The cloudless sky is thick with humidity, and Elijah is waiting for me outside the locker room door after practice.

“Hey,” he says when I open the door. “I waited.”

My gut goes soft, seeing his smile.

“Listen, I don’t want things to be weird like this between us,” he says. “I want you to know I don’t blame you for, you know… ratting me out that day.”

I swallow hard. I didn’t even know that he knew it was me. “Don’t blame me?”

“Yeah. Things are a little—uh—tense between us, and I just thought…” His voice trails off. “I know it was you that tip-lined me. And I don’t—um—I don’t blame you,” he stammers.

We walk along Main Street for a couple of silent blocks, the sun shining on our backs. We pass a couple of storefronts, and the empty one next to Ron Redd’s Rapid Repair is coming up quick. The one with the windows partially covered in brown paper and the peeling blue paint inside. Where I usually cross the street and walk on the other side. I know Elijah will notice if I suddenly cross Main for no apparent reason, and I don’t feel like explaining all that right now. Not to him.

The air is too heavy between us, and I don’t know how to respond to Elijah’s admission that he knew it was me. There’s a pinpoint of light inside my brain that says Now is when you should ask why he left you the way he did, but everything else inside me is screaming to just ignore it. Nothing good can come from that conversation.

“Remember when we ate nothing but hot Cheetos for an entire summer?” I nod toward Jake’s Convenience in the distance, past the empty storefront with the peeling paint inside.

Elijah lets out a too-loud belly laugh, and the inside of my chest melts. “It’s a wonder we didn’t ruin our taste buds for good. I think my fingers stayed orange until Halloween.”

I glance sideways at him and then run ahead, my eyes trained on the sticker-covered glass door of Jake’s Convenience. I hear Elijah’s footfalls behind me, but I know he won’t catch me before I get into the air-conditioned comfort of the stuffed little shop.

The bell over my head tinkles my arrival just as Elijah catches up, breath heavy. I find a bag of hot Cheetos and grab two bottles of Coke from the fridge while Elijah follows.

“What are you doing?” he asks. I can hear the smile on his face even without turning around.

“Nostalgia,” I tell him as I pay for the items.