What were you guys doing out here?” I asked.

“Ben wanted to paddle into Schooner Creek,” Shelton said, then hitched the bag on his shoulders. “There’s an old canoe on the other side of the island we sometimes use. Morris is surrounded by sandbars, and we found one that just has crabs. They’re even out during the day.”

“They’re hilarious.” Hi made claw-hands and began scuttling sideways. “Killer dance moves, too. Popping fresh. We were going to toss them some scraps and watch the little buggers scamper in circles like drunks. That’s what’s in the bags. Plus the usual stuff.”

“The usual stuff?” I asked.

“Oh, right.” Ben spun and jogged twenty yards down the beach. He scooped something up, then turned and fired it toward us. I had a second’s warning before a Frisbee sliced the air an inch above my head. I ducked as it skidded to a stop a few yards away.

“Sorry!” Ben shouted. He trotted back to us, face scarlet. “I was aiming for Hi. Got away from me.”

“Because you have terrible form.” Hi began digging in his bag. “I’ve got beef jerky in here if you want some, Tory. I found it in the back of my pantry.”

Yuck. My palms rose. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

“What were you doing out here?” Shelton asked me. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Running.” I waved a hand at the natural beauty surrounding us. “I wanted to get a feel for the place.”

“Running?” Hi halted the process of straw-stabbing a Capri Sun, fixed me with a blank stare. “Like, for fun? Seriously? Why would you do that?”

“Health. Exercise. Call me crazy.”

“Thank you, I will.” Hi punctured the juice pouch, shaking his head the whole time. “I only run if chased. Even then, I’m only going hard enough to outrun the next-slowest person.”

“Who could you outrun?” Ben taunted. “No preschoolers out here.”

“First off, don’t sleep, some preschoolers are pretty damn fast.” Hi took a moment to suck the tiny straw of his drink. “Second, I’ve never allowed you to witness my top speed. It’s cheetah-like, I assure you.”

Shelton snorted. “Didn’t you finish dead last in the mile run this year?”

“I’d never let school officials see my true athletic ability,” Hi scoffed, indignant. “They’d make me play quarterback, and the girls would never leave me alone.”

“Right. Girls.” Shelton jabbed a thumb at his friend. “Says the guy with a backpack full of toddler snacks.”

“Which his mom packed,” Ben added.

“Keep it up and I’ll chug these all myself,” Hi warned. “You can drink your sarcasm.”

Ignoring the threat, Ben reached into Hi’s bag and snagged a pouch. Shyly, he handed it to me. Surprised, I nearly fumbled it as Ben dug another out for himself.

A silent moment as we sucked down fruit juice meant for eight-year-olds. When we finished, I got the sense that no one knew what to do next. The turtle crisis had been resolved. Now it was just the four of us, standing on the beach, trying not to stare at each other.

Should I ask to go with them? To the canoe? Or should I just go home?

“Do you want to come with us?” Ben blurted awkwardly.

“Oh!” Pretending that wasn’t exactly what I’d been thinking. “Sure. I mean, if there’s room. And you want me to. As long as we have enough Capri Suns, of course.”

“No. I mean yes. You should come. If you want.” Red-faced again, Ben went to retrieve the Frisbee.

“Real nice, Benny.” Hi shook his head with mock disgust. “You just ruined Manly Men Canoe Day. Now we’ll have to talk about our feelings. Discuss body issues. Have a good cry.”

My mouth dropped open to protest, but I could see the twinkle in Hiram’s eye. He was joking, maybe even testing me. So I fired back. “Personally, I was hoping for an armpit-farting contest. Then we could wrestle for a while. See who can say ‘bro’ the most.”

Hi clapped with delight. “Cool, bro.”

Shelton shoved Hi sideways. “Can you not be an idiot for five minutes? We just met this girl! She’s gonna hide from us in her room for the rest of high school.”

“You don’t understand the art of conversation,” Hi responded primly, collecting our empties and zipping up his bag. “This is called ‘breaking the ice.’ But you’re right. We should let Ben do the talking. The man is a wordsmith.”

Ben scowled. Dropped his bag to the sand. The hand with the Frisbee rose.

“Don’t even think about it!” Hi backpedaled, waggling a finger. “I’ve got a face-modeling appointment tomorrow!” But he clearly doubted his own powers of persuasion, for Hi whirled and fled down the beach.

Ben pivoted sideways, dropping into an easy crouch.

“There’s a crosswind,” Shelton noted, casually scratching above his temple. “Coming in off the water. And he really is faster than you’d think.”

“Got it.” Ben squinted into the dazzling sunlight. Exhaled. Then he fired the Frisbee hard and low. The disc dipped at first, skimming through the air mere inches above the ground before rising swiftly to strike Hi between the shoulder blades.

Hi dropped as if gun shot. “My gallbladder!” he groaned, lying facedown in the sand.

Ben clicked his tongue. Straightened with the ghost of a smile.

Shelton golf-clapped. “Very nice. Much better than your first toss.”

Ben flinched, shot me a guilty look.

I waved his unspoken apology away. “No harm, no foul.”

We walked over to where Hi was still sprawled on his stomach. As we approached, he sprang to his feet, Frisbee in hand. “Now who’s the one who’s the one in charge!?!” he cried triumphantly.

