Josh, a genius of optimism, had no talent for despair. How could he have? When Josh had been a kid his own father would lift him to the ceiling and goof: 'Nothing bad can happen to a Superboy.' He'd lived happily, he was coveted and appealing, he entertained, but Josh's imagination was limited. It didn't stretch far enough, that rickety bridge, to lead him to the unfamiliar. And yet, sitting in the cafeteria - he pictured Zack's funeral: shiny brown coffin, yellow bulldozer, sinister hole in the earth .... He imagined shovelling the dirt himself, everyone super-quiet, the only noises the earth scattering on the polished lid. And the crying, Josh even guessed how a baby's death might feel - an eternity of never being able to talk.