“No. You’re completely stoned.”

“Correction. Only a little bit stoned, and completely capable of steering. I’ll go slow.”

I wanted to go home. I didn’t feel well. Sage wasn’t going to be done any time soon, and I didn’t want to be up there anymore. My head was spinning.

“You won’t do any stupid shit like taking jumps or popping wheelies?”

“Definitely not. Especially when you’re drunk sitting behind me. I like this jacket. I don’t want anyone to get sick on it.”

We got on Wilson’s Yamaha. He kick-started it standing, then sat down, the heft of his body in front of mine. He turned on the gravel, and we moved into the woods, whooshing past the leaves and branches on the dirt track, past the blockade they had built and onto Horseshoe Trail Road.

Wilson downshifted as we glided down the hill and rounded the corner where just a few nights earlier Grady Adams had hit the deer. The disturbed gravel at the side of the road was still visible. Sods of earth were upturned. The township must have used some sort of machine to lift her. I looked the other way and for a moment let my cheek rest on Wilson’s back. We turned left onto Forge Mountain Drive, and I leaned with Wilson and the bike, looking ahead as our headlight picked out a space in the dark. The thrum of the engine beneath me, our high beam finding the road, a slight breeze on my skin and through my hair, Wilson’s sturdy presence in front of me—I felt wrapped and good. For a few minutes we launched through the night, holding the road and the air and the dark. As we came around the corner after Rock Hill, a few hundred yards from my street, I tapped Wilson on the shoulder. He downshifted and pulled in, steadying the bike with his feet on the ground. He leaned his head back toward his shoulder to listen.

“In case my mom hears. I’ll get off now.” I knew I probably needed to walk the last bit before going into the house. If she woke up and saw me like this, she would know I’d been drinking, and I’d be dead.

I tried to get off the bike as if I were experienced, but I had to hop on one foot as I swung the other leg over the seat, my skin unsticking from the leather. I stood next to him on the bike.

“Thanks.” I thought for a moment and then added, “I forgot to say something. That guy was in Space Port, and he was looking around, maybe for one of you.”

“I know. Sage said.”

I tried to remember if I had seen them talking at the fire. “Tonight?”

“No. The other night. On the phone.”

“Oh.”