“Because I haven’t,” I say, “but I haven’t been looking as long as you.”
“No,” he says reluctantly. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I thought there might be something of... of hers on the bank, or in the woods. Maybe I could retrace her steps, or whatever. It was a dumb idea. I started at the park.” He runs his uninjured hand over his face, scowling now. “By the time I get back to my car it’ll be dark out.”
“I can drive you,” I say, jerking a thumb over my shoulder. “I parked at the gas station. Do your parents know you’re here?”
He scoffs. “No, they’d skin me.”
“Oh.” I withdraw a bit. I have trouble talking to boys and men, especially when they show strong negative emotions. I don’t know why. And it doesn’t get any better if I know them well. “Sorry.”
He softens—or at least I think he does, with the scar it’s hardto tell—and says, “What wereyoulooking for?”
“I don’t know either,” I say, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. “I guess I thought maybe the police missed something. Like you said, find something of hers, retrace her steps, reconstruct what happened.”
Ash nods, and we stand there in silence. The river rushes along, steel gray and unforgiving. There are no birds yet to fill the woods with song. We’re alone out here, and I’m getting cold. Ash must be freezing.
“I underestimated the weather,” I say. “Do you want a ride, or... ?”
“I’m not leaving until I finish looking,” he says, motioning past me. “This side of the river today, the other side tomorrow. The more time that goes by, the higher the chance any evidence will disappear forever.”
Two people looking is better than one. We might as well work together.
The next hour passes in companionable silence, both of us zigzagging to cover the most ground possible, coming back the way I already traveled but canvassing a much larger area. At one point Ash thinks he’s found something in the weeds, a bracelet Alissa always wore, but it’s an old piece of wire. When we reach the fisherman’s spot and the rocks, Ash stands looking over the water with the wire tangled in his fist. The wind blows strands of his hair across his forehead and into his eyes.
“Fine,” he says. “Let’s go.”
We trudge back to the gas station. Ash gets a burrito and buys one for me too, shoving it into my hands as he slides into the passenger seat of my car.
“I haven’t eaten all day,” he says. “It okay if I eat in here?”
“Sure,” I reply, even though he’s already taken a huge bite. I turn the engine on and crank the heat. I peel my burrito open and hold it in one hand as I turn out of the lot and onto the road. “How, um, how are you? Besides hungry?”
Ash glances sideways at me, eyebrows arched. “For real?”
“I don’t know. Aren’t I supposed to ask that?”
“Yeah, if you aren’t in the same boat.” He tears off a chunk of burrito. “When you’re in the same boat, you already know how I am, because you’re that way too.”
“She was my best friend. She wasyoursister.”
“You talked to her more than I did. Spent more time with her. She liked you better than she liked me.” Ash takes another bite. It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking with food in his mouth, which normally bugs me, but it doesn’t right now. “So yeah, same boat. How areyou?”
I shrug. “Cold, mostly.”
The burrito is nice and warm in my hand, though, so I take a bite. I haven’t eaten all day either, despite having plenty of chances. Melted cheese stretches out between the burrito and my mouth.
“Thanks for driving,” Ash says. “I thought I was going to miss the raid tonight, but I’ll actually make it now.”
“The raid?”
“CoH Online. My clan is doing a raid—a dungeon, sort of—tonight. They don’t need me around to complete it, but with Alissa...”
His voice fades away. He stares out the window, his burrito forgotten. I search for something to distract him.
“I didn’t know you played CoH Online too,” I say. “Have you been playing long?”
His focus comes back to me. “Only since... I dunno, almost a year.” He clears his throat. “I thought it would be hard to keep playing now that Alissa’s gone, but it’s been easier. I get to be somewhere else. I get to be someone else.” He goes quiet again, but not distant; his lips press together. I feel something building in him. His leg jumps. We pull into the park and I drive around until I find his car, on the opposite side of the parking lot from where I was earlier. If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed it.
“My mom and dad invited you to come to church with us on Sunday, didn’t they?” he asks.
