Tony came back with a grin on his face and an Acme brown paper bag. He pulled out small plastic packets, flinging them at us. One landed in my lap. Marshmallows. I looked over at Sage, and we both burst into laughter. It was unbelievable. Tony looked so pleased with himself, and he sat back down and put two marshmallows on the end of the stick he had made into a spear and handed two to Sage next to him. I opened my bag, took one, and put it on the stick. People were passing them, so I passed my bag to Jack.

“Tony made us skewers,” I said.

“I can see,” he said. He seemed annoyed about something. He leaned forward and said, “Can I talk to you? Like apart from everyone?”

“Yeah, okay.” I got up and walked away before Sage had a chance to say anything to us. I could feel Wilson watching as we walked across the lot. I led us toward the mouth of the trail, and I remembered the night we watched the snow up there with Thomas and the night at the swim club, and how, despite what Sage had said about him, there had been something between us.

20

I moved quickly through the dark, sure-footed despite the beers. I could feel the trail beneath me, roots like bent arms in the path that could catch your foot, the spine of angled rocks, and I knew without looking where they were. The yellow rectangles that some nights blazed on trees were barely visible. I had the sensation of something behind both of us. Abbey’s stories about graves and upset spirits didn’t scare me. If the spirits were here and all around me, they knew I wouldn’t tear up the ground or level trees. I believed Mrs. Carlson’s story. She seemed like that kind of person, someone who would go out there alone and explain herself and listen.

“Whoa. Slow down. I can’t see anything. It’s pitch-black,” Jack called behind me. I kept walking. “Jesus, Libby, just stop.”

I turned and waited for him. “Let’s sit here.” Just off the trail was a flat-topped boulder. He sat next to me but shuffled to sit farther away. He was breathing fast, as if he’d been running, and seemed different from the Jack I’d been with at the pool. He was rigid and upright, his relaxed confidence gone. The night was dark, and the air had become very still. I turned to face him, but he was looking straight ahead, and I knew he hadn’t brought me down here because he liked me.

“What’s up with you and Wilson McVay?”

I suddenly felt cold away from the fire. Why was everyone so obsessed with me and Wilson?

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Thomas told me he’s always hanging around your house. And Abbey said stuff.”

“No. Oh my God, no.”

“Wilson’s like twenty.”