Though there's no shortage of stories about kidnapped teens (going all the way back to Robert Louis Stevenson), molestation of the victim, and its aftermath, have seldom if ever been dealt with, especially not in a novel for children. Atkins here treats the more lurid aspects of the story delicately and carefully, and reserves the hard-hitting realism for Jeff's emotional state after his return, which she handles without a misstep or false moment, though the absence of a therapist seems odd.

The major characters, especially Jeff's father, little brother, and best friend, are three-dimensional, each with failings to match his strength and patience. But in the end it is Jeff whose feelings ring truest. Though the climax of the book comes near the end, when Jeff finally begins to talk to his father, the most powerful moment in the story comes much earlier, when his little brother Brian nags him into playing a game, and Jeff resurrects a nasty version of Staredown that Ray would force him to play. As Jeff sits on the sofa, filled with self-loathing, the horror and empathy his siblings feel over what he has endured is shown clearly when a shaken and tearful Brian immediately apologizes for making him remember it. Moments like that make this book hard to put down -- and hard to forget.

From the Book:
"Okay," I said, "Let's go. The first one to break the stare gets slapped."

"That's not how you play," Brian protested weakly, a nervous smile flickering across his lips.

I nodded. "Right. But see, that's how Ray plays. If you break the stare, you get slapped. You get slapped every time you look away from him, so the only way to win is never to look away ..."

Brian was crying now, cringing, his arms trembling as he tried to keep them by his sides to avoid touching me. The tension drained out of me and I felt weak again, weak and so disgusted with myself I wanted to die.