Jongup shifts in his seat uncomfortably and turns to his friend, who sits statue-still in the seat beside the window.

"Junhong," Jongup says quietly, waiting for his friend to answer. But the other boy stares out the window silently.

Jongup sighs and leans back in his seat before he glances around. He sees all sorts of people. Some are big like his big brother. Some are bigger like his mom and dad. Some are small and wrinkly like his grandma. But no one is small like him or Junhong. Jongup feels a sense of satisfaction. He and Junhong are probably the only fourth graders on the entire bus.

Even though they're all different sizes, Jongup sees that the people all look the same. No one smiles. All their eyes look dull and sunken in. They look tired and sad. They look like Junhong.

The bus suddenly lurches forward a few feet and comes to an abrupt stop, and both Jongup and Junhong are thrown against the backs of the seats in front of them.

"Y'all better get those seat belts on," the bus driver calls from the front. Jongup peers over the seat in front of him toward the rear view mirror and gasps. He hadn't paid special attention to the driver when they timidly entered the bus, but he's sure the driver didn't have those yellow eyes that stare back at him now through the reflection. His pupils are vertical slits.

Jongup isn't given much time to ponder over this, being thrown back in his seat when the bus moves forward again. He looks down and sees that there are no seatbelts before he looks over at Junhong at the same time his friend turns to him, their eyes wide before they begin to giggle. The other passengers around them mumble complaints, but soon, nothing is heard but the sound of tires running over gravel, the low hum of the engine, and the occasional cough or clearing of a throat.

Jongup considers mentioning the bus driver's peculiar eyes to Junhong, but no one else seems to be making a fuss, so he decides not to either.

After some time, the bus finally comes to a stop. Jongup blinks his eyes open. He’s not sure when he had fallen asleep. He takes a look around the bus, and to his surprise, the rest of the people look just as disoriented as he feels. They’re all yawning or rubbing their eyes, as if they had all fallen asleep as well. The sun has already set and Jongup wonders if his parents are worried. He’s supposed to be home by 4 every afternoon, or 6 when he plays with Junhong.

Everyone steps out of the bus one by one, and when Jongup reaches the front, he casts a furtive glance over his shoulder toward the driver. His eyes look normal. They’re dark.

Once all the passengers are outside, the driver grins, exposing two rows of sharp teeth that look as if they’d been filed down to points.

“Now, remember,” he says slowly, enunciating each syllable, as if he were speaking to a group of small children, “y’all find what you need and come back here in 24 hours sharp. But don’t forget to lose something. A trade’s a trade, right? And remember, don’t touch the ice.”

His eyes are yellow again when he drives away.

Jongup looks at Junhong and that’s when he notices something’s off.

Junhong’s blond hair is a light shade of gray. His face is ashy like newspaper. His blue sweater is a darker shade of gray. Jongup surveys his surroundings quickly and sees that everything is gray. The sky and the ground and the buildings and the people, who all look just as confused as he is.

Junhong tugs at Jongup’s sleeve to get his attention and points at something. A few blocks down, there’s a pool of something blue and sparkly on the sidewalk, a stark contrast to the dreary, desolate city. It looks like it’s seeping out from between two buildings.

The two boys hurry over to it and discover that the puddle is ice, and it extends down into the alley, which seems to go on forever. Cold air seems to emanate from the alley, from the ice, and both boys shiver. Jongup squints when he notices that he doesn’t see the cracked sidewalk right beneath. It looks more like the frozen lake he had visited with his parents when he was younger, like it’s much deeper than the few inches it should be to reach the concrete. He can swear he sees things in the ice, blurred but still distinguishable. A set of keys. A sock. A TV remote. A hundred-dollar note. And farther down, he thinks he sees the outline of a person.

Jongup ignores the warning bells going off in his head and turns to Junhong.

“You think your mom is here?” he asks, his voice soft. He knows Junhong hates it when anyone brings up his mom, but Junhong hates him a little less because they’re friends.

“Yeah, she has to be,” Junhong replies. He sounds confident, but his hands are trembling. But there’s a determination in his eyes that Jongup hadn’t seen since they were beginning third grade, since before the accident. “The driver said we can find anything that we lost here. She’s here.”

Jongup nods before looking down at the ice. His eyes narrow. He was sure the edge of the ice was at least a few inches away, but now it was almost touching their sneakers. He takes a hold of Junhong’s arm and pulls him back away from the alley as the bus driver’s words echo in his mind.

“Don’t touch the ice,” Jongup repeats, mostly to himself.

He looks at Junhong, who stares back. His friend looks confused, almost as if he doesn’t know Jongup, but a second later, recognition settles in and Junhong flashes him a bright smile.

An uneasiness settles in Jongup’s stomach.

“So what are we losing when we find your mom?” Jongup asks cautiously. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to be careful now with his friend.

Junhong wrinkles his small nose as he thinks. He shoves a hand into his pocket and pulls out an assortment of superhero stickers, holding them out for Jongup to see before he answers, “Maybe we can lose my stickers! I like them a lot, but I need my mom. It’s okay to lose these.”

Junhong pauses for a moment, then says, “Thanks for coming with me, Jongup.”

Jongup nods and follows Junhong quietly when he walks down a street that he seemingly chose at random as he puts his stickers back in his pocket. Jongup tries, but he can’t shake the feeling of dread that seems to seep into him.

As they walk, they encounter several patches of glittering ice extending far into the depths of the city. Jongup sees others peering curiously down at the ice. He hears a man shout in excitement and sees him hold up a trophy triumphantly before running back to where the bus had stopped. He sees a woman weeping as she carries a small white dog and follows the excited man with the trophy. A few feet behind the woman is an old man like Jongup’s grandpa, but he has glasses and no hair on his head. He’s holding hands with a little girl who is just a little bit smaller than Jongup. She must be in third grade. She has curly red hair and freckles on her cheeks.

Jongup notices that Junhong has walked very far ahead and calls out to him, but Junhong doesn’t stop. He doesn’t turn around. Jongup begins to walk faster to catch up with his friend and yells louder. Some people even farther away than Junhong turn to look at Jongup, but Junhong does not. Jongup begins to run, and only when he places his hand on Junhong’s shoulder does his friend turn around. But there’s that look of confusion again, and this time, it lasts a few seconds before Junhong smiles.

“Oh, hey, Jongup,” Junhong says. “Where have you been? Let’s go find my mom. I think she’s close! Look at all those people who already found their lost things!”

Jongup nods hesitantly and notices they’re standing beside another patch of ice. He blinks. The edge of the ice is closer to him now, he’s sure of it. He notices something and crouches down to take a closer look. There’s a girl, not much older than him, suspended in the ice, reaching an arm up toward the surface. Her long, black hair floats around her hair messily and her eyes are wide. is open in a silent, eternal scream.

A chill runs through Jongup’s bones and he jumps back when he sees the ice has already crept so close that it covers the front of one of his sneakers. He shakes his foot to get the remaining bits off before he glances toward Junhong.

Junhong, who’s no longer looking at him.

Junhong, who came here to find something.

Junhong, who brought him here to be lost.