I’m about to walk away when she calls my name, then runs over, hugs me, and whispers, “Thank you” in my ear.

She doesn’t let go for a long time, just snuggles into my shoulder, and if this wasn’t in the courtyard, I might enjoy it.

“Welcome back,” I say at last.

“Meet me at lunch,” she says. “Under the tree.”

Chapter 100

We were best friends…and then we weren’t.

Our friendship faded over time, the grief I felt hardening until no one could break through. By the time it softened, she was long gone. I used to blame Bernie for disappearing, but it wasn’t her fault. She was only a kid doing what her parents said.

When it first happened, she hugged me, because it was all she could do. And I never appreciated that. I got older and bitter and remembered her wrong. She wasn’t the best friend who ditched me.

I’m thinking all this as we sit under the tree until Bernie says, “I have to go to therapy now. Every Saturday, Mom and I have to talk about what happened.”

“What’s that like?”

“Shit.”

We smile at each other, and Bernie takes a deep breath and says, “I should have thanked you at the hospital. You saved my life.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You found me.”

I look into her eyes and try to remember what she was like when we were kids.

Before Mayfield, this wouldn’t have happened, but I know better now.

“Do you remember my mom?” I ask.

Bernie smiles and says, “Of course. She was beautiful.”

“I’m sorry if I was upset with you when we were kids. I wish we’d stayed in touch.”

Bernie’s face drops. “Me too. It wasn’t your fault. My mom was so desperate for a new life. When she married my stepdad, she forgot all about Doveton.”

We are quiet for a while, then Bernie says, “Remember that sleepover, with the pillow fort?”

It had started in my bedroom, the two of us under my duvet propped up with an umbrella. But it didn’t stop there. Mom followed us inside, said it wasn’t big enough, and pulled her duvet in too.

Then we were in the hallway, our silliness expanding as Dad brought the bedding from the spare room, then the sheets from the linen closet, all propped up by the wood he kept in the garage. We crawled from room to room, giggling in the glow from our flashlight, until we fell asleep.

The next morning, we found Mom and Dad cuddled up in a different part of the fort, and neither of us wanted to wake them.

I love Hanna and Emily, but we don’t have stories like that.

I started this without knowing where it would end. All I wanted was justice. But life is bigger than a single thought, no matter how much it consumes you.