1985

Since junior high, the boys had only referred to each other by the nicknames they had given themselves. It was a closed group with no other admissions. Ever. They were a family. Exclusive.

Ghost arrived before the others and sat on the floor with his back against the wall, waiting as the July sun melted behind the horizon. He wore a red tank top, naturally distressed jeans, and Converse sneakers. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag and held it. The others would be along soon.

Stretch...