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For a while, they talked about nothing. Then, in a filmy haze of sleepy confidence, Blue said, “You still never told me why Nate’s an asshole.”

“What?! No!” Jackson said. “If I tell you, you’ll either not believe me or get mad at me.”

“Just tell me what you were gonna say.”

“Okay, well . . . for example, I’ll mention that I’m gonna hang out with you, and Nate says, ‘Oh, you’re hanging out with the homo?’ ”

Blue didn’t respond. He refrained from reacting beneath the weight of Jackson’s words.

“Mark? . . . Mark? . . . Blue.”

Blue’s arm covered his face. Real life was harsher than any video game.

“Blue . . . Mark.” Jackson took a deep breath. “Don’t worryyy. He still thinks you’re cool and everything. You’re still his friend. . . . Do you hate him now?”

Blue pondered this. Do I hate him? Do I still like him? If Blue wasn’t sure who Nate was anymore, how could he know how to feel about him? I am so conflicted. I just want someone to be there for me.

Jackson sighed again, impatient.

Blue made up his mind. “I’m sad now,” he whispered.

Jackson looked at Blue. “What? Fine. Do you want a hug or something? Here’s your chance.” Blue was unresponsive. “No? Okay, then don’t ask me ever again.”

At the end of winter break, Blue tried to turn to Jackson again. Tired of sitting around the house, Blue found him online at 5 A.M. and asked if he wanted to do something. Jackson needed to go to Best Buy, anyway. “Sure,” he said. “Just ask the others.”

Blue deflated. He called Ty and Stewart, who made excuses.

Blue gave up and passed time by watching Evangelion, an anime series. Blue had a theory about anime and manga. He believed that “secluded kids who indulge on anime and manga—the otakus—do it because it gives them an opportunity to feel emotions that they may not be able to feel through their own life. That hits very close to home to me, and I think you could apply that to anything: gamers, geeks, nerds, social outcasts. People outside of that culture don’t understand,” Blue said. “It’s just easier to call us losers.”

That night he called Jackson, who didn’t answer his phone. Blue tried again an hour later. Still no response. Blue went online. He found Jackson playing MW2 with Stewart. Blue messaged Jackson, “When do you want to go?”

“I’ll let you know,” Jackson said.

This always happens. Blue slammed his laptop shut. All anybody wants to do is play that stupid game now. When did it become such a homewrecker? He would try to organize outings to the beach, town, or pool hall, but his friends—even Ty—would reply, “I just want to play MW2.” “I’ll go if someone else goes.” Or, Blue’s favorite, “Can you get online? I don’t want to talk on the phone.”

Ty’s shaky “best-friend”ship essentially meant that he let Blue spend time with him at Ty’s convenience; Ty was often glued to Jackson anyway. Blue said, “They are conformist assholes, no backbone and no direction. They’re just empty shells to me. Why is it that these people are the ones with the most friends?”

BLUE’S CHALLENGE

Blue’s unhappiness made this an opportune time to spring his challenge on him. As I told all of the main characters, each of them had a different challenge, but their rules were the same: They could approach their task however they liked, though I was available as a sounding board; and they could not tell anyone at school about the challenge (Noah’s girlfriend was an exception because I sought her advice in devising his assignment).

Blue deeply wanted to connect with someone who would make him feel comfortable and cared for. He also was desperate to graduate so that he could start a new life on his own terms. I combined these goals by challenging Blue to switch to a “nerd”-like friend group. I hoped that he would fall in with people who appreciated him, and that in connecting with intelligent students who did well in school, he would also find the motivation to complete his assignments and the stability he craved.

When I told Blue about the challenge, he had trouble coming up with a group that he wanted to be a part of.