"I'm not going," said my friend. He was sitting on the cold black bench we often came to, to hang out late at night. It was another one of those times; just us, the cold night air, empty roads, and rows of houses with the curtains drawn and the lights off.

"What do you mean you're not going?" I said, "Everybody our age has to go."

My teeth were chattering in the cold, my hands shoved into my big puffy coat pockets, my breath catching in little puffs of white in the air.

"It's some kind of trap. Trust me," said my friend, "If teenagers are blowing up all over the country the last thing they should do is group them all together."

"They said they've found a way to stop people from exploding," I said, "Didn't you see the news?"

"I've been watching it, yeah," said my friend. I couldn't see his face because he was sitting at the far end of the black bench.

"So what's the alternative?" I said, "Go on the run? It's the law now. Everybody has to go whether they like it or not."

"So why are we talking about it then?" said my friend, "It sounds like you've made your mind up on going. I'm not, I'll go on the run if I have to. No way I'm letting them group me up like that."

"And what if you blow up?" I said, "What if you die because you didn't do the right thing? If they have a way to stop us from dying we should do it."

"Maybe," said my friend, "I could agree with you if this wasn't the government rolling out this scheme and if they actually gave me a choice in the matter. But because it's compulsory, because they've removed my right to say no…it just doesn't feel right. Something is wrong about the whole thing."

"Like what?" I said, "What could the government possibly have to gain from this?"

My friend sighed and we both fell into silence. Then, after a few moments, he said, "I don't know. Look, we don't even really know if people really are blowing up."

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"Haven't you seen the footage?" I said, "There's hours of it online."

"It could be faked," my friend said.

"Oh yeah," I said, "Because it's so easy to fake footage of teenagers blowing up all over the world."

"Maybe it is," said my friend, "Do you know anyone personally who has died from blowing up?"

"You know I don't," I said, "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't take precautions."

"Look," said my friend, "It's like telling me I'm sick but I'm not. I have to trust my own eyes and ears and do what makes sense to me. In no way does being evacuated by government forces to who knows where sound to me like the solution to this blowing up problem. Maybe if I saw someone blow up with my own eyes I would see this whole thing differently, but until I do then I'm just going to do what is logical and makes sense to me. And that's not putting a single ounce of trust in the government."

"You're being an idiot," I said, "A super idiot. And you're making me responsible for you if you blow up, and this conversation was the only conversation you might have entertained where you might possibly have changed your mind. Won't you consider it just so we can go through it all together? If, like you say, there's some big evil government scheme going on then…shouldn't we face that together, man?"

My friend thought about this for a few moments. He started to anxiously chew the skin around one of his fingernails, a habit he'd started to avoid biting his nails.

"I could say the same thing to you," he said, "Come with me. We can hide out somewhere, wait until this all blows over. It could be fun. Our own adventure."

I shook my head, grinning without mirth. "You're crazy, man. I don't have more than three-hundred pounds in my bank account. And I've got to think about Mum and Dad and how worried they would be if I just disappeared. Even if I left a note they would be worried sick."

"So," said my friend, standing up fully, "You're telling me you're going to trust the government over me? Your best friend? Do you really think I would ask you to do anything if I thought it would be the wrong thing to do?"

"Whatever," I said, "I know you, man. You're not going to run away or do anything like that. You've never done anything like that in your life. Neither have I. You're going to get evacuated."

"I won't," he said, with that stubbornness that, at times, made me think he was one of the most resilient and strong-minded people I knew.

We spent the rest of the night walking the quiet streets talking about other things. School, TV, movies, whatever we could think of to avoid bringing up the evacuation topic again.

My friend disappeared without a trace a week before the Pied Piper's Return evacuation team reached Stowchester. I'd made my choice and he'd made his. Only time would tell which of us had made the right decision.