Adam, though, is scarfing down his burger like he's never tasted anything better. At least someone's enjoying it. I don't know where he fits all that food into his thin little body.

"Did you know," Casper says after a few minutes filled with my and Adam's chewing and occasional straw-slurping, "Rox is a musician? He plays guitar and sings."

My spine straightens to attention. Obviously, I did know that because she told me, but I get the impression I'm supposed to pretend this is the first I've heard of it. "Really?"

Adam lifts his head, chewing paused, mouth still full of food, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He swallows quickly. "Why would you bring that up?"

Casper rolls her eyes. "Because you're sitting there with your head down and your mouth full like you'd rather be anywhere else and it's obnoxious. Say something."

His shoulders hunch up a little and he shrinks in on himself. He needs some coaxing, maybe. He hasn't spoken much to me, but I haven't really made an effort, either. I keep staring at his pretty eyes.

"So, uh, what kind of music do you play?"

He shrugs, taking another bite of his burger. Chewing. Giving himself time to work up to an answer. "Covers."

"Covers?"

"Other peoples' stuff. That's all."

Casper smacks her palm against the table. "Don't listen to him. He's really good. And he'd probably be awesome at writing his own stuff; he's just too scared to try."

Adam slouches, frowning at his fries.

I worry at my lower lip. Casper attempts another go at her burger, but two bites in she groans. "Bad idea." She crawls over me to get out of the booth and heads for the bathroom. I sigh.

"Don't feel sorry for her," Adam mutters around his straw.

"Why's that?"

"She knows what makes her sick. She knows she's in no shape to be out."

"Oh." Pause. "So why's she here?"

He shrugs. "Stubbornness."

I just want to be normal again, she'd told me.

Whether Adam thinks I should or not, when Casper returns with a pale face and an empty stomach, I do feel sorry for her.

"To hell with a movie," she says. "Let's go see that bridge."

#

The Woodshire Bridge sits away from any busy streets, and it's kind of a rickety old thing I could swear you can feel it swaying a little when you drive across. I take them the full length of the bridge and find a place to park within walking distance, so we can backtrack, following the trail I usually take when jogging. I've seen pictures of the Golden Gate bridge, and the suicide signs posted there with crisis numbers to dissuade jumpers. There's nothing like that here. And it's so abandoned the chances of being caught are slim.

Right at the spot where I watched Jessica jump, we stop. There's no fog this time so I can see straight down into the water churning below.

"This is it, huh." Casper braces her hands on the railing and leans over. "Oh my God, how could anyone seriously..."