Chapter 4Days went by. There were no quakes, no signs of Milo. Suddenly, I knew what that expression about pins and needles was all about. And these were big-ass pins and massive needles, all jabbing relentlessly into my very soul—yes, see drama queen, as previously mentioned.
When we did finally have a quake, wouldn’t you know it, I wasn’t at home. I ran to the nearest bathroom and stared into the mirror, just in case, but even I knew it would be hopeless; the mirror back home was the conduit, the portal, our portal.
More days passed. I was bereft.
“What’s wrong, dude?” Craig asked as he sat on my bed and played on his iPad. “You’re, you know, lackluster. Like the gay’s been sucked clean away.”
“That’s a visual.”
He thought about it for a moment, then shuddered. “Sorry. My bad. Still