“Hey, Hiram . . .” Shelton held up his palms, but it was too late.

Hi flicked his wrist, and the Frisbee zoomed straight for us. I ducked, but didn’t need to. The disc took a sharp left turn, caught an updraft, rose, and sailed impossibly far inland.

“Oops,” Hi said, shielding his eyes. We watched the plastic circle cross the face of the sun like an eclipse before disappearing beyond the dunes.

“Nice work,” Ben said dryly. “That probably landed downtown.”

“You chuck wagon!” Shelton snatched off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. “That was an official Ultimate Frisbee disc. Now it’s gone with the wind.”

“Too much power, I guess.” Hi shrugged an apology. “I am incredibly strong. We can all agree on that point.”

I snorted. This kid. “I’m sure we can track it down, right?”

Ben frowned. “I think it landed near the sandhills. That’s rocky ground, without a good path. We usually cut across this field from here, and avoid the cliffs altogether.”

“You haven’t explored that area yet?” Without knowing why, I phrased my next words as a challenge. “Too scary? Or do you not think we can find the disc?”

Ben didn’t miss my tone, or back down. “Let’s go.” He strode into the line of dunes, headed for the island’s grassy interior.

“Great,” Shelton muttered. “Gonna get my shoes all dirty.” But he followed Ben.

“Guys!” Hi cupped his hands to his mouth. “It’s just a Frisbee. What if there’s a bog monster? Or Sasquatch?” When neither boy stopped, he shook his head. Then he winked at me, firing another shooter. “Pro tip: If you challenge Ben to do something—anything—he’s going to do it. We’ll be looking for that damn Frisbee all day now.”

“My bad.”

Inwardly, I smiled. I’m the same way.

I followed Hi up a crumbling pile of sand. “Careful,” he warned, skirting a stand of tall, reedy plants with cottony white balls on their tops. “Those cattails are federally protected. We’re really not supposed to walk on these dunes at all, but . . .”

He shrugged, stepping carefully around the stalks, working his way down the dune’s back side. Ben was standing a dozen yards ahead, gazing intently at the rolling grassland.

Hi was right. Ben looked determined to find the Frisbee. Beside him, Shelton began pointing northward, toward a clump of steep, thorny hills.

“What’s that way?” I asked, as Hiram and I joined them.

“Cliffs.” Ben was still scanning the high grass for a hint of blue. “The tip of Morris Island drops straight down to the water. We don’t ever go there, because there’s no beach.”

“You can’t even walk around.” Hi nodded toward the beach we’d just left. “The sand gives way to rocks about two hundred yards farther up. To reach the creekside beaches, you have to cut across this meadow. That’s all we usually do.”

“Freaking chiggers.” Shelton began aggressively scratching his shins. “We’re not even in the scrub yet, and I’m already itchy.”

“The disc must be over there.” Ben was staring at a wild tangle of bushes beneath the sandhills.

“In the waist-high grass?” Shelton’s lips twisted into a frown. “Why even look? Unless we step on the thing, that Frisbee is gone.”

“Then let’s step on it.” Ben started into the field. With varying degrees of enthusiasm, we followed, fanning out in a loose line.

A part of me agreed with Shelton. The grass was impenetrable, and the four of us could only cover so much ground. But for some reason, I really wanted to be the one to find the Frisbee. The idea of not looking was unthinkable.

For the next five minutes we stumbled through the grasping plant life, searching for a needle in a haystack. I could hear Shelton griping. Hi wheezing as he wiped sweat from his brow. Only Ben remained quiet, never looking up as he stalked through the weeds, wholly intent on his mission.

The boys were so different from one another. One brash. One skittish. One quiet.

They looked nothing alike, and obviously came from different backgrounds.

A more unlikely trio I couldn’t imagine meeting.

Yet despite these contrasts—and their constant ragging on each other—these guys were clearly best friends. They had an easy way. Relaxed. Trusting. Their equilibrium only disturbed by some random bossy girl who’d dropped from the sky into their Saturday.

I sensed that, at core, they were the same.

That they valued what was inside more than out.

They remind me of . . . me.

At least, the me I want to be.

We reached the far end, where the high grass dropped away. A cluster of hills rose sharply, musty and overgrown, vine-covered slopes baking in the morning sun. There wasn’t a trail anywhere in sight.

“Welp,” Hi said, scratching his chest.

“Told you,” Shelton whined, but he looked disappointed.

Ben was twisting left and right, trying to decide where to search next, when Hi’s whistle shattered the quiet. He aimed both index fingers straight forward. “How about that! I win.”

Eyes narrowed, I peered in the indicated direction.

The Frisbee hung from a bush twenty yards ahead.

Shelton jogged over and freed the disc. “Hello, old friend.”

“Where do I collect my reward?” Hi asked politely.

Ben smirked, made a rude gesture. “Here you go, sir.”

I barked a laugh, but then something caught my eye. A slash of darkness in the otherwise lime-green hillside.

Curious, I strolled closer, dodging prickly vines for a better look.

Then I saw it. Goose bumps covered my arms.

“Um, you guys?”

Three sets of eyes found me.

I pointed to an inky black square in the weeds.

“What is that?”