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“Yes.”
“What flavor?”
“Salted caramel.”
Connor nods solemnly. “Good choice.”
Tessa looks at me. “Did he watch The Iron Giant?”
Locke answers before I can. “Yes.”
All four of them turn toward him.
“And?” Connor asks.
Locke considers him. “You were right. I liked it.”
Connor pumps one fist. “Yes.”
Owen laughs, and even Eli looks pleased with himself for reasons I don’t understand.
For a minute, nobody asks Locke what he is or whether they can take a picture. They argue about movies, ice cream, and whether Connor should be allowed to recommend anything else after apparently getting one choice right. Locke stands in the middle of them, talking like he’s known them for years.
Then Tessa points farther across the square. “We’ve got to go. My mom thinks five minutes means five minutes.”
“Apparently she has unreasonable standards,” I say.
“Exactly.”
Tessa looks at Locke. “See you at the festival?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
The four of them head off together, Connor still trying to convince Locke from twenty feet away that he needs to watch three more movies before Saturday.
Locke watches them go. “They’re my friends?”
Something warm squeezes behind my ribs.
“I think they are.”
He looks pleased by that.
My phone buzzes inside my purse.
I consider leaving it there, then the old reflex wins, the one that insists I should know before the next buzz comes.
I pull it out. DO NOT ANSWER.
The ease I’ve been carrying since Calhoun’s vanishes.
Locke notices before I say anything. “Trent?”
“Yes.”
Rachel. What the hell are you doing?
