The expression on Daryl’s face was so frightening, I could not erase it from my memory. That night, I decided to take a risk and sneak out to the porch. My mother had gone to bed early with a cold and I figured I could get away with it. I’m not sure what I was hoping for—maybe I thought I would find him there, but even if I did, I wasn’t sure what I would say.

Suddenly, I heard a noise, a scratching sound coming from the tree a few hundred feet from where I stood. I peeked over to Lavi and Daryl’s side, but all the lights were off. Slowly, I inched my way over to the tree. I have always been scared of the dark; noises are louder and shadows scarier when the sun goes down. I got as close as my nerves would allow and then jumped as an orange streak raced by.

A cat. The same cat that Lavi was playing with the first day we met. I walked behind the tree to see what he had been doing. It was mostly covered in dirt, but the cat had managed to unearth a corner of a plastic bag. I dug around with my fingers, feeling the soil embed under my nails. Then I pulled hard and out came the bag.

Inside was a small canister of red paint, a paintbrush, and a bright yellow thermos covered with little black footprints. A thermos that I recognized immediately . . . I’d been present during its purchase.

I brought it into my bedroom, threw it into a drawer, and asked myself what it was I really wanted to know. Later that night, when I held it in my hands, I realized how much I did not want it to be Lavi’s. But I didn’t want it to belong to Daryl, either, because not only did I want to believe in him, I needed to.

I could not stop thinking about him. I felt shaken and stupid and gloriously happy. I found myself searching the hall for his beat up brown leather jacket. I sat in Mr. West’s class, trying not to make it obvious that my eyes were glued to the big white clock on the wall. Somehow, I thought if I stared hard enough, I could make the light blue minute hand move faster. I knew which days I needed to pack up quickly and when I could take my time because I had memorized his schedule and knew exactly which corner he would be turning and when. It happened rarely, but if I miscalculated and missed—which happened rarely—I felt this sinking feeling in my stomach.