My legs feel wiry and taut as I turn down Juniper toward Sullivan. Soon my feet go numb against the sharp, hot pavement as I race past the bigger, more beautiful houses. The only sounds are the rough heaving of my breath, and the slapping of my bare feet against the concrete. Don’t do it, Jasper. Don’t do it. Because I am thinking that he has gone there to jump. And I pray that I am wrong.

Finally, I reach the place where the road curves and ends in a cluster of trees. After that, there is the bridge.

I am running so fast now. I can barely feel the ground.

Jasper.

A bridge.

And all that emptiness below.

But I will be in time. I have to be. And somehow I will say exactly the right thing. And he will realize that he’s not thinking clearly. Because he may not care about what happens to him right now. At this moment. But he will—tomorrow, the next day. And I care now. So much more than I realized.

I am almost at the bridge now, the span in clear view. My eyes scan the length of it, searching up and down. But there is nothing. There is no one to convince. No one to save. Maybe I was wrong. Wrong, and not late.

I have to be.

But then I spot something on the ground about halfway down, along the railing. A small, dark pile. I race ahead to see what it is.

I am shaking when I finally stop in front of it. It isn’t until I crouch down that I realize it’s a sweatshirt. Blue and green. Any other colors would be better. Because blue and green are the ones worn by all the Newton Regional High School sports teams. I have to put a hand on the railing to steady myself as I pick it up. Before it’s even in the air I can see the arc of the words on the back: NRHS Hockey Team.

No. No. No.

This is not the way it ends. It can’t be. I should have—no. It’s not. Jasper is okay. He has to be. I press myself hard against the railing and over the water below, scanning for any sign of him.

I need to calm down. Focus. Even if he jumped, there’s still time to get him out. It couldn’t have happened that long ago. My hips press against the railing like a gymnast propped up on uneven bars. Looking for signs of life. Praying I find something.

There’s a loud sound behind me then. Wheels screeching to a stop, doors opening. Footsteps. I am afraid to peel my eyes from the water. Afraid I will miss some glimpse of Jasper.

“Stop!” a man shouts behind me. Not quite angry. But very, very firm. “Come away from the railing.”