He was not the one at fault.

The sun was sinking in the west, dusk folding into the oncoming night. Suddenly, the outdoor lights flickered on, flooding the sprawling backyard pool behind the villa with brightness as stark as day.

“Everyone quiet down! Our friend has something to say! I want everyone’s full attention, or you’re out of the party—don’t test me!” Bob Lowe snapped off the booming stereo with a flick of his wrist, silencing the throbbing music and pressing down the uproar with an authoritative gesture.

Instantly, the hundred or so party guests clustered around the pool fell silent, their eyes turning to a stiff, diminutive figure standing atop a lounge chair.

All waited, expectant, for him to speak.

“Rust, it’s your turn—say it boldly, don’t be afraid, I’ve got your back!” Bob shot the boy an encouraging glance.

The boy took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the faces below—black, white, and Asian alike. Most eyes glittered with ridicule, just as they had for years; no one took this fringe nobody, this invisible outcast, seriously.

Yet, perhaps the effects of his earlier drinking still lingered, warmth coursed through him, and flashes of the childish yet meaningful detective games he’d shared with Dean in recent days darted through his mind. A courage he’d never known rushed in, filling every sinew.

Rust realized it wasn’t such a big deal after all.

After all.

I am not afraid.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Rust Spencer, eleventh grade…” Cold, excitement, and fear tangled together, making