So I headed through the house to the front door, to take down my Jasper note, thinking that I couldn’t remember the last time he’d called me sport.

The next day, after my usual lazy morning and a late breakfast of cinnamon toast, I decided to head back into East Atlanta again. I thought maybe I’d go to the library after the coffee shop. But this time, as I was heading along Woodland toward Moreland, I looked up and saw a tall thin woman with short brown hair. Inside my chest, there was a sudden rush, a flurry of feathers.

“Bev!” I choked out as we almost bumped into one another. “Hey. How’s . . . Tess?”

“Leah, hi,” she said. “How are you, sweetie? We haven’t seen you in forever. You should stop by the house sometime soon.”

“Oh, I . . . well, I guess I’ve been busy. I didn’t know you were back from New York already. That was a quick vacation.”

Bev looked confused. “Yes, we just went up for a week this year. We came home early because . . . well, have you not talked to Tess?”

“No,” I said. “Is . . . everything okay?”

“Ye—ess,” she said slowly.

“So why aren’t you staying for a month like usual? Is everything okay?”

Bev’s forehead was drawn now. She looked like she was working something out. “Of course. Everything’s fine. It’s only that . . . well, Tess has been saying for years she wanted to go to . . . to camp.”

“Camp?” That word hit me hard.

She nodded.

“Camp. My camp?”

Bev wasn’t meeting my eyes, so I knew I was right.

“What camp, Bev?”

“Camp Whippoorwill,” she said, and it came out funny, sort of breathy.

“Oh.” I said. Then again. “Oh.” I couldn’t find any more than that. My brain was stumbling.

Now her words tumbled out in a rush. “It’s just . . . you always made it sound so wonderful, with the lake and the archery and the plays and everything, and so we booked her early last year, ahead of schedule, thinking you two girls would go together.”

“Sure,” I said. “That would have been . . . fun.”

“And of course, you didn’t go back this year, but Tess was really excited, and so it seemed a shame not to let her . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“That makes sense,” I said. “Sure.” Except that it didn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Leah . . . ,” she said, looking almost pained. “I assumed you and Tess had talked about this. I thought you knew. I hate to be the one to . . .”

“Yeah,” I said. “I could see how you’d think that.” In the world where Tess and I were still real friends, where she still talked to me like an actual person, that would have made sense.