2: Fireworks

Behind Adam's house, there was nothing but thick, untamed forest. To most kids, the woods might have seemed intimidating, but to Joey and Adam, it was their playground. Deep within those trees, there was a clearing—wide and spacious with nothing but open sky above. It was far from any houses or businesses, making it the perfect place for what they had planned.

Using the shortcut through the forest that they'd taken earlier, the walk to the clearing was about thirty minutes. As they stepped into the woods, the sunlight barely broke through the canopy, the thick tree branches casting long shadows across the path. Joey had made sure to tuck the stolen Switch back into his pocket before they left. In his experience, something always happened—and it was better to be prepared.

Adam had remembered to grab a lighter from the kitchen before they left, holding it up proudly as they set off. "Imagine walking all the way there and realizing we couldn't even light the fireworks," he joked.

Joey laughed. "You're lucky you thought of it. I'd never let you live that down."

The trek was filled with their usual banter, but Joey couldn't help but fall quiet now and then. The forest had a way of doing that to him. He'd always liked being out in nature, and the calm of the woods reminded him why. The rustle of leaves in the wind, the occasional chirp of birds settling in for the night, and the crunch of their sneakers on the dirt path all felt oddly comforting.

When the boys reached the clearing, the sky was painted with deep blues and purples, the last remnants of daylight fading fast. The open space was exactly as they remembered it—flat, wide, and surrounded by towering trees. Joey took a deep breath of the cool evening air as Adam set down the duffel bag of fireworks.

Adam unzipped the bag and began laying the fireworks out in size order, meticulously arranging them like an artist preparing their tools. Joey watched for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"I could live out here," Joey said suddenly, glancing around the clearing. "In a cabin or something. Just me, the trees, and the stars."

Adam snorted, not even looking up from his task. "Yeah, right. You wouldn't last a week. You'd be begging to come back to the group home after a night without Wi-Fi."

Joey smirked but didn't let Adam's teasing deter him. "I'm serious. I'd have a little garden, maybe a dog. It'd be quiet. Peaceful."

Adam finally looked up, rolling his eyes. "Alright, Thoreau. Shut up and grab a firework."

Joey chuckled and crouched next to the bag, pulling out a small fountain firework. Adam had already grabbed a Roman candle, holding it like a sword as he marched toward the center of the clearing.

As the first stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, the boys started their grand show. Adam lit the first firework, the Roman candle spitting bright red and green sparks into the air. Joey whooped and clapped as the sparks faded, leaving behind the faint smell of smoke and sulfur.

"Not bad," Joey said, grinning. "But let's see how this one does."

He lit the fountain firework, stepping back quickly as it hissed and sputtered to life. Golden sparks shot into the air, crackling loudly before fading into the night. The clearing glowed in the light of the firework, the trees around them briefly illuminated before returning to shadow.

For the next hour, the boys worked their way through the bag, lighting everything from bottle rockets to sparklers. They laughed and cheered as each firework exploded into the sky, painting it with bursts of color. The clearing was alive with the sounds of crackling and popping, the air thick with the acrid smell of burned gunpowder.

Joey stood back and watched as Adam set up one of the bigger fireworks from the bag. "This one's gonna be loud," Adam warned, grinning as he lit the fuse.

The firework shot into the air with a piercing whistle before erupting in a massive burst of red and gold sparks. Joey threw his arms in the air, letting out a triumphant yell. "That was awesome!"

Adam laughed, wiping soot from his hands. "Told you it'd be good."

The clearing illuminated in shades of red and gold. Even as the sparks dissipated, the clearing still lit up with different lights: especially a piercing abundance of blue. Joey frowned, confused by the new lights. He glanced around wondering if Adam set off more fireworks but was met with Adam's wide-eyed look of fear. His gaze looked past Joey to the surrounding tree line.

Joey followed it to see dark, formless shadows stalking out of the trees. Backlit by the strobing blue lights, it looked like there were at least twenty moving toward the two boys. Believe it or not, it wasn't until one of the shadows flicked on a flashlight that Joey's stomach dropped. The light shone directly into the boys' eyes, Joey squinting hard against it. A strong voice shouted out, "Honolulu PD, do not move!"

Joey didn't have a chance to think before he heard Adam whispering to him, "Should we run?"

They were nowhere close to Adam's house and could easily get turned around running through the woods at night. Suddenly, Joey was hit with the realization that in all their "smart" thinking before heading to the clearing, they'd forgotten to bring flashlights. At this point, the forest was just a void of giant shadows. But none of that mattered to Joey. If there was any chance that he could get away, it was worth a shot.

Joey whispered back, "Get ready."

The strong voice ordered again, "Show your hands!"

The shadows closed in, flashlights bouncing across the trees and ground. Joey and Adam counted softly together, their voices almost trembling: "One... two... three!"

