There's been yet another sultry thunder storm. The sidewalk is wet and the air is almost too hot and damp to breathe. A chorus of cicadas screeches out deafeningly from the trees overhead.
The insects' calls are so loud that I don't even hear Damon approaching until he says my name.
"Celeste." He steps up to match my pace and my heart feels a little bit good for the first time in a while. "Is that you?" he asks.
"Hey."
It's so hot and humid out that suddenly I'm worried I'll start sweating too much. I can feel a drop already threatening to creep down my temple.
"Just wanted to, you know, welcome you back." In his hat and sunglasses, walking his casual pace, Damon somehow looks as comfortable and cool as he'd be in the middle of spring. "How have you been?" he continues. "I mean, you been . . . okay?"
I shrug. "Just trying to get used to going to school here again, I guess."
"You walking home? Thought you lived, like, way out by Utica."
Thunder rumbles in the distance. The cicadas' calls burst out in another communal din.
"Just felt like walking home today." I hope he doesn't realize I tried to bump into him on purpose. "It's not that far," I lie.
"I'd walk you home, but I'm supposed to have dinner with my girlfriend's family."
Great. I should have known Damon would have a girlfriend by now. I don't even bother asking who he's seeing.
"It's fine," I say. "See you around."
As Damon turns down Rogers and walks away with barely a wave, I remember how he used to smile at me back before my disappearance. I hadn't ever had a real boyfriend—I still haven't—but I think Damon may have actually liked me back then. It's all ancient history now, but the way he used to smile at me, his eyes brightly locked onto mine, had always given me hope that there might have been something between us.
And that's when I remember.
The note.
