“What do you ask for?”

Marco looks stunned, as if no one has ever bothered to ask him a question like that before. We aren’t as different as he thinks. Part of me wants to tell him that—to take some of the sadness out of those brown eyes—but I’ve already let myself get too close.

“I want Sofia to graduate,” he says finally. “To go to college and get out of the Downs. I want Cruz’s dad to stop beating the crap out of her.”

“None of that is for you.”

He keeps his gaze focused on me. “There’s no room in my life for what I want.”

“But if there was?”

“I still couldn’t have it.” Marco stares at the ground between us, hands shoved in his pockets. “Some things aren’t meant for guys like me.”

CHAPTER 23

UNSOLVABLE EQUATIONS

The ride back from V Street consisted of lots of apologies from me and icy stares from Lex. I avoided the subject of my risky, ledge-walking behavior, and she didn’t bring it up, either. Instead, Lex tortured me with the street-racing statistics she looked up online while I was racing—fun stuff like the number of annual deaths and arrests.

Lex is still angry with me the next day, and she barely talks to me on the way to school in the morning. We’re halfway to the rec center in the afternoon when I try to break the ice.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the race.”

“Why would you?” She shrugs. “You don’t tell me anything.”

“That’s not true.”

She looks over at me. “Are you serious right now? Before you started at Monroe, we hardly talked at all. When Noah died, you shut me out. I called and texted you all summer, and you almost never responded. And if I tried to make plans or come over, you gave me a bullshit excuse. I thought things would change when you transferred to Monroe, but now instead of ignoring everyone, you only ignore me. If you didn’t need me to drive you to school and the rec center, I’d probably never hear from you.”

She’s right, and it kills me.

“I’m sorry.”

Lex pulls into the parking lot and cuts the engine. “Don’t be. You have new friends, and if you don’t want to hang out anymore, just say so. Because I’m tired of being the only person in this friendship.”

The thought of not talking to Lex at all makes me realize how important she is to me. “I screwed up, Lex. It’s just…”

I’m the shittiest best friend in the history of shitty best friends.

“What?”

“It was you and me and Abel and Noah for such a long time. And it’s hard to think about him.”

Her expression softens. “That’s what this is about? I thought you were trying to replace me.”

“I just wanted to forget.”

Lex throws her arms around me. “As long as you don’t forget about me, too.”

I hug her back, and my eyes flicker to the front of the building.

The three shirtless basketball players are watching us. Two of them flick their tongues at us, and the third guy has added a new crude gesture to his repertoire.

“Look.”

Lex glances at them. “They really are assholes.”

“Agreed.”

She gestures at the door. “Now get out of here before you end up with more community service. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

I watch her drive away as I walk up the hill.

Dirt clings to my sneakers, and I realize it’s everywhere. I never paid much attention before, but there’s almost no grass around the rec center—not even under the abandoned playground structures behind the building.

Dad said there is no grass on the playgrounds in 1-D. At least the ground here isn’t littered with dirty needles and burnt aluminum foil. In a strange way the rec center feels like an island all its own—a place safe from the world around it.

It’s not the Heights. The air here smells like rubber and damp soil, salt ’n’ vinegar potato chips, and the perfume aisle in a department store, but that’s okay.

The air smells like something else, too.

Asphalt.

The scent gets stronger, and I hear Noah laughing.…

“You’re such a liar.” I’m barefoot, in cutoffs and a tank top.

“I’m not lying.” Noah shrugs, wearing board shorts and his X Games T-shirt. “It’s my favorite smell after cotton candy.”

I roll my eyes. “Then you’re the only person in the universe whose second-favorite smell is asphalt.”

He circles around me on his Mongoose and does a crazy trick. “Want to know why?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Not even a little bit.”

Noah flips a 360 on the back wheel. “It reminds me of riding my bike in the summer. That’s when they fill the potholes and my wheels get the best spin.”

“Whatever. I hate bikes.”

Noah grins at me. “That’s because you don’t know how to ride one.”

“I never should’ve told you!” I storm down the sidewalk, my long hair swishing behind me.

The real world starts to seep in from the corners, the way a sheet of paper burns if you hold a match at the bottom.

The rec center’s glass doors …

Dirt on the ground where there should be grass …

The images fade, taking young Frankie and young Noah with them.

“Hey, Frankie?” Noah calls out. “If you want to learn how to ride, I’ll teach you.”

I put my hands on my knees and take a deep breath. But I’m not shaking or dizzy, and my heart isn’t racing. The flashbacks are changing. This one wasn’t even about the night Noah died.

Why now?

Why this memory instead of the one I need?

I don’t want to remember random moments from our childhoods. I want to remember a specific moment from the night at the Sugar Factory.

I’m still trying to make sense of it when I walk into the room where my group meets. The kids are hanging out. I tell them it’s time to start working, and I take out my chemistry book.

Daniel points at my book. “Need any help?”

I flip it around so he can see the cover. “Are you any good at chemistry?”

Carlos laughs. “Daniel can’t even add.”

Daniel punches him in the arm, clearly embarrassed. “Shut your mouth, or I’ll do it for you.”