Amelia hooked her arm in mine and said, “I know you don’t do sugar, but I want hot chocolate.” We headed toward the concession carts that had become part of the scenery after bungee jumping off the bridge was taken over by Just Jump.

“When are you going to call Robert?” she asked.

“I should probably wait until we see Heath Hall come out. Maybe when he’s jumping. That way I can hear his voice and see Heath at the same time.”

She stopped, making us both stop. “Oh no. I want kettle corn instead.”

“Why?” But right as I said that, I saw why she’d changed her mind. Jackson stood in the hot chocolate line. Irritation surged through me. He was one of the reasons I swam so badly earlier. His need to hang out with my parents had distracted me. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that, though. I swallowed my irritation to prove I could ignore Jackson.

“No, it’s fine. You can still get hot chocolate.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. “Guess we can mark him off the Who Is Heath Hall list.”

“He was never on it.”

“He was my top suspect,” I said as a joke. He wasn’t my top, but he had entered my mind. He seemed like the right personality. The prankster type.

“Hi, Jackson,” she said when we arrived in line behind him.

“Amelia. Moore.”

“Why do you call me by my first name and Hadley by her last name?” I should’ve told Amelia we were ignoring him. But her question was one I was curious to know the answer to as well. I’d just assumed he called everyone by their last names, but hearing him greet us together like that made it stand out.

“Because Moore is a last-name kind of girl.” Somehow he made even that sound like a joke.

“What does that mean?” I asked. Apparently, I couldn’t ignore him.

“I know what he means,” Amelia said.

“You do?” I asked.

“In sports they generally refer to people by their last names. And you are the epitome of a sports girl.”

I looked back to Jackson to see if Amelia’s analysis was right.

“You are that,” he said, but that response didn’t really confirm her theory.

Amelia seemed to think it did and beamed. “See?”

He reached the front of the line and ordered three hot chocolates. Then he turned around and handed one to Amelia and one to me.

“Thank you, Jackson,” Amelia said, wrapping both hands around her cup.

I took the cup, not wanting to be rude. Maybe avoiding sugar didn’t matter anyway; the season was over. And even after all my sacrifices, it had ended poorly.

“Technically, Moore, you owe me, seeing as how I beat you in that swim competition at Sarah’s. But I’m not a sore winner, so this is my prize to you.”