Our feet detonate the beach—sand exploding up our legs, excavating shells and sea glass. Sea glass, jade and vermillion and cobalt, shimmering like fallen stars.

Our bodies propelling forward, hurtling, we run faster, faster, and for a moment our saw-toothed four-person line barely touches ground. We blast through the night like one-person rockets; erupting, flying straight into space, where time can’t hurt us.

Bri goes down first, crashing into Q’s legs, the two of them collapsing in laughter.

Autumn tries to hip-check me, but I keep my balance, my toes sinking into more seaweed than sand. “Cheater!” I call after her. She slows enough to look back at me, her face catching moonlight, and she’s cracking up so hard I don’t know how she’s still running. I pick up my pace and now she’s barely ahead.

“How do you like your dust,” she calls over. “Medium rare?” But before I can answer she starts to pull away, grinning, her legs and arms and heart finding another gear I can’t compete with.

I try to ignore the shells biting the bottom of my feet.

My burning calves.

But I’m no match for her. Autumn slaps the water before I reach the shoal, her hands raised in victory.

“You’re . . . fast,” I say, huffing, my hands on my knees.

“Yeah. Plus, you’re slow,” she says, scooping water and flinging it at me.

Except the second the water hits my face, I’m right back there. Back to that night. What wouldn’t I have given in exchange for the two of us walking out of those waves together? But instead, each small paddle a struggle, each thrust slipping Q’s face below the surface, again and again.

And it hits me. No, this isn’t the same spot. Or even the same beach. But this is the same water. These are the same waves that claimed Q’s life, changed everything forever, and it’s too much. It’s all too much. We’ve gotta go. We should go.

Another mini wave hits my face, snapping me from my thoughts. “You suffer defeat awfully well,” Autumn says, her hands already delivering another watery assault. But I don’t make a move back. “Hey, you okay?”

I’m the exact opposite of okay.

But this isn’t about you, Jamal. This is about what’s best for Q. So what, you have to stomach a secret you’d rather not keep? That’s nothing compared to what Q and Ms. B are going through. You can’t tell him. You can’t.

“You still here, J?”

“Yeah, no. I’m sorry. Just . . . something popped in my . . .”

“It’s weird being in the water, huh,” she says. “After what happened.”

“Yeah, I think even more than I thought.”

“Well, it’s a nice thing you’re doing. For your friend.”

“I want to do more.”