“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“There’s some stuff you should stay out of.” And I knew that he knew what I was looking for, and that he already knew the answer. But he was advising me on people’s privacy when he violated everyone’s privacy every day, mine especially.

“Okay, I have to go.” I walked down his driveway and picked up two more twigs. One to show Beatrice, and one for her to take to camp. I wondered where Wilson’s dog was. “Where’s your dog?” I called back.

“Who?”

“Your dog. Samson.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Oh.” My heart skipped a beat. Wilson was a very convincing liar.

By the time I got home, both Ellen and Beatrice had their suitcases packed and ready in the living room for their departure the following morning. Mom had come home with the stuff from Beatrice’s packing checklist and a set of pencils, charcoal, and a sketch pad for Ellen. She said there had been a change of plans. She’d organized for the Gambinos to pick Ellen up on Sunday instead, so that she could do the costume for Peter and go to the parade. I knew this was for me; this was her trying. I could see her watching my face for a response. It must have fallen at first—it meant another day of worrying about Barbie Man