“At Luke’s.”

“I looked for it the other night. It brought back some homework memories.”

“You mean like the time when I did my homework and you Googled swim strokes,” he said flatly.

“Right.” It was nice of him to keep reminding me why we weren’t together anymore. “Me and my one-track mind,” I added sarcastically.

“So you’re admitting it for once?”

A new song came out of the earbuds that were dangling around my neck. I could barely make out the tune but my mind immediately started singing the lyrics. I wanted to just put them in and walk away. “I guess the truth can’t be hidden forever,” I said, mostly because I didn’t want to argue about this.

“Or the sun or the moon.”

I froze. “What?”

“Is that not how the saying goes? Your dad said that to us once, right?” His expression was innocent, relaxed. It didn’t seem like he was hiding anything or trying to fool me.

“He did?”

“Yes, you’d shown up late for curfew and we made up some excuse that he obviously knew was a lie.”

I could remember my dad giving me a lecture, but I didn’t remember Robert being there at all. I tried to picture Robert in a tux and a mask. At the museum Heath Hall had been forty feet away, so it was hard to gauge size. If I backed up forty feet right now maybe it would be easier to tell.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I just ate your last french fry.”

“You liked to do that a lot.”

He smiled. “Only because it made you mad.”

I took a step back. “I have to go.”

He said something behind me that I didn’t hear because I was immediately surrounded by the chaos of the school hallway and my music. For a moment I didn’t remember where I was supposed to be next. When Amelia joined me, I realized it was lunchtime.

“Have we ruled out Robert?” I asked, turning off my music.

“For dating again? Making out with? Talking to? I need some context here.”

“No, as Heath Hall.”

“We mentioned Robert as a possibility but decided he isn’t the putting-on-a-mask-in-a-public-place-for-attention type. Why?”

As we walked to our normal spot in the courtyard, I summarized my conversation with Heath Hall and my conversation with Robert a few minutes ago, including the quote he’d said. The same one from the other night.

“You’re still having private conversations with Heath Hall?”

“Yes.”

“So . . . you think it’s Robert?”

It didn’t make sense. Robert wasn’t in any way, shape, or form an artist, which was the only real clue I had about Heath Hall. I let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t care. I don’t know why I’m still thinking about this.”

“I don’t either. Our list was pretty much obliterated after almost all of them were at the museum, watching the events unfold. And you were able to talk to fake Heath about the pool thing. I thought you’d be over it.”

“I am.” I was. I was definitely going to be. We sat down at the table and I let my backpack slide to the ground next to me. “Oh! I keep forgetting to tell you.” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t told Amelia what my dad had said about Jackson yet. Amelia would tell me it wasn’t so bad. That Jackson wasn’t that horrible and that it meant nothing about how I would’ve gotten along with Eric.

“What happened?” she asked. “You look miserable.”

“Jackson.”

“I don’t understand. How did Jackson happen? Is that like a metaphor or something? Are we using Jackson as a verb now?”

I smiled. “I can think of several words where the name Jackson would fit perfectly in their place.”

She moved her eyebrows up and down. “I’m sure you can.”

I smacked her arm. “They would be bad words, not good ones.”

“So. Tell me how you got Jacksoned.”

“He squirmed his way into hanging out with me and my dad at the yogurt place.”

She grabbed my arm in faux horror. “How awful.”

“It was! He made my dad like him.”

She pulled out her bagged lunch. “How did he do that?”

“Basically he didn’t stop talking the entire time and told a million stories that made him sound funny and charming. I have a feeling this is all part of some elaborate joke he’s put together.”

She laughed. “Jackson flirting with you is part of a joke?”

“He wasn’t flirting.”

“I know you don’t have a flirt meter like the rest of us, but I promise you he was.”

I opened my mouth to tell her what my dad had said when she added, “You do not need to give in to him, though. I like him just fine, but I can see why you don’t.”

I shut my mouth. “You can?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty self-absorbed and childish. He makes me laugh, but I could never take him seriously.”

“Right . . . exactly.” It felt weird admitting that. It felt like admitting that I wouldn’t have liked my brother. And apparently Amelia wouldn’t have liked him either.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Absolutely nothing.

“Did you bring a lunch?” she asked, nodding toward my bag.

I stood. “Yes, but I need to go talk to Coach. I’m not going to the awards banquet.” I had just decided this, and although three people had told me I’d make the right decision, it didn’t feel right. My stomach was twisted tighter than it was prerace. I figured either decision would’ve produced that feeling, though, so I didn’t change my mind.

“It’s mandatory,” Amelia said.

“For people without dead brothers.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. If only we could all be so lucky.” I felt a twinge of guilt for joking about it, but sometimes it was all I could do to lighten up the whole subject. And besides, if my brother was as “fun” as my dad claimed, he would probably find the exchange amusing.

“I thought you wanted to go to the awards banquet. Cement your place as favorite with the coach.”

I picked up my bag. “I did, but I’ve been thinking, and maybe I am too singly focused.”

“Did Robert get in your head? I’ll kill him.”

“No. Well, sort of, but I started it. I do think a lot about swimming. My life kind of revolves around it.”

“Mine would too if I were as awesome as you.”

“Thanks, but even if I were that awesome, it’s no excuse to be so obsessed.”

“I think any excuse is a good one to be obsessed.”

I smiled, took a step away, then said, “You okay here . . . ?”

She rolled her eyes and nodded to a table behind her. “I’ll go sit with Katie. Good luck with the coach’s wrath.”

“Dead brother,” I called as I walked away.

I knocked on the glass outside Coach’s door when I arrived, even though I could see that it wasn’t Coach inside but DJ. I bit my lip. We still weren’t exactly back to pre-insult comfort around each other, but I knew he felt bad, so I was trying to get past it. DJ gestured me in.