Nobody else on earth knew that song.
I grabbed the padlock.
I yanked it.
It didn’t give.
I yanked again.
“Ruby?”
It came out as a whisper.
“Ruby?”
The humming stopped.
Behind me, a branch cracked.
I spun around.
Jason was standing between two apple trees.
Ten feet away.
No crutches.
No brace.
No limp.
Standing on both legs like a man who’d never been hurt at all.
A plastic grocery bag hung from one hand.
I could see what was inside it.
Strawberry juice boxes.
A new sketchbook.
Three tubes of paint.
All of them purple.
He saw me.
He saw my bare feet.
He saw Scout.
All the color left his face.
“Hannah,” he said.
His voice broke.
“Not like this.”
“You weren’t meant to know yet.”
“Where is she?”
My voice didn’t sound like mine.
“Hannah, listen to me—”
“Where is she?”
He pointed.
Not at the padlock.
