It was the Fourth of July, a holiday that used to mean spending the day with Derek at the Ashbury Festival, which was held at the high school’s football field. The Festival was a mini-state fair—vendors sold funnel cake and cotton candy, sno-cones and hot dogs, while games scattered around the field enticed kids and parents alike to try their luck to win stuffed animals or other carnival prizes. There were T-shirts for sale, and handmade jewelry tents, and the ubiquitous politician on hand hoping to secure his next Senate run. Kids who hadn’t seen each other since school let out a month earlier roved across the field in packs or stood in tight, giggling cliques. A few kicked hacky sacks or tossed Frisbees, or listened to whatever local band had been hired to play cover songs. When night fe