They bolted in opposite directions, their feet pounding against the forest floor. Joey's lungs burned as he pushed himself to run faster, the sound of voices and crashing foliage behind him urging him on. He stumbled over roots and branches, his arms flailing to keep balance in the pitch black. Somewhere in the chaos, he shouted back to Adam, "Split up!"

Adam's voice came faintly through the trees, "Got it! Good luck!"

With that, the two boys veered in different directions, vanishing into the night.

When Joey finally broke the tree line, he found himself on a random road. The chasing voices and footsteps had long fallen behind, so he stopped to catch his breath.

The road was flanked by forest on both sides, stretching out in either direction before curving around bends. Joey squinted into the darkness but couldn't see any road signs on this stretch. Not that it would've helped much—he'd have a hard time reading them in the faint moonlight.

The cool night air clung to his sweaty shirt, a relief at first, but Joey knew it wouldn't be long before the mosquitoes came for him. He glanced up and down the road again, weighing his options. From Adam's house, it was usually a forty-five-minute walk to the group home. But since he and Adam had walked thirty minutes away in the opposite direction—and Joey had blindly sprinted through the forest for at least twenty minutes—he had no idea where he was.

"Great," Joey muttered to himself. "I'm lost."

Briefly, he wondered if logic was his mortal enemy. All the brilliant plans they'd come up with and not one included a way to find their way back.

A rustling in the foliage behind him snapped Joey out of his thoughts. His heart rate spiked again, and without a second thought, he started moving. He picked the direction on his left, reasoning that either way, he'd eventually run into someone who could help.

As his sneakers slapped against the pavement, Joey sighed. Ms. Kwan was definitely going to kill him when he got home.

After what seemed like forever, Joey spotted the neon lights of a gas station in the distance. Hungry and thirsty, this was Joey's oasis. The pursuing cops had once again lost ground, which Joey's aching feet were thankful for as he trudged toward the bright green and red lights. The place was moderately busy, but Joey knew he'd still stand out—a nine-year-old in a disheveled state would be hard to miss.

Joey crouched behind a low wall made of wooden posts, spying for a good way to get inside without drawing too much attention. Then he spotted them—a young family. There were two kids, and the oldest looked like he could be about Joey's age. As the family left their car at the pump, Joey hurried across the parking lot, falling into stride behind them. He kept enough space so as not to weird them out but stayed close enough to look associated with them.

The family entered the store without any curious gazes, and as they went down the snack aisle, Joey slipped to the next aisle over, beelining for the men's restroom in the back. Once inside, he locked the door and exhaled a shaky breath. The mirror above the sink reflected his dirty face and the scratches on his arms. He used practically every paper towel in the dispenser trying to clean himself off as best as he could. Besides a few scrapes and dirt marks on his shorts, he didn't look too bad. There wasn't much he could do for his shirt; it needed to dry out, which wasn't going to happen while he wore it.

Once he felt confident enough, Joey crept out of the restroom and was immediately met with the worst thing he could've seen. A police officer was at the counter, conversing with the store clerk. Out front, a couple of police cruisers and annoyed-looking officers waited.

The clerk gestured toward the restrooms, and Joey's stomach dropped. He figured they were talking about him. Quickly glancing around, Joey spotted the rear exit of the store. Without a second thought, he moved toward it, ignoring the large sign warning of an alarm.

He pushed the door open, and a whirring alarm blared. Someone shouted, but Joey was already heading for the chain-link fence in the back.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he didn't stop to think. He gripped the metal links and scrambled up, the sharp edges scraping his hands as he hauled himself over. Dropping to the other side, he hit the ground with a resounding thud, his body collapsing on its right side as pain shot up his right leg. He winced hard as he hobbled to his feet. As he went to take a step, he found himself back on the ground, a face full of dirt.

Footsteps approached him, steady and deliberate, followed by an amused laugh. A man's voice spoke with a mix of familiarity and exasperation. "Joseph Thomas. Why am I not surprised?"

Joey glanced up, his stomach sinking. Standing over him was Officer Derek Kealoha, a cop Joey had more than a little history with. Kealoha crossed his arms, his flashlight angled down to illuminate Joey's scraped-up face.

Joey didn't bother to respond, knowing he'd messed up majorly this time. He stared at the ground, bracing himself for the scolding that was sure to come.

"Your ankle looks bad," Kealoha commented matter-of-factly, tilting his head toward Joey's swollen foot. Joey could tell it was already starting to puff up, the skin tightening uncomfortably against the pressure. "You better hope it's not broken."

Joey let out a frustrated sigh, still not saying anything. Kealoha shook his head and crouched down, gesturing toward the patrol cars on the other side of the fence. "Come on, kid. Let's get you up. You've got a lot of explaining to do."