“Surprised is more like it. You go through that file yet?”

I shook my head again. He didn’t press. I noticed the hair on his legs rubbing against mine. He was wearing a pair of orange-and-blue Hawaiian-style swim trunks. I’d never really gotten a look at his legs before. They were warm and brown and muscular. And now they were scarred, too, but the scars didn’t make them look bad. He had a towel draped over his shoulders and was wearing his sunglasses.

“You ready to go in?”

I stood, picking up my bag, which had a beach towel and some sunscreen jammed into it. The towel was old—pink and frilly. It had been a while since I’d last gone swimming. My swimsuit was just as pink and frilly . . . and small. Or maybe it just felt small because I was in public. With Chris Martinez. And a lot of exposed skin.

I followed him into the center and waited while he paid our admission. I could smell the chlorine on the air, and for a minute it was almost as if we were on vacation, or maybe just relaxing for a day. God, I could use a day of relaxation. It felt like it had been forever since I’d had one. Would my life ever have another relaxing day? Had it ever had one? Mom was murdered when I was so young—how do you relax after that? The thought made me unreasonably tired.

“Let’s go out to the pool,” Chris said, “but keep your eyes open.”

I quickened my pace to catch up with him. “What am I looking for?”

“Someone familiar, I guess.”

I pulled his shirt until he stopped. “I never saw the guy.”

He let that sink in for a moment. “Right. Look for him anyway.” We kept walking, peering into every party room and locker area and weaving through the gym slowly, pointedly. A group of guys were playing basketball on the inside court, and Chris stopped and studied them for a while, absently rubbing the back of his head. Thinking. Trying to remember.

I stared at the guys, unable to decide if any of them looked like a Heriberto to me. It was hopeless.

A few minutes passed; then Chris shook his head and continued walking. After poking our heads into a custodian closet and a restroom, we finally found ourselves outside.

School was in session, so there was hardly anyone in the pool. A few little kids splashed around in the shallow end, their mothers sprawled out on towels nearby. A bored-looking lifeguard stared off into space. I elbowed Chris and pointed up to the guard, raising my eyebrows in a silent question.

He gazed at the guard and then shook his head. “Nothing.”