Only a couple of other people were out on the track this afternoon. The moment of wistfulness came and went, just like it always did when Delilah saw people running. The feeling didn’t stick around as long as it used to, though.

She’d thought she’d miss playing, and she did, sometimes. She’d shattered her knee when she fell. The doctors had told her she might be able to get rid of the cane after her next surgery, but she’d probably be stuck with a limp for the rest of her life. Her father had cried when he heard the news, but honestly, Delilah had felt a little relieved.

No more running drills before the sun came up. No more staking her entire life on the outcome of some game.

It made her feel even worse when she remembered Lily, though. All the times Delilah had carelessly called for her to join their group at the top of the stairs. The jokes she’d made about her getting into college because of affirmative action.

Delilah’s new therapist said she’d done those things because she had problems with empathy. So Delilah was working on that. On empathy.

She sat on a bench and waited for Mateo to lap back around to her side of the track. It didn’t take long. He saw her, did a double take, and looked over his shoulder. Then he slowed, eyeing Delilah warily.

Mateo was always jumpy. That was a recent development, too.

Other than that, he looked the same as ever. His eardrum had burst when the lightning hit him, but it had healed eventually. The only way you could tell anything had happened now was if you saw the flower-shaped burn scar on his palm. That was where the lightning bolt had passed through him and into Maria.

Delilah held up the invitation to the memorial as he jogged toward her.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m guessing you got one of these too?”

Mateo barely glanced at it. “Yeah.” He wiped his forehead with the hem of his T-shirt. Sweat dripped down his chest. At the beginning of the school year, when Mateo and Delilah still used to hang out, Delilah’s roommate had once watched him get up from their dining hall table to dump his tray and sighed, I’d kill to meet a straight guy who looks half as good as that man. Delilah had tried to laugh, but it turned out she couldn’t deal with jokes about killing anymore.

“Are you going?” Delilah asked. “I can give you a ride down to Lennox.”

“Nope.” Mateo grabbed a water bottle from the six-pack on the bench and unscrewed the cap. “Got a meet in Atlanta that weekend.”

“Would you go if you didn’t have a meet?”