“Good . . . so, yeah.” It was just guilt. That’s all this was to him—just a big pity parade. I was stupid to think he might be feeling any of the things I was feeling—that he’d be upset when I told him we can’t spend time together. He came, he saw, and I’m sure he’s been ready to bail for a while. He’s probably relieved.

“Come on,” he says, taking my elbow and guiding me toward the northbound platform. “I’ll see you to your train.”

We get to the platform just as a train is pulling in. The doors open and I step through. When I turn, Alessandro is still on the platform. “Where were we going, anyway?”

But the doors whoosh shut before he can answer.

We stare at each other through the glass for another beat of my dying heart, then the train glides out of the station. As soon as it hits the tunnel, tears are tracking down my face, but I choke them back. This is how it has to happen. It’s the only way to keep my secrets safe.

WHEN I FINALLY pull myself out of bed at noon, I realize it’s Thursday. I’ve survived a week without Alessandro, but today is our day. I drag myself through the shower and get dressed. Then, to stop myself from missing him, I call Jess.

“Hey!” she says when she picks up.

“Hey. I was thinking of doing a little Christmas shopping. You in?”

“Def! When?”

“Now, if you’re ready.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

I think about who I have to buy for. “I don’t know. Macy’s maybe?”

“We’ll get better deals at Century Twenty-one. Meet me there in an hour?”

Century 21 is just a few blocks from the World Trade Center memorial. I’ve avoided it for no reason in particular, but suddenly, I feel the overwhelming urge to see it. “Have you ever been to the WTC memorial?”

“Sure. A couple of times.”

“Do you mind going back? I’d like to see it.”

“You’ve never been?” she says, surprised.

“No, but I’m feeling like I should go, you know?” I haven’t seen Alessandro since I left him standing on the subway platform a week ago. I can’t see him again. I don’t know if that’s what’s behind the sudden compulsion—that it’s a way to feel connected to him without actually being with him—but I feel drawn to see it.

“Yeah, sure. We can do that first, if you want. I’ll meet you at the corner of Church and Vesey? We can walk over.”

“Thanks, Jess. See you in an hour.”

JESS IS ALREADY there, leaning on the wall near the post-office entrance of the Federal Building, when I walk up to the corner. She takes one look at me and the smile falls off her face. “What happened?” she asks, pulling me into a hug.

I hug her back, way longer than I normally would. “What didn’t happen would be easier to answer.”

“Is it the part? It sucks, Hil, but you’ll get the next one. I just know it.”

I let her go and start toward where the throngs of people are disappearing around the corner toward the site of the old World Trade Center buildings. The sidewalk is lined on the left with chain-link fencing hung with blue tarps, and behind it, the endless construction continues. “It’s the part, but other stuff too.”

“So start with the big stuff and we’ll work our way down,” she says, looping her arm through mine.

“My mom has cancer.”

“Holy shit, Hilary. You weren’t kidding.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“How is she?”

“I have no clue because she won’t talk to me. I’ve called every day since I found out three weeks ago and she won’t take my calls. They tell me not to bother making the trip again because she’s refusing to see me.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what I did to piss her off.”

“Jesus,” she says, hanging her head. “That’s rough.”

Some asshole walking backward with a camera slams into me, nearly knocking me over. When I get my balance, I shove him back. “Watch it.”

He glares over his shoulder at me. “Screw you.”

“Back at ya, asshole.”

Jess tugs me away before I take a swing at the guy. “Karma will take care of people like that,” she tells me.

And then I look up and see where we are.

In front of me is the block where the World Trade Center buildings stood before the attack. It’s now a cobbled park with two giant reflecting pools where the bases of the buildings use to be. We move closer and it becomes noticeably more hushed, the cacophony of chattering tourists dropping to a rustling of whispers. The reverence is clear in the face of everyone around us. Inside me, everything shifts, and I feel the sudden urge to go back and apologize to the guy with the camera.

“Can you feel the energy here?” Jess whispers. “It’s different than anywhere else in the city.”

And for once, I think I kind of get her, because it does feel different.

Out of the total blue, a huge knot of grief forms in my chest and tears spring up behind my eyes. And the image that accompanies those feelings is a beautiful sixteen-year-old boy without a father.

I heard the sirens. I felt the city scream. What happened that day changed everyone. But Alessandro’s father died here, and his life changed in ways I can’t even imagine.

I move to the edge of the enormous pool where the north tower used to be and walk around the edge, scanning each name engraved into the side and looking for one with the last name Moretti. I find it halfway around the second side. Lorenzo Moretti. So, Lorenzo was a junior. I lean into the edge and trace my fingers over his engraved name, sniffling into the sleeve of my jacket.

He was assistant chef at Windows on the World, at the top of the north tower. He walked with Lorenzo and me to the subway when we left for school that morning, and that was the last we ever saw of him.

Tears come harder at the memory of Alessandro’s words—at the memory of the haunted look in his eyes as he said them. I imagine him here, standing just where I am as an adult, finally grieving his dead father.

Ghosts.

Jess steps up next to me and lays a hand on my back. We just stand here for what feels like a really long time as I imagine Alessandro’s family before. Two parents. Lorenzo, the troublemaker. And Alessandro, the adoring little brother.

I remember how he was when I knew him . . . always trying to sort through his feelings. Trying to make sense of the world and all the shitty things that happen in it—trying to make sense of why his father died, and why his mother left him.

That was his way of trying to stay sane in an insane world.

Finally, when I feel the knot in my chest start to ease, I scrub my sleeve across my face and back away from the pool.

“You okay?” Jess asks.

I nod and we head back the way we came.

I come away from the Century 21 two hours later with a bottle of Brett’s aftershave, a scarf and some gloves for Mallory, a graphic T-shirt for Jeff, a new Lego set for Henri, and finger paints for Max, because Mallory mentioned his physical therapist said tactile things would help his sensory integration, what ever that means. I couldn’t find anything that I thought they’d let Mom have in prison.

“So, we only got to number one on your list earlier,” Jess says as we trudge back to the subway. “What else?”

We start down the stairs into the subway. “There’s a guy.”

She glances at me as we reach the bottom. “Other than Brett?”

I nod.

“The one you were dancing with at Club Sixty-nine? Because I’ve gotta tell you, that guy made me question my sexual preference.”

“I don’t really know what’s going on with us. I mean, I’m with Brett, and I’m not looking for anyone else, but . . .” I hang my head.

“You just met him, right? He’s got that dark, mysterious thing happening. It’s hotter than hell, but as soon as you get to know him, you’ll find out he wets the bed and still lives with his mommy or something. Not that I’m a big fan of Brett’s, but the grass is always greener, Hil.”