Before You Go by James Preller

the older boy who cast a sad shadow, Zoe the gangly girl who once played inside his house, munching on fresh-baked cookies: strangers now.
    Each year, on the anniversary of Lily’s birthday, Mrs. Buchman left a basket of flowers on the front stoop. Pale yellow lilies of the valley, of course, always with a short, handwritten note attached. This year was no different. Jude almost tripped on them on his way out the door to Corey’s. “Jesus Christ!” he muttered, and angrily kicked at the flowers. The basket crashed against the front door, the delicate petals in disarray, scattered on the ground.
    His mother must have heard the noise, for she came to the door. They stared at each other through the window, Jude standing there, trembling with a rage he couldn’t name; his mother’s lips set in a frown, her eyes turned down to look at the mess of flowers on ground. Click. She started to push open the door, but Jude pressed his hand against it. “Don’t,” he said. “Please, Mom. I’ve got it.”
    He bent to his knees and one by one assembled the fallen flowers, painstakingly arranged them back in the basket. He picked up the card. It was plain and blue and read, “ Our thoughts are with you on this difficult day .”
    *   *   *
    Jude didn’t have to say anything. Not to Corey. Because Corey knew. One look at Jude and he knew. Corey had that gift. And he said exactly the right thing: “Let’s go whack some frakkin’ golf balls.” So they grabbed Corey’s clubs and headed out together on foot, Corey talking nonstop while Jude’s thundering heart slowly returned to normal and he could breathe again.
    “So when am I going to meet this Becka babe?” Corey asked.
    “I don’t know if she’s ready for you,” Jude said.
    Corey nodded thoughtfully. “All my manly manliness might be too much, huh? I can see that. Seriously, Jude—you’ve got to step up. How long are you going to like this girl without making a move?”
    Jude didn’t answer. He grabbed a golf ball from the bucket and set it on the tee. The two friends stood in an empty soccer field behind a nearby elementary school, a perfect spot for banging around golf balls. Nobody to bean in the head, no grandmas sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from their noses.
    “You should invite her out with us sometime,” Corey suggested. “We could double-date, catch a movie or something.”
    “‘Double-date’?” Jude stepped away from the tee. Corey did not currently have a girlfriend, though different girls always seemed to set their sights on him. “What are you going to do? Go out and buy an inflatable doll?”
    “Oh, big laugh,” Corey replied. “Come on, dude. This Becka hotness must have a friend for me. See what you can do.”
    Jude shanked the ball to the right, tossed his driver to the ground. “I so suck at this sport,” he complained.
    “You’re collapsing your right side,” Corey pointed out. “You can’t attack the ball like a Viking with a battle axe. It’s got to be one smooth motion. Watch and learn, my friend.” Corey set up a new ball on the tee and drove a long, arcing shot into the center distance.
    Jude wasn’t interested. “Whatever we do, let’s not take ’em golfing.” Even so, he was warming to the idea. Maybe it would work, take the pressure off, keep it loose. “I wouldn’t call it a date , though, you know? It would be just hanging out.”
    “With benefits,” Corey said.
    Jude rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure about a movie, either. You can’t talk to each other in a crowded theater. If you do, people throw Milk Duds at your head.” This time Jude hit a beautiful ball, high and far. Corey, now seated cross-legged on the grass, whistled in appreciation.
    “Three words, Jude.”
    “Yeah, and? What are they?”
    “Make-out session.”
    “Oh, please,” Jude said. “You’ll be lucky if I can find a date for you.”
    “How about bowling?” Corey suggested. “We could do the Rock ’n’ Bowl at