She was right, though. I didn’t belong here, in a dorm room ten miles from home, falling asleep every night to the only slightly more distant thud of the Disneyland fireworks. I guess I half hoped to see Cassidy exiting a building, wearing jeans and sneakers, her disguise. I pictured her looking up, secretly glad that I’d found her. We’d sit down on one of those wooden benches and she’d tell me how she was sorry, and it had all been a mistake. But things like that never happen, except in really awful movies.
