The Streak

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We went streaking the night he slept over at my house. It was his idea. He enjoyed being rowdy, and naked. I thought I was his only friend in high school, so it was quite surprising when, after they found his body—at the sandpit miles from town, where they claimed he had been swimming and drinking, alone, in the middle of the night—the whole class dedicated the yearbook to his memory, expressing overwhelming love and sadness and shock at his passing. I don’t remember ever hearing anyone speak of him again after that. What was his name again?