“That first time, the prospect of crawling into a car with a stranger had seemed less foolhardy—probably because Nate was barely fifteen then, and because in his family’s contained Cleveland suburb there was little risk of being picked up by anyone he didn’t already know. And because that time he didn’t have an infant Trevor on his hip and a paint-slopped stolen masterpiece in his bag. That time, on the side of the Ohio road, Nate had only Charlie with him. Both boys were out of school on Thanks...giving break and had spent the afternoon swimming laps in the chemically fried waters of the town’s indoor pool. The exercise was dim and monotonous, back and forth from one side of the pool to the other, crawl stroke and butterfly and the embarrassingly named breaststroke, so much bodily exertion that got a boy nowhere except back where he started. After an hour in the water, Nate and Charlie dried off and waited outside the Y’s front entrance, a few minutes early for their pickup. “Towel dry your hair after you swim,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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