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"Hey, Kev," Ives said as he plopped his lunch tray down, "you seen Tim today?"
"I could have asked you the same. He was supposed to return a book he borrowed from me before homeroom but never showed up to my locker."
"Guess that answers my question." Ives picked up his fork and poked at a rubbery pile of neon yellow gunk that the lunch lady had insisted was macaroni. "If I see him in civics this afternoon, I'll ask him about it."
Kevin raised a hand and crossed his fingers. "Thanks, man."
"You know," Ives said, his gaze wandering the usually bustling cafeteria, "maybe he caught that bug that's been going around."
"The one Callie got, right?"
"Perhaps. This whole place is a giant petri dish. It's probably not the only thing spreading around."
Kevin shrugged. "Maybe."
"Yeah, maybe."
-
His dad never goes into any details, but Ives knows one thing: It wouldn't have been a closed casket if it was just the stomach flu.