She shakes her head. “He’s done everything he can. She’s never coming back. We’ve known that for a long time.”

“So, when?”

Silence.

“When, Sarah?”

She wipes tears from her eyes. “He wants to leave next week, to get us settled in before school starts. I get to spend my senior year in a school full of strangers.”

I lower my head and stare at the porch. Tears stream down my cheeks and make tiny wet circles as they hit the concrete.

“I’m sorry, Zach,” she says. “I’m so sorry about all of this.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I look at her. “But maybe I did.”

She doesn’t respond.

We sit there for twenty minutes, holding each other close, each of us completely in the moment, making the most of every precious second.

September2

Chapter_28

28

There isn’t much more to tell.

True to his word, Dale Foster has the house packed up within days and the family flies to Boulder the following Sunday. Sarah comes by to see me twelve times during that seven-day stretch, but each visit grows increasingly bittersweet because we both know the end draws nearer every time we lay eyes on each other.

We never have a chance to be alone again, and we don’t even kiss during our last visit—not because our feelings have changed, but simply because it’s too painful knowing that kiss will be our last. We exchange a few half-hearted hugs and make all these promises about daily emails, texts, and IMs and all that, but I think deep down we both realize the distance will somehow take its toll.

Which I suppose is exactly what’s happening as I write this, because it’s been nearly three weeks since we’ve emailed or spoken to one another. There’s this constant, aching pit in my stomach that won’t go away, and it intensifies whenever I think about her, which is pretty much all the time. Mom says I’m experiencing my first broken heart and that eventually each day will get a little easier.

Whatever.

As for Tank, I haven’t seen or heard from my former best friend since the day he beat me up. True, Sarah said he felt horrible about what he did to me, but the idiot never bothered to say it to me in person. I mean, he had seven days to apologize, but he never did.

So, I say screw Tank Foster.

A confession: Actually, I have no clue how to express my feelings about Tank.