I grabbed a cart and threw some random things into it, because it would be weird to get in his line with nothing. A Gatorade. A box of cookies stacked in a display. An overpriced orange from an atrophied produce section the size of a bookcase. Then I realized that the more items I had, the longer I’d be able to talk to him, so I went down a few aisles, grabbing a cartful of unrelated items. Then I finally got in his line. Someone tried to call me over to an empty line, but I would not budge. I loaded my things onto the belt, and when the customer before me left, Leo began to ring my items up.

“Hi, Leo,” I said.

“Hello, sir,” he said absently and with a respect I didn’t deserve. He probably figured I knew his name from his name tag. He continued ringing things up. Baked beans, a bag of rice, peanut butter.

“Working here long?” I asked.

He glanced at me, but if he made eye contact, it was so brief I missed it. “Going on two years, now,” he said, and scanned the next item. It didn’t scan, so he entered the number by hand. Keep in mind, this was a guy who was looking at scholarships to any number of universities. I had been jealous of the opportunities he had ahead of him.

“How’s your sister?” I asked. “Still playing volleyball?”

He stopped in mid-scan. This time he looked at me. And the look on his face was suspicion, and maybe something a little bit worse. Something bitter that I couldn’t place.

“I’d rather not talk about my sister, if you don’t mind,” he said, then scanned my last item. “Did you find everything you need, sir?”

“What? Oh yeah, yeah, I found everything.” Which was true, since the only thing I was looking for was him. “You really don’t know who I am?” I asked, desperate for my best friend to at least have that brief moment of uncertainty like Katie and Hunter had. But he didn’t. Because he didn’t see me when he looked at me. He saw what I represented. What I stood for in this world.

“Oh, I know who you are,” he said coolly. “Everyone in this town knows the Bowmans.”

“We know each other more than that, Leo,” I said, grabbing his arm. “We do—you just don’t remember.”

He shook my arm off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—all I know is that there’s a line behind you, and people are getting impatient!”

“But your sister—”

“You don’t talk about my sister!” he said, his voice getting a little too loud. He looked around, maybe to see if his manager was watching. Then Leo leaned closer and spoke quietly.