The bugle call echoed across the army base in Germany, pulling everything into a slow, familiar pause. Joey kicked at the dirt under the old oak tree, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. Stephanie sat cross-legged next to him, her sketchbook resting on her knees, the tip of her pen still tracing out the last of a wavy ocean scene.

Without looking up, she asked, "How'd you do on that math test?"

Joey shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Still don't get why numbers need letters. Like... why can't math just stay math?"

Stephanie laughed, the kind of laugh that sounded like summer. "They're just placeholders, dummy," she said, flipping a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You’re solving for the missing number."

Joey grumbled, "Still seems dumb."

Stephanie tucked her sketchbook into her backpack — a faded one with a British pop group button pinned near the zipper. "You're good at other stuff," she said, nudging his shoulder. "Way better than me at, like, push-ups and whatever."

Joey perked up a little. "Yeah. My dad always made me do them. Said it would make me tough."

Stephanie tilted her head at him, smiling. "Being tough isn't everything."

"Yeah, well, that's what he says," Joey muttered, scuffing his shoe harder into the dirt.

A breeze rustled through the park, stirring the fallen leaves around their feet. Stephanie bit her lip, her mood shifting.

"Joey... I gotta tell you something," she said, almost a whisper.

He looked up at her, frowning. "What’s up?"

She hesitated, staring out past the baseball fields and the wire fences. "My dad got orders. We're leaving. Going back to the states."

The words hit Joey like a cold punch to the stomach. "What? When?" he blurted out.

"Couple weeks. After the school term ends."

Joey scratched the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. "That sucks."

Stephanie gave a sad little laugh. "Yeah. It does." She reached into her backpack again and pulled out a CD, handing it to him. She had drawn waves on the front with a blue marker, the colors a little smudged.

"I made you this," she said. "So, you don’t forget."

Joey turned the CD over in his hands like it was something breakable. "Thanks," he said, his throat tight.

Stephanie wiped at her eye quickly, like she could pretend it was just dust. "Promise you'll write?"

"Promise," Joey said, voice cracking just a little.

Stephanie stood up, brushing leaves off her jeans. She hesitated for half a second, then leaned down and wrapped her arms around Joey — a hug that said more than words ever could.

Without another word, she turned and started walking away, her backpack slipping slightly off one shoulder.

Joey stood frozen, the CD warm in his hand, the marker ink still a little sticky under his thumb. He opened his mouth, but all the things he wanted to say caught in his throat, tangled and heavy.

"Steph," he finally called out, his voice thinner than he meant it to be.

She stopped and turned. Tears shimmered in her eyes under the fading violet sky.

Joey swallowed hard, forcing a small, uneven smile. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

Stephanie smiled back — a soft, tired smile — and nodded before turning once more into the twilight.

Joey watched her go, the distance stretching between them with every step. He wiped at his cheek quickly, pretending it was nothing, and turned toward home.