He picked up a folded shirt from the top of the stack and shook it out. "It's part of me. Would you go to school without your hand?"

"I don't think that's a useful comparison."

He laughed as he dragged the blade across the silk screen. "So, this thing with you and Jack."

"Yeah?"

He lifted the screen and examined the print before he looked up. When he did, he had a small smile on his face. "Is it love?"

The question threw me. It didn't seem like a friend asking a friend. It felt more like Cole was defining boundaries. But maybe that was just my imagination.

I took a deep breath. "Um..." I twisted toward the counter where the T-shirts had been stacked, but they were all gone. I looked at the floor. My fingernails. The paint. Everywhere but his face. Why was I fumbling all of a sudden? "Um... Where'd that come from?" I finally lifted my gaze to meet his. Could I possibly have been any more fl.u.s.tered?

He raised an eyebrow and reached toward me. I flinched back before I realized he was reaching behind me, to where a second pile of shirts was stacked. At my reaction, he held his hands up in an innocent gesture, then pointed to the shirts. "The shirts, Nik. I'm getting a shirt."

"Right." I shook my head and made a noise that sounded like a nervous giggle. "So, um, why do you ask about ... me and Jack?" I couldn't bring myself to say the L-word.

He flattened the new shirt and then bladed another screen. "I don't know. It's just that the more time I spend with you, I don't know. I don't see it. You and him."

"You don't know him."

He shook his head and drew in a breath. "You know what? It's none of my business. You coming to the concert tomorrow night?"

"Where?"

"The Spur. It's already sold out."

"Well, then, no. I didn't buy a ticket."

He sighed. "Nik, you never need to buy a ticket. You could watch it from backstage if you want."

"Really?"

"Sure. It's no big deal."

"It is to me. My friends will be so jealous."

"You're only saying that to make me feel good."

"Shut up. You know how much people love you around here." I shook my head as I ran the paddle along my silk screen.

"Do you like me around here?"

I startled, and my hands fumbled with the paddle as my cheeks went pink. I didn't realize there was a fold on the shirt. "Oh c.r.a.p. Sorry, I messed this one up."

I held it up. It looked like Elvis's face had been cut in half and then put back together by Pica.s.so. I was about to toss it, but Cole grabbed it from me.

"No way. This one is going to be famous someday. Like that upside-down airplane stamp."

I laughed, relieved the awkward moment had pa.s.sed. He grabbed a Sharpie off one of the counters and quickly autographed the shirt. He was beaming at it like it was the coolest thing he'd ever seen.

"Cole, in case I haven't mentioned it, I appreciate you letting me tag along lately," I said.

He waved me away in response.

"No, really. Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you. I mean, it's sorta been a difficult week for me-"

"With Jack gone?"

"No. Well, yes, that too, but ... the man who was driving the car that killed my mom, he's on trial. And I'm trying not to watch, but it's everywhere. And everyone who knows me seems to think I want to talk about it, when really all I want to do is ignore it." I didn't know why I was telling Cole all of this. I hadn't even told Jules. "So ... thanks for the distraction."

Cole brought the shirt over and put it in my hands. "I like having you around," he said. "It's too bad football camp will be over so soon."

At the mention of football camp, I thought back to his short reply about Meredith, and for some reason I wondered if he was holding back. "That phone call from Meredith..."

He looked away. "What about it?"

There it was. Evasiveness. I could see it.

"Did she say anything about Jack?"

He didn't look at me. "Not that I can remember. Hey, the band is going to run the river this afternoon. You up for more distraction?"

I thought about pressing him, but why would he purposely hold something back? He'd probably think I was being paranoid, so I dropped it. "Are you sure they won't mind if I come?"

"No. Who doesn't want a fifth wheel? Although it would be better if you weighed a little bit more."

I grinned. "I'll eat a few cheeseburgers on the drive."

When I got to the upper banks of the Weber River, Cole and his bandmates were hoisting the raft off a large white van. They divvied up the life jackets, and then we were pushing away from the sh.o.r.eline.

I knew the river well. The rapids were bunched up at the end of the run, so for the first half, I tilted my head back and let the sun warm my face. The weather was at that point where if the wind wasn't blowing and the sun was shining, it was almost too warm. The first half went by fast.

An intense winter and a late spring runoff had left the river deeper than usual, and most of the tourist rafts bugged out at the West Table cutoff, as the brochures suggested. Before the rapids got too bad.

Experienced locals were known to gamble on the level-five rapids just after West Table, but never with the spring runoff we'd had.

Which is why I kind of freaked out when-a half hour later-Cole and Maxwell steered our little raft away from the West Table sh.o.r.e, the final exit point.

"Uh, guys, we should probably..." I pointed to the disappearing sh.o.r.eline and had a sudden panic attack. "If we all paddle backward-"

"Live a little," Maxwell said from his steering post at the back of the raft.

"There are serious rapids ahead." I waved my hand toward the approaching bend in the river. "And the canyon walls mean there are no banks."

