The sun had already disappeared behind the rooftops, and the light over the courtyard had taken on that dull, gray tone that makes everything appear flatter. It was the kind of light where shadows have no depth and faces look slightly unfamiliar. Fiona, Jonas, and Mira were already sitting on the low wall at the edge of the schoolyard; the bark of the chestnut tree behind them darkened by rain. Their silhouettes stood out sharply against the glassy sky.
Jonas tossed a tennis ball into the air, catching it with one hand as if the game were more important than any conversation. The ball flew in even arcs, up and down, always the same rhythm, which made me strangely nervous. Mira flipped through the photos on her camera, the clicking the only steady sound. Fiona drummed her fingers impatiently on her thigh, a nervous, quick pattern that filled the silence.
"There you are finally," she said as soon as I approached. "Where were you?"
