“A long time ago.”
More memories returned.
Ben had practically lived at our house during the summers.
He and Adam were always fixing something, playing basketball, or disappearing for hours and coming home filthy.
To me, he had simply been one of Adam’s friends.
Then Adam died.
Eventually, Ben disappeared from my life too.
“But the ice cream truck?”
“That came later.”
Ben explained that after high school, he needed extra money.
His uncle owned a couple of ice cream trucks, so Ben drove one during the summer.
His route included our neighborhood.
“Your mom asked me to keep an eye out for you,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because after Adam died, she worried about you.”
I frowned.
Ben gestured toward the photograph.
“Read what she wrote.”
I looked down.
Under my nickname and the date were five faded words. It read, “Keep an eye on her.”
My throat tightened.
“She wrote that?”
