thank God … that you … have a sister … what a special … um … napkin?” I pass it over and jam half a cupcake in my mouth to prevent the release of any more stupidity. A sister? He has a sister? And all this time, I thought she was his girlfriend? How hard did I hit my head that first day on the ice?

I meet his eyes and he smiles, my stomach launching into its own triple/triple combo.

“It’s kind of complicated.” Josh downs the rest of his cupcake and tosses the paper into the fire. “I don’t talk about it much. I guess I figured Will told you or something.”

I shake my head.