“I think it’s kind of cool,” he said, taking a selfie with the motel behind him. “I’ve gone by this place a gazillion times and never stopped to look at it.”

Girl Sam rolled her eyes at him. “I want to do cartoons, not collages. And it’s too hot out here to be walking around staring at stuff we’ve already seen. How’s that inspiring?” Her hand shot up in the air. Loudly, she said, “Karly? Can we stop for a drink?”

“In half an hour we’ll get a snack and then double back through the park,” Karly said. “Let’s head down this way and take note of the architecture . . .”

My ears tingled like I was being watched. I looked left, right, in front of, and behind me. I didn’t see the old man anywhere.

Girl Sam melted into the group behind us and started animatedly talking to Boy Sam like they’d known each other their whole lives.

Good job being a mute and making her not want to talk to you.

“How many parks are there here?” I asked Izzy, trying not to let my worry seep into my tone, forcing myself to be social.

“Uh . . .” he said, scrunching up his forehead. “Two? Maybe three? There’s Veteran’s . . . that’s where they do the Fourth of July celebration, which you just missed, and then there’s Skinner.” He tilted his head to the side. “Wait, did you mean national parks?”

“No, like which one is basically . . .” I turned around in circles to see where we were in relation to where I thought the general store was, then pointed. “Basically right over there.”

“That’s Skinner.” He smiled. “My house is close to it.”

I hoped that Skinner wasn’t the park we were going to walk through, because I was afraid the old man would be there, waiting for me, tapping his feet as I walked by. Trying to tell me something?

The weight of being watched was heavy on my shoulders.

“Earth to Tess,” Izzy said, waving his hand in front of my face.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

“I asked if you were okay,” Izzy said, looking at me with a funny expression. “Because no offense, but you seem sorta out of it. And you ran out earlier?”

“I came back,” I said quietly.

“I know, but . . .” He let that hang there while he patted his hair, which he’d piled up in a topknot. It was a look that could have been retro in a bad way but somehow worked on him. He had the kind of sturdy features that could support any hairstyle, probably.

“I’m just . . .”

Keeping an eye out for an old man stalker?

Afraid of a deer crossing?

Worried my dead best friend is trying to talk to me?

“Whoa,” Izzy said, looking horrified. “Doesn’t that hurt?”