It will do me no good to pretend I am the bubbly book-loving person I once was. In a matter of days, I will wake up in my mom’s tiny house, as alone as a person can be without actually being by oneself. I will look at the pizza in the fridge and decide it is probably too old even for me and will order a new box. I will put away Jenna’s books I ruined, empty my mother’s ashtrays, and prepare to start the rest of my life.

I will go to Jenna’s college prep course. I will tread faithfully down the path put before me and I will be grateful for the privilege of it and I won’t care so much about what I study. I will listen to the battle cry of my heartbeat: I am I am I am.

But for now I will be my truest, most unadulterated new self. I am Jennaless and I am broken, but I still have my wits and a healthy dose of curiosity about Nolan Endsley, and I will guilelessly use both to see what he remembers about Jenna, or if he knows anything about the 101st edition I left tucked under my pillow in Valerie’s guest room. I will use every bit of charm in my arsenal to collect this piece of Jenna to store in the mausoleum of my heart.

What do I have to lose?

So, in lieu of coming up with a socially acceptable answer like I was watching the trees, or I was lost in thought, I tell him the truth.

“More like whale watching.”

Nolan Endsley doesn’t miss a beat, squinting hard at me and back up to the sky. “In the trees? Are they flying whales?”

“Sometimes,” I say. I am surprised but glad that he is joining in my game. “Most of the time I think of them swimming way out in the middle of the ocean.”

The wind rattles out another symphony of rustling leaves, accented with the staccato huffs of Wally’s heavy breathing. He’s skirted the trees to stand between Nolan and me.

Nolan and me.

“I come down here once a week and never have I imagined whales flying through the trees,” he says. His eyes are trained upward. “What kind of whales?”

I frown. “Usually they’re orcas, but today they are most definitely blue whales.”

“Did you know that orcas aren’t technically whales? They’re part of the dolphin family.” He’s still peering up, like he can really see what I see. He’s not smiling, not totally taken by my whimsy, but he’s not dismissing me, either.

“I did know,” I say. “You, on the other hand, have never seen the flying whales before.”

“And now I have,” Nolan says simply.

“And now you have,” I echo.