I wonder if he has any idea what happened with Suicide Watch.

My silence makes Casper heave a big sigh.

"All right, all right. No more Adam-talk. Come on; let's see if we can Google the worst horror movies to watch on a Halloween movie-marathon."

I also wonder if Casper realizes this will be her last Halloween.

CHAPTER 24

I've found a new running path from my apartment building to the river's edge, but too many other people use it. Other joggers, cyclists, dog-walkers. So I drive to the bridge and take my old route Halloween morning, having missed the silence, having missed the bridge itself. I jog across it and stop at the halfway mark, breathing in deep. The air is so cold it stings the insides of my lungs, but it's perfect.

I wonder how long it'll be before Casper comes to this exact spot and jumps. Her words have been reverberating in my head—I don't know how much longer I can do this. How much is enough for her? The throwing up, the pain, the exhaustion. And when the time comes, is she really going to hold me to my promise?

After the fact, will her parents know I helped? Will they blame me? Can I play dumb and act like I'm as shocked as they're going to be? I really like Robert and Amanda. I don't want them to hate me. Common sense says they wouldn't understand this is really, truly what their daughter wants.

Maybe I should jump with her.

The thought of dying brings Adam to mind. Of what it would be like to leave him behind. I emailed him again this morning. No response. It's been two weeks on the dot. The hospital wouldn't tell me anything when I called, not after Mrs. Rockswell made such a big deal out of them letting me in there to begin with.

For all I know, Adam could have gone home and tried to kill himself again and I would never know.

This sudden thought leaves me nauseous, reeling, and staring all the way down into the abyss below isn't helping. I sink to my knees, gripping the rails, breathing deep. I don't have my medicine with me. No time to freak out.

Adam is fine.

Casper is fine—for now.

I haven't lost them yet, and everything is okay.

Breathe, Vincent.

Just.

Breathe.

#

In this part of California, there is no fall or spring. Summer drops right into winter, into summer, back and forth. Our idea of autumn is October, where the leaves rapidly go from green to gold to on-the-ground, and it's suddenly freezing. The van makes a funny noise when I turn the heater on, so I don't bother.

I arrive home around noon, but it hasn't warmed up much since I set out jogging early this morning. Little clouds form in front of my face when I exhale through my mouth. Puff puff puff. Like I'm a train. I probably look like an idiot to anyone watching me. Which is why I stop short near the stairwell leading to my apartment, where Adam is sitting.