A short memory flashed through the depths of my mind. I was just a naïve little girl in that memory, cheeks flushed pink with the wind and eyes that shone with innocent and undiluted happiness. I was shaking hands with a younger Rebecca in that memory, both of us agreeing on our friendship pact. A boy, a few years older than me, started chasing us with water guns in that memory. In that long-forgotten memory of happiness, there was Ezra.

Most of my childhood was spent in the city; we only moved to Bloomville when Ezra started having problems. Rebecca Rose was my first and best friend back then. We...