By the time we went back home, the sun was on the verge of setting and the last streak of orange disappeared into the navy sky. I wondered if anything in the universe could break the connection between Atlanta and I, and the strong bond of friendship both of us held on to. It was fascinating.
As we neared our houses, I saw a figure leaving the porch of my house. Upon closer look, I realized it was Caspian with his hood up and hands tucked in his pockets. The car slowed down in front of him, and I tried my best to duck out of sight. It was no use; he already saw us. But why was he at my house, anyway?
I got out of the car and Atlanta looked at us, back and forth, before deciding to drive away. I felt bad for her, but grateful that she understood, or tried to understand, the situation.
“W
