My mom replaced the picture in the box and shut the lid, then walked to the truck. She removed the box from last year, tucking it under her arm, and reverently set the new one in the passenger seat, where it would sit for a year. I wondered what my mom would put in a box like that for me. What things she would choose to highlight in my life. I wasn’t sure she knew me as well as she knew my brother.

To end our ceremony, she exited the truck and placed a single hand on the hood. “You will forever be remembered and forever be missed.”

My dad nodded his head toward the bag I clutched. “Did you have something to add, Hadley?”

“Oh. No. I’m good.” I quickly touched the hood, then took two steps back.

My dad patted the hood as well. “We miss you, kid.” Then with a few quick steps he was back in the cab, turning off the ignition.

My mom hugged me, tears in her eyes. Then she pulled away and retreated into the house. Probably to make our annual meal—Eric’s favorite.

Back in my room, I clicked on my music, dug the Hot Tamales out of the bag and stared at the picture of the sunglassed flame speeding across the front of the box. I had never actually tried them before even though my mom had bought them over the years. When I was a kid I had declared my own favorite candy—Twix—and insisted she buy me that every time she bought Hot Tamales. And maybe it had become a habit, but I still hadn’t tried them.

I opened the box, poured a handful into my palm, and popped them into my mouth. Ten seconds later I was in the bathroom, scooping water into my mouth. I patted my stinging lips with a towel and dropped the rest of the box in the bathroom trash. It gave a loud clunk as it hit the bottom. Gross.

I wiped my eyes—the heat from the candy producing the first tears of the day, proving my tear ducts were in functioning order. So it was just my heart that wasn’t working right. Shouldn’t I have felt something, anything, out by that truck today? I sighed.

I took a long, extra hot shower, then pulled on some shorts and a tee. My shoulders gave a dull ache, reminding me of my last race. My computer was open on my desk and I stared at it for a moment before I sat down and powered it on. From friends posting online, I had seen a few pictures of the guy in the mask showing up at events before. But I had never cared enough to care. Never really looked into his accounts.