She climbed the rest of the way to where Tom was sitting and then he stood to join her as she scanned the canopy beyond and spotted the wreckage.

“Oh,” was all she said, the word little more than a sigh, and she looked depleted now, exhausted by the sight in a way that she hadn’t been by the climb up the hill. Tom remembered she had a boyfriend—Ethan—on the football team. Maybe that was why she’d climbed up here. “Well, it must’ve been quick—that’s something, I guess.” If she’d been trying to comfort herself, it clearly hadn’t worked.

Tom nodded. “Sorry about your boyfriend.”

She turned and looked at him. She looked on the verge of tears and her throat was tight but she pushed through it, saying, “Ex-boyfriend. I thought everyone knew we’d broken up.” He didn’t respond and she nodded, acknowledging that Tom wasn’t everyone. And perhaps because Tom wasn’t everyone, she stared out at the landscape again and said, “I’m not even sure why I went out with him in the first place. I mean, we didn’t have anything in common, but…” She ground to a halt.

But. That about summed it up. “I’m sorry anyway.”

“Thanks.” She sighed deeply and turned away from the wreckage in the same way Tom had. Likewise, she let her vision drift across the view in front of them before stopping with a double take. She pointed and said, “Oh, my God! Is that a body?”

“Yeah, it’s the only one I could see. I went down there but he’s high up in the branches—I couldn’t get to him.”

“Who is it?” She sounded nervous, like someone who didn’t really want an answer.

“Charlie Stafford.”

He thought he saw relief in her expression, perhaps because it wasn’t someone she knew, even though there was no doubt that they were all dead anyway.

“I didn’t know him. How weird.” Even without her spelling it out, Tom felt he understood what she meant, that it was strange to think she hadn’t known him and would now never get the chance.

He thought about Charlie himself, wondering why he’d never bothered to have a proper conversation with him. Maybe they really did have only that borrowed pen in common, but they might have become friends if Tom had made an effort. Either way, he’d never know now.

Alice turned her back on the body and said, “I’d rather not think about it. Do you think that’s selfish?” Tom shook his head but she still frowned, not looking convinced. Then she pointed at his arm. “Why do you keep looking at your watch?”