It was odd to learn about himself secondhand, like reading his own biography. It helped that Ursula seemed so sincere. Right now, she seemed like a person who had never successfully lied in her life. The version of her from before—from the path, from the bike rack—seemed at once so improbable and totally expected. When Kane’s world ended, so had the world they once built together. Maybe his limbo hadn’t been so lonely, after all.

For the next few minutes Ursula talked about baking and their teachers and the frustrations of field hockey. Kane allowed himself a momentary peace. Slowly, somewhere within him, his own flock of sparrows was returning. He didn’t dare get too close. He told himself to be patient and keep casting out crumbs to see what showed up.

The door banged open—a teacher finally coming to tell them to get back inside. Kane’s simmering nervousness returned. So did his guilt. As they entered, the first bell rang, and the halls congested with students. All the questions Kane had forgotten to ask crowded his mind.

“Urs, do we…have any friends?”

Ursula laughed. “Sure, Amity Regional isn’t that big. Most of us have been in school together since like, forever.”

Kane fought to keep his head down, not meeting the stares of students watching him. He thought of the photo of the shoes he found in his journal. His shoes, Ursula’s, and two other pairs.

“No I mean like friend friends? Like, other bird-feeding friends?”

“Afraid it’s just you and me. Sorry, bud.”

“No, it’s okay. I just thought…” Kane didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say. “I thought I recognized someone. Do we know a boy? Tall, brown skin, freckles, greenish eyes, sort of a gaunt, model look?”

Like a cloud drifting across the sun, the light in Ursula went out.

“You mean Dean Flores.”

“Dean Flores?” Kane tasted familiarity in every syllable. “Do we know him?”

“No. He’s new here. Moved to East Amity late last year, I think. Never talks to anyone. The only reason I know his name is because he showed up at the athletics banquet right before school started and signed up for swim team. Evidently he’s really good. A diver, I think? I don’t know. I don’t trust him.”

“Why not?”

Ursula frowned. “Um, because you told me not to. You told me to avoid him on, like, his second day last year. I think your exact words were, ‘Anyone that pretty and that gloomy has probably killed their whole family or is planning to do it during the next new moon.’ And we’ve avoided him since.”

He laughed. The second bell sounded, and Ursula jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

“I’m this way. You have my number, right?”

He’d punched it into his loaner phone, which he held up to show her. Ursula gave a double thumbs-up.