Almost finished with her run, Emily had no sooner passed the Central School when a sharp whistle caught her attention. Then a shout.
“Hey, Ryder, what’s the story?”
Then Emily remembered. In a way it was a coincidence. In another way it was a solution to a double bind. She couldn’t be in two places at once—here with her growing suspicions and anxiety over Chris; about to go abroad with its own dicey implications starting with Harriet. She doubled back to the verge of the school’s front lawn. Bent over with her hands on her knees, catching her breath, she paid no mind to the Nikon camera clicking away.
“Hey, what can I say?” said Babs Maroon, employing her usual mocking tone. “You’re over the hill, pal. Over the hill.”
The mop of tousled red hair that framed the pinched face of Emily’s
