It felt like I’d been waiting forever. Finally, the door squeaked open, and I stepped in the path like I had been on my way in.

“Hadley,” he said in surprise.

“Robert. Hi. What are you doing?”

Was Robert Heath Hall? Things that had happened over the last couple weeks flashed through my mind. The fact that he remembered the truth quote, the fact that he was acting shifty when we were talking about it, the fact that I hadn’t seen him at all at the museum, the fact that he thought I swam too much. Maybe I had ruled him out too soon.

“Just talking to Ms. Lin.”

I looked at his hands for any evidence of paint. “You talked to her about a painting?”

“What? No. My schedule. She’s my mentor. Isn’t she yours too?”

“Oh yeah, right.” A seed of doubt at my theory wedged itself in my mind. “Well, I was going to talk to her about a painting. Remember at the art museum?”

“Right, for that Heath Hall thing.” He didn’t even flinch when he said it. Did that mean he was practiced at pretending it wasn’t him or that it really wasn’t him?

“Yes. Well, I loved the painting he did. I was hoping to buy it.”

He laughed, low at first and then loud.

I crossed my arms. So he was Heath Hall. Why else would he be laughing like this? He knew he had fooled me and now he got to rub it in. My cheeks heated in embarrassment.

“You only want to buy it because you think it’ll help you learn his identity.”

Oh. Or there was that. He knew my true motives. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

His mocking smile softened. “You’re getting closer.”

“So is it one of your friends?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Someone I already know?”

“Sort of.”

I huffed. What did that mean? “For the record, I really do like his painting. It’s amazing.”

His leftover smile fully dropped off his face now, and he reached out and grabbed my hand as I turned to go, jerking me to a halt. He spun me back toward him. “You want to catch a movie Saturday?”

“Saturday? I might’ve, but I’ll be following Heath Hall to Whitestone Bridge and watching him jump. Maybe if you told me who he was we could catch that movie.” That was a bluff. I didn’t want to catch a movie with Robert. Nothing had changed with either of us since our breakup and nothing was going to. My butterflies were completely squashed and I was happy for it.

He tapped my chin with his closed fist like he had suddenly turned into my grandpa or something. “Nice try.”

Nice try. That sounded familiar. Heath Hall had said that to me in our chat online. I narrowed my eyes, shook my head, and walked away.

I hate Robert, I texted Amelia.

Do I need to kill him again?

He’s just frustrating.

Are you almost here? Remember the whole my-aunt-is-in-town thing? I’ll have to strand you again if you don’t get to the parking lot. Why are you always going on these missions without me?

I reached her car and opened the passenger door. “Because you take twenty minutes to leave the locker room and I take five, that’s why.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Because you haven’t.”

“Well, you get this ten-minute car ride to fill me in on everything.”

“Ten minutes is not enough.”

“Then you’d better talk fast.”

First I told her about Robert and the conversation we just had, finishing with, “Then he asked me out. Do you believe he asked me out?”

“Deflection!”

“What?”

“He’s Heath Hall.”

“What?”

“He was trying to shock you into forgetting your accusations.”

“I don’t know. If he is, he’s the best actor in the world, and I never considered him all that good at lying.”

“We’ll see Saturday, won’t we? Maybe you should call him and say you’ve changed your mind. That you want to go out with him Saturday. Then if Heath Hall doesn’t show up because he’s out with you at the movies, we’ll know for sure.”

That wasn’t a bad idea. It wasn’t really a good idea either. Because if Robert wasn’t Heath Hall, then I’d be stuck at the movies with Robert.

“How about we both go to the bridge, and while we’re watching Heath Hall, I call Robert on the phone.”

“Yes. Brilliant. Then you don’t actually have to go out with the loser.”

She pulled up in front of my house. “I will sit here for five more minutes and face the wrath of my mother for one more story.”

I wanted to talk about the Jackson/Eric connection that was still plaguing me. I hadn’t told her before and now I was regretting it. But that would take more than five minutes. I needed her full attention and her advice and I wanted to be able to vent for as long as I needed. So I settled for the other story I hadn’t told her yet. “When you abandoned me at school the other day, Jackson drove me home.”

“Home? Here?”

“No, one of my other five homes. Yes, of course here.”

“So you had to tell him the story of the truck?” How was that the first thing she thought of when it didn’t even cross my mind until we were almost to my house? Maybe because I saw it every day and it was as common to me as the grass or the driveway or the mailbox.

“That’s the thing. I didn’t have to tell him. He just assumed it was my dad’s and I let him.”

“Wait, he doesn’t know about your brother?”

“I guess not.”

“You don’t think that’s going to be weird when he’s talking to your dad and it comes up?”

“Why would he be talking to my dad?”

“I don’t know. Why did he talk to your dad before?”

I groaned.

“It’ll be fine. Just tell him . . . or don’t. It’s not like you’re friends. Now, out of my car. Aunt Faye awaits.”

“Have you asked your mom about the bungee jump event? You’re going to be able to come, right?”

“I will be there. Even if I have to bring my aunt with me.”

Seventeen

I brought my headphones to the meet this time. But no matter how loud the music was, as I sat on the cold cement bench, elbows on my knees, I couldn’t block out the fact that Jackson and my dad were sitting in the stands together. Why was he at the swim meet anyway? I scanned the group of guys warming up for the next race. Was one of his friends on the swim team?

He was going to ask about the truck. My dad was going to tell him about my brother. Then my dad would think I was ashamed to talk about it or too sad to tell the story. And Jackson would think I was a liar. It didn’t matter. Amelia was right. Even if Jackson wanted to be, we weren’t friends.

I concentrated on the ground beneath my feet. I couldn’t think about this right now. I had a race to swim. My last one. Of the entire season. And I was going to be distracted. I clasped my hands behind my head, my forearms pushing my earphones in even more.

A hand on my shoulder had me sitting up straight. It was DJ, saying something I couldn’t hear. I turned off my player.