I wondered what things he had to face alone. Do you still wear the mask even when nobody is there to watch?

There’s power in the mask.

Like Dumbo’s black feather?

Yes, but a lot hotter.

Do you mean temperature wise or looks wise?

You tell me.

Hmm. Not sure I find rubber masks appealing.

Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.

I smiled. Is the mask now a part of you?

He’s a part of all of us.

You’re a dork.

There was a pause. One that made me regret calling him that.

What happened today? he asked.

I analyzed that question. Was he just asking me about my day? Was he asking about the swim meet? He was there, then? Someone on the swim team? No, him jumping into the pool with the mask on didn’t support that. I tried to remember who’d been at the meet but could only remember a few people. Jackson. Robert.

I choked, I responded.

Why?

It was my turn to pause. There were so many reasons. Talking to DJ. Amelia grilling me. My parents. Jackson. My shoulders. I let too much in. I should’ve kept the headphones on like I had planned. Stared at the pool. Shut it all out. Kept my walls up. I got distracted.

I can’t always be perfect.

Before he could respond, Amelia honked her horn out front and I quickly typed, See you later, and shut the laptop. On my way out the door I grabbed a sweatshirt. It was supposed to get cold once the sun went down.

The bridge was even more crowded than the museum. Partly because people unrelated to the Heath Hall thing were there to jump and support their friends and partly because of Heath Hall. We’d been there awhile and the Heath Hall crowd was getting a little antsy—constantly looking toward the parking lot, their watches, their phones. I tugged on my hood because I was cold.

Amelia hooked her arm in mine and said, “I know you don’t do sugar, but I want hot chocolate.” We headed toward the concession carts that had become part of the scenery after bungee jumping off the bridge was taken over by Just Jump.

“When are you going to call Robert?” she asked.

“I should probably wait until we see Heath Hall come out. Maybe when he’s jumping. That way I can hear his voice and see Heath at the same time.”

She stopped, making us both stop. “Oh no. I want kettle corn instead.”

“Why?” But right as I said that, I saw why she’d changed her mind. Jackson stood in the hot chocolate line. Irritation surged through me. He was one of the reasons I swam so badly earlier. His need to hang out with my parents had distracted me. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that, though. I swallowed my irritation to prove I could ignore Jackson.

“No, it’s fine. You can still get hot chocolate.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. “Guess we can mark him off the Who Is Heath Hall list.”

“He was never on it.”

“He was my top suspect,” I said as a joke. He wasn’t my top, but he had entered my mind. He seemed like the right personality. The prankster type.

“Hi, Jackson,” she said when we arrived in line behind him.

“Amelia. Moore.”

“Why do you call me by my first name and Hadley by her last name?” I should’ve told Amelia we were ignoring him. But her question was one I was curious to know the answer to as well. I’d just assumed he called everyone by their last names, but hearing him greet us together like that made it stand out.

“Because Moore is a last-name kind of girl.” Somehow he made even that sound like a joke.

“What does that mean?” I asked. Apparently, I couldn’t ignore him.

“I know what he means,” Amelia said.

“You do?” I asked.

“In sports they generally refer to people by their last names. And you are the epitome of a sports girl.”

I looked back to Jackson to see if Amelia’s analysis was right.

“You are that,” he said, but that response didn’t really confirm her theory.

Amelia seemed to think it did and beamed. “See?”

He reached the front of the line and ordered three hot chocolates. Then he turned around and handed one to Amelia and one to me.

“Thank you, Jackson,” Amelia said, wrapping both hands around her cup.

I took the cup, not wanting to be rude. Maybe avoiding sugar didn’t matter anyway; the season was over. And even after all my sacrifices, it had ended poorly.

“Technically, Moore, you owe me, seeing as how I beat you in that swim competition at Sarah’s. But I’m not a sore winner, so this is my prize to you.”

Would. Not. React. I raised the cup with a smile of acknowledgment.

We walked toward an open spot, weaving around camping chairs and blankets spread out on the dirt bank running perpendicular to the bridge as if this was some rock concert or fireworks show.

“Maybe we should have another friendly wager tonight.” Jackson nodded toward the bridge. “Let you win back some of your pride. Should we see who can jump the farthest?”

Just Jump had set up a measuring pole for the “competitors at heart.” The pole was attached to the railing, extending straight out from the bridge, and they kept records of the people with the ten farthest leaps.

Amelia looked up at the leaderboard with his mention of a competition. “Hey, you’re number three.”

My eyes went to the board as well, and sure enough, J. Holt was in the number three spot, which of course made me want to strap on some gear and go charging off the bridge.

“Is that from tonight?” Amelia asked.

“Last summer. Think you can beat me, Moore?”

This time I was going to ignore the desire. “I would, but you probably cheated.”

He gave a small chuckle.

“Why were you hanging out with Hadley’s parents today?” Amelia asked.

I shot her a hard look.

“They seem to like me. I can’t help that I’m so likable.” He met my eyes as if challenging me to contradict him. I couldn’t this time. Even though I had avoided my parents so they couldn’t tell me that very thing today, I knew it was true—they did like him.

Amelia let out a small yelp. “Look who’s here.”

I followed her outstretched finger to see DJ standing by a group sitting on a plaid blanket.

“Did you invite him again?” I asked.

“No, I swear. But I better go claim my territory before Naomi does.” She skipped off, leaving me behind with Jackson.

“Isn’t that guy like thirty or something?”

“He’s eighteen. He graduated last year.”

“Oh. I was way off.”

A girl stood on the jump platform of the bridge, all strapped in, her ponytail sticking out from beneath the helmet. She stepped up to the edge, then over it, a scream echoing behind her the whole way down.

“It’s not very hot,” he said.

I paused. “What?”

He nodded toward my drink. “You’re not drinking it. I thought maybe you thought it was too hot.”

“Oh. No . . .”

“You don’t like hot chocolate? Are you more of a hot cider girl?”

“Ew. No. Only people over eighty like hot cider.”

He smiled big. “I love hot cider, but I can never find it around here.”