There’s a special kind of anxiety that accompanies a call or text after midnight, a sense of cold dread that makes your palms sweat and chest tighten. That’s what happened to me when We’re leaving Calgary popped up on my home screen with no further explanation.

I kept rereading the message, each time thinking I’d misread something. This was so sudden; what the hell happened? When some of the shock subsided, I began mashing out a series of panicked responses that got angrier the longer they sat unread.

“What’s wrong?” The tip of a finger poked at my upper arm, but I swatted it away.

“Hold on a minute,” I said, chewing on a fingernail while staring at the phone screen, which had dimmed to conserve what little battery life remained.

After another minute of nothing, I dropped the phone into my lap and leaned back against the bed. The water-stained ceiling of my best friend’s room rolled into view, and I rubbed my forehead before glancing at Mike who was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to me.

“I don’t know what’s going on with my parents.”

“Breathe, man. You always make things worse when you get like this.” Mike settled his hand onto the base of my neck, moving his thumb over a tense muscle in a firm circular motion. Every inch of my body buzzed and heated at his touch, most notably my face, but I forced that feeling back into exile, like I always did. We’d been close friends for years, but once puberty hit, everything got weird.

All the girls went crazy for Mike and all the guys wanted to be him. He was six feet of toned muscle, hardened by three years of football and off-season sports. His skin was olive-toned with a small patch of brown from a birthmark on his left cheek, and his eyes were deep caramel, though they always seemed a little brighter when we were together. It was hard to believe that the once lanky, awkward middle school LARPer who played Magic the Gathering would end up an Adonis his senior year.

Though he’d left me far behind physically, we never stopped being close. There were times I wanted to blurt out what I really felt about him, but I didn’t want things to get awkward between us—well, more awkward, anyway. Sports and clubs had taken most of his free time, and I dual-enrolled in college courses. Whenever we did have time to hang out together at school, I was always the background noise while everyone else took his attention. No, I’d carry this to my grave.

“Are they talkin’ about divorce again?” Mike removed his hand from my shoulder and raised an eyebrow, his fingers now fidgeting with the remote control. It was hard for him to understand what my family life was like, considering how happy his home was.

“Nah, it’s not that, I don’t think,” I responded, my tone wistful. I jumped when the phone vibrated in my lap before holding it up so I could see the response I’d been dreading.

Jasper.

“Shit,” I said through clenched teeth before tossing the phone in a fit of anger. It bounced off the wall and fell to the cream-colored carpet, the rubber case hopefully protecting it from my temper.

“They’re at it again.” My eyes watered as I looked up at Mike. “I guess things are bad enough that we’re moving.”

“What? Where?”

“Jasper.”

The room got uncomfortably quiet again, save for the gentle hum of a humidifier in the corner.

Mike finally opened his mouth to speak. “What the hell’s in Jasper?”

“I don’t know. She’s being vague, which means they’re probably fighting right now.”

“It’s your senior year.” I felt his muscles tense as he leaned against me. “You know my folks’ll take you in, right? You wouldn’t have to leave everyone, and I don’t care if you share my room.”

Heat flushed my face again, spreading from my forehead to the base of my jaw as I thought about sharing this small bedroom with him on a more permanent basis.

“Hello? Have you met my mom?”

We both let out loud sighs.

“Damn it,” Mike muttered as the television screen went black. “Damn it,” he repeated through his teeth a little louder. The evening had started out light-hearted, with us watching another hilariously awful horror film. It took one text to send my social life crashing to the ground in flames. “I don’t even know what to say about this.”

“After everything they’ve done, this bullshit sits in the top tier.” I raised my knees and folded my arms over them. “You’re so lucky.”

“At least you guys got money.”

“Money doesn’t make things any less shitty, Mike.”

He draped a sinewy arm over my shoulders, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey,” he said, giving me a slight shake. “Promise me you’ll keep in touch, and I don’t mean every once in a while.”

I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt. “Of course, I will.”