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And for the first time in my life, I wish I could paint, because the view from down here is something else.

The sun catches the brown in her hair and turns parts of it almost gold. Her cheeks are pink from the ride, and that huge smile is still there as she looks out over the water.

Alive.

That’s the only word that comes to mind.

“Like it?”

I climb up after her, bringing the bags with me.

“Jude, this is incredible.”

The inside is smaller than I remember. Or maybe I’m just bigger.

The walls are covered in years of our stupidity. Scratched initials, old drawings, dates and a crooked shelf our dads helped us put up after we nearly destroyed the wall trying to do it ourselves.

Nora walks slowly around the space, taking everything in, while I spread the blanket near the open side overlooking the lake and start pulling food from the bags.

“Oh God.”

I look up to find her staring at the wall. There’s a badly carved horse with four uneven legs and something that might be a tail.

“What is that?”

“Blackjack.”

She turns to me. “No.”

“Yep.”

“Who drew it?”

“D.”

She bursts out laughing, and I stare at her for a moment, struck by the fact that she’s laughing at something Damiano did, and for once, the laughter isn’t immediately followed by tears.

“He was terrible!”

“Worst artist I’ve ever met.”

“He used to draw hearts on my notes.” She shakes her head, still laughing. “They looked like asses.”

“Sounds about right.”

She runs her fingers over the horse while I sit down on the blanket.

“He tried jumping off the roof once.”

Her head whips around. “What?”

“Thought the rope would reach.”

“Oh my God.”

“It didn’t.”

“What happened?”