We head to the front long enough to give Amanda and Robert our condolences. I'm sorry for your loss, because we are, and I thought people saying that sort of thing to me at Maggie's funeral was stupid, but it seems to make Casper's parents feel better. That's all that matters. Then we retreat to the back of the room and stay put. Listening. Here for support, because we loved her, but funerals are so much more for the family than the deceased, aren't they?

(Everyone is here to tell her goodbye. My question still stands: How do you say goodbye to someone who is already gone?)

Amanda seeks us out again before we can leave, and gives us both a big hug. "Don't be strangers," she says. "You're welcome to drop by. Anytime you want. Got it?"

As we head for the doors, I spot a couple guys and girls close to our age milling about near the front of the room. I vaguely recognize their faces from the photo in Casper's room. Her friends. Her ex-boyfriend. The ones she pushed aside. Obviously, she didn't push hard enough because here they are.

So many people loved Caitlin Harms. I wish I could tell her that is her legacy.

"The letters," Adam whispers.

Yes. The letters. Part of the reason we ultimately decided to show up. I had no idea if Caitlin's old friends would be here, but for some reason I really wanted to hand-deliver these rather than drop them in the mail.

I slide them from my coat pocket and we approach the group. They quiet down and turn to us, sad but curious. The only one whose name I know—"Are you Joshua?"

The tall boy straightens up. "Yeah. Who're you?"

"We were friends of Caitlin's," Adam says. He nudges me.

"These are from her. We promised we'd deliver them." I hold out the handful of letters, with Joshua's at the top of the stack.

An indescribable sadness passes over Joshua's face as he takes the envelopes from my hand. He says "Thanks" like an automatic reaction. Good manners engrained that don't fail him even now.

Neither Adam nor I know what else to say, so we nod, turn, and leave. I'm curious to know what the letters say. What Casper's last words would've been to a guy she obviously cared about so much.

The drive home is a long one. Maybe because the van barely sputtered to life, and I'm listening closely for any other weird sounds. I guess I should have it looked at. At the apartment, I head upstairs and Adam gestures for me to go on up while he checks a voicemail he got while we were at the service. I've just gotten out of my button-up shirt when Adam finally joins me.

"Don't kill me, but I have somewhere I need to go. You okay for a bit?"

I'm still yanking at my tie to get it undone, frowning. "What?"

Anxious knots twist up in my abdomen. Where is he going? Why? Right after a funeral? I follow him onto the porch, shirt still in hand, tie dangling around my neck half-undone, almost pathetically frantic because something unplanned is happening and I don't know what's going on. "Adam—"