Adam, I realize, is keeping behind me, eyes on the ground. A gust of wind makes the old bridge creek and groan a little, and by the way he seems to wince...

"Are you afraid of heights, Adam? We can go back."

He shrugs, doesn't look at me. His cheeks are a bit flushed. There's something about it, about his lack of an answer that hurts my feelings. I don't think he's made eye contact with me once since I picked them up from the station.

I turn away, arms crossed. "You really don't talk at all, do you?" I say. "If you don't like me, you didn't have to come, you know."

Adam's head snaps up, startled. "I didn't..."

"Didn't what? It's true. You talk to Casper." I glance at her and she nods. "But all I get are song lyrics and shrugs."

He shrugs, realizes he's just proved me right, and frowns. He's still not saying anything, and Casper begins to hum the theme to Jeopardy. Adam's mouth draws tight and thoughtful. "Why don't you have parents?"

I blink slowly and turn around to face him. "What?"

"You had a foster mom. What happened to your real parents?"

It's the first time he's met my eyes and not immediately looked away. "I...don't know."

"Were they Jewish, too? You look kind of Jewish."

Casper punches him in the arm. He doesn't seem to feel it. "That was offensive on so many levels. You can't just tell someone they look like a Jew."

"Judaism isn't even a race," I mutter.

Adam's cheeks redden, but I can tell by the way he looks at me so helplessly he doesn't understand what he did wrong. He was just trying to talk, to ask questions, because I told him he should, because he...doesn't want me to think he hates me? I don't know. But he was trying and that's all that matters to me.

"I don't know what happened with my mom and dad." I frown at nothing in particular. "I was really little, so maybe they died."

"Like in a car accident?"

"Maybe."

The truth is, I do know what happened to my parents. They were young and they realized a baby wasn't what they wanted or needed, so they gave me up. I've never understood how a mom and dad can have a kid for two and a half years before deciding, no, nevermind, just kidding. Can we take it back?

I suspect they exchanged me for a cat. Cheaper. Less work.

Adam opens his mouth to say something further, but he halts, eyes going wide. I turn to see what he's staring at behind me, and we watch as Casper hauls herself over the railing of the bridge.

My heart stops. Frozen. I can't make myself move to grab her.

Casper doesn't jump. She positions herself carefully on the outer lip of the bridge in the same spot Jessica did, arms behind her, hanging onto the rail, but not as tightly as I think she ought to.