Then Jasper leaned in, crossed the few inches between us. She leaned in and set her forehead against my forehead. Hairline to hairline. We stayed like that, for a minute.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m glad I know.”

“Me too,” I said, smiling a little, and sniffing. “I kind of can’t believe it.”

“You can’t believe that you told me?” asked Jasper.

“Yeah,” I said. “That. But also that I waited so long. It’s been a year. Almost a year. I’ve been waiting a long time to say it out loud. I think . . . maybe . . .”

“Maybe what?”

“I think maybe I thought it would make it real, to say it out loud. Make it true. Like if nobody else ever knew how it happened, knew the things I was thinking and feeling, it was like it didn’t really happen.”

“Yeah,” said Jasper.

“But the thing is,” I said, “it did happen the way I remember it, and I did look away, and nothing can ever make that untrue. So actually, I was keeping it all to myself. Like all the badness was just for me, inside me.”

Jasper nodded slowly, like she was thinking about what I’d just said. Like she was thinking about it hard. Then, suddenly, she sat straight up on the blanket and took a deep breath. She looked down at me, and I saw that there were tears in her eyes too. “You know, Leah,” she said, “it is not your fault.”

“I’m not sure I do know that,” I said. “But—”

“No,” said Jasper, shaking her head. “You’re wrong about this. You’re a kid and you didn’t do anything wrong. It is not your fault Sam died, and I know that for sure. For sure. I promise you.”

“Okay . . . ,” I said, sitting up too, and hugging my knees. Wanting to believe she was right.

“But also, I think that maybe it’s time I tell you a story. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said again. “I’m listening.”

Then Jasper took her deep breath, and opened her mouth, but at that very moment, I noticed something. I noticed that the sky wasn’t so dark anymore. There was pale gray light now, behind the trees. Thin, winking light, forcing its way through the fog and the leftover rain clouds.

“Oh, no, NO!” I said, pointing at the sky behind her. “Look!”

“What?” she asked. She turned.

“Jasper,” I said. “It’s morning!”

Far From Finished

I ran hard without stopping, and I was breathless when I reached my front yard. Panting as I tiptoed those last few feet up the porch steps. Maybe I could somehow sneak back in without being spotted. Maybe they’ll be in the shower, I thought. Maybe they’ll be running late.