He was staring impassively ahead, both feet planted on the floor, hands resting loosely on his thighs. As I rushed down a hallway at the school, I noticed a boy sitting outside the library, waiting-it had to be him. The afternoon of our first interview, I was running late.

I knew nothing about Cole before meeting him he was just a name on a list of boys at a private school outside Boston who had volunteered to talk with me (or perhaps had had their arm twisted a bit by a counselor).