"No way out, dude," the drummer-Gavin-said from near the front. "Sounds like a song."

Cole was behind me, and I clenched his arm. "Cole, listen to me. It's not a good idea." But what was he supposed to do? We were past the point of no return.

"Don't be scared." I couldn't explain the expression on his face. Like he was exhilarated by my fear. He looked away, a faint smile on his lips.

"Hey, Nik!" Maxwell jerked his head toward the front of the boat. "Is that what you meant?"

I turned to look. The Tube. The stretch of level-five rapids had gotten its name because of the smooth walls on either side of the river that made it impossible to stop. I'd been down the rapids once before. During a dry summer. There was a giant sharp rock in the middle that my uncle had deftly swerved around.

Today the water was so high, I couldn't see the rock.

"Stay to the side!" I shouted. "I know there's a rock in the middle."

But two eddies on either side of the river were forcing our boat toward the center.

"We'll be fine," Maxwell said.

"No, we won't!" I searched the rapids for an unnatural break in the water, hoping I could see the tip of the rock I knew was there somewhere.

Finally, I saw a black tip dividing the rushing waves. With a sinking feeling, I knew I'd spotted it too late.

"It's there!" I pointed.

We paddled backward as fast as we could, but it wasn't going to work. We weren't even slowing down. Boats never seem to be going very fast until you try to stop them. There was no way to avoid it. I squeezed my eyes shut.

The boat snagged, and we lurched forward. And then I was in the air.

Seconds seemed to pa.s.s as the mountains on either side of the canyon circled in my vision, the thin strip of blue sky swirling back and forth.

Then the water slammed into me.

FIFTEEN.

NOW.

My house, after the Shop-n-Go. Less than three months left.

When I got home that night, I took Cole's hair out of my pocket and put it in the drawer of my nightstand. Maybe someday I'd have the strength to use it.

Before I could think too much about what I saw at the Shop-n-Go, I heard a soft knock at my front door. When I opened it, there was Jules, standing on my porch, twisting the ends of her hair with her right hand. She was tired. Or stressed. The air around her tasted bitter and heavy.

"Hi, Becks." She hesitated. "Can we ... talk for a little while?"

"Of course. Come in." She looked nervous, which made me nervous.

Jules followed me down the hall to my bedroom, and then sat on the corner of my bed. I turned my chair around so I was facing her.

"We used to do this all the time," she said. "I practically lived here."

I smiled. "I remember."

She looked past me to my desk, where a framed picture of the two of us stood propped against the wall. Her eyes met mine, and she said, "You've lost a lot of weight. And you were small to begin with."

"I know."

Jules folded her arms. "Look, Becks. I told myself I wasn't going to bug you with accusations or questions or any of that stuff, but after today... I don't know. I just can't stay quiet anymore. What's going on with you?"

I grabbed a pencil off my desk and turned it over and over in my hand a few times, trying to figure out what I could say. "I don't know what to tell you, Jules. I was away for a while, but now I'm back and I'm not trying to hurt anyone-"

"Then what are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to get my life back," I blurted out, before I even thought about it. It was the truth, even though I hadn't let myself acknowledge it before. I took in a breath and leaned my head back against the chair. That niggling wish-the silent prayer that I could someday reclaim my life-was alive inside me even though I knew it was impossible. I shook my head, as if to chase away the rogue thought. "I can't talk about it anymore. I'm sorry."

She sighed and nodded. "Fine. I just think you should at least know about what happened here when you were gone."

"You mean with Jack?"

"Yeah."

I looked at the floor. "What about him?"

"It's tough to talk about, because it was so hard to watch. At first he went crazy trying to track you down. He was convinced you didn't run away, that somebody had taken you. He organized search parties. Dropped everything he cared about. Stopped eating." She paused and looked at me. "I'm sorry if this is hard to hear."

I hadn't realized I was clutching my stomach.

"Eventually, when it looked like you were never coming back, something in him just sorta died. He stopped talking, even to his friends."

I raised my gaze to see Jules shake her head. "This one time, in the cafeteria, Brent Paxton said something about you being a crackhead and Jack just flipped out. He threw Brent to the floor and started whaling on him. The princ.i.p.al had to pull him off. Jack got a two-week suspension. And Brent was his friend."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. You couldn't have known what it would do to him. But you know now."

Her words held an unspoken warning for me. Don't hurt him again. Jules was here as Jack's friend. Not mine.

"You were there for him," I said. It wasn't a question.

"Well, he kinda didn't give me a choice. I think he was clinging to anything that would bring him closer to you. He never gave up on you. And I was there to pick up the pieces." She leaned toward me. "He never got over you."

I craved those words, and yet dreaded them at the same time. Could he still love me, despite what he did in the past?

Jules walked over to my closet and started thumbing through my clothes. We always used to go through each other's closets, looking for new stuff to borrow. She paused at a purple T-shirt. "I thought that with you being back, things might turn around for him. At first, they did. But after that fight yesterday, and then the car accident... I'm not sure."

"I'll try to leave him alone. I'll stay away from him."