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different happens instead.”
    “What? I’ll go into more memories? I’ll remember things?” The sun is starting to come up. Time is moving quickly; it feels like I’ve been out here for ten minutes, when it must have been hours.
    Alex scratches his head, thinking. “Well, you know how they say that, when you die, your life flashes before your eyes?”
    I nod.
    “It’s kind of like that. Except it’s much … slower. You get really tired, like you’re going to fall asleep. You close your eyes. But you don’t sleep. Instead, you see things.”
    “What kinds of things?”
    “Things from your life. Sometimes they’re just random memories. Other times, they’re more important. It’s like you’re putting together a puzzle. You watch things happen, and when you’re seeing them from the outside, you can understand them better. It’s like what I showed you in the cafeteria.”
    “But you don’t know who hit you yet?”
    “No. Not yet.”
    I pout. “Are you even close to finding out?”
    He nods. “Yes. I’m close.” Then he adds, “But it might be different for you. I don’t know.”
    “Oh, you’re a big help. Thanks a whole lot.”
    “Want some real advice?” he offers.
    “Oh, please. You’ve done so much already.” My voice simmers with irritation and sarcasm. I’m over the shock of my initial rudeness. Alex and I are not a good mix. There’s no point in pretending to get along, is there?
    Alex nods at the boat. “There you go. Things are about to get interesting.”
    I turn around. Standing on the deck, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxer shorts, is my boyfriend, Richie Wilson.
    “Richie,” I say, starting to cry again. I raise my voice to shout at him. “Richie!”
    “He can’t hear you.” Alex sighs. “You aren’t the sharpest sheep in the barn, are you?”
    “That’s not even the right metaphor,” I snap, my attention still focused on Richie. “It’s sharpest pencil in the box. ”
    “Right.” Alex nods. “Except you are a sheep. I’m not stupid, I just adjusted the metaphor to fit your persona—”
    “Oh, shut up. Richie!” I scream again. Alex shakes his head.
    “Liz?” Richie calls softly, looking around. He wraps his arms around himself, shivering in the cool morning air. “Liz, are you out here?”
    I scream his name, over and over again, until I’m so tired that I feel like I’m going to collapse. He obviously can’t hear me.
    Richie looks around for a few more minutes. He doesn’t seem concerned; why should he? My parents’ house is less than a two-minute walk from our boat. For all he knows, I woke up early and went for a run. The last thing he’s thinking, I’m sure, is that I’m standing less than ten feet away, practically right beside him. Or that I’m also in the water, beneath him.
    He waits a few more seconds. Then he walks inside, probably to go back to sleep, sliding the door shut behind him. Richie and I have known each other since we were toddlers. We grew up on the same street. We’ve been a couple since seventh grade. We love each other. Somehow, from deep within myself, I know all this. These aren’t the kinds of facts that I can imagine ever forgetting.
    “Damn it,” I whisper, watching as he slips back inside the boat, wiping more tears from my eyes.
    “Don’t worry,” Alex says.
    “Why not?”
    “He’ll know soon enough.”
    “He’ll never be the same,” I murmur. “None of them will.”
    “You’re probably right. How will any of your friends function without you?”
    I decide to ignore his sarcasm for the moment; I have more important things to deal with. “What do we do now?” I ask. The sun is growing brighter, reflecting against the water. Beyond the boat, beyond the docks, I can see the town of Noank beginning to illuminate.
    “We wait,” he says. His gaze follows mine. Together, we stare at our little town, where everything used to feel so safe. “It won’t be long now,” he says, “before someone