Noah called my name at the bottom of the back steps.
Before I even turned around I knew it was him. And I hated that I knew it was him. I always knew his voice, even in a noisy, crowded courtyard. The school was nearly empty now. It stretched across the concrete without a buffer. I paused.
Noah was standing by the doors, one hand through the strap of his rucksack. He looked as if he had been waiting there, but I couldn't tell how long. Most of the students had already gone, but some were still heading toward the buses. The sun was dropping behind the main building, and the courtyard had that washed-out end-of-day look it always got in winter.
I held on to my bag and waited for him to come over.
He didn't rush. That was probably intentional. Noah had never been careful about distance wi
