“That was nice,” Gabby called from the kitchen after Jay had left, finishing cleaning up.
Charlie had picked up his guitar again. “Yes.” He strummed a few chords distractedly. “It was nice.”
“Here, do something . . . ,” Gabby said to him. “You’re always in your own world. Make yourself useful.” She bundled up a bag of trash and handed it to him to take out.
“All right.” He put down the guitar and, without objecting, took the bag outside to the plastic trash bins on the side of their apartment.
She was right, of course, he decided—it was nice to have Jay out here. To feel they were close again. Like time had taken them back to a simpler and better day. Even if . . . Suddenly the reason Jay was there came back to him.
Even if it was because Evan had died.
He lifted the plastic trash cover and was about to drop in the bag when . . .
He barely noticed it at first.
It was just lying there, on top of yesterday’s trash. Staring back at him—as if alive.
And in a way it was alive!
“Gabby!” he tried to scream. “Gabby!” dropping the trash bag, but nothing came out.
Only a tsunami of shock and overwhelming confusion swept through him.
It was a black Nike sneaker.
His heart came to a stop. Evan’s sneaker.
The one he’d been wearing up on the rock the day he died.
The one they never found.
Hands tingling, Charlie gingerly picked it out of the trash bin. Yes, he was right—he was sure!
It was Evan’s sneaker.
What could it possibly be doing here?
At first his heart almost exploded. Overcome with joy. This proved it, didn’t it? What he’d felt all along? That Evan wouldn’t have killed himself.
He turned to shout: Look! Look what I found.
Gabby!
But then he stopped. The elation throughout his body shifted to fear. He scanned around, expecting someone to rush out of the shadows at any moment. But no one was there.
He held the sneaker like a priceless relic, tears welling in his eyes.
He knew he couldn’t tell anyone. Not Gabby—poor Gabby—who would die herself just to see this.
Not even Jay.
No, no one could see this. Because he knew who had put it there. The past had brought it. Just as he always feared.
The past.
That’s what it meant.
That the past had found him.
And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do to stop it now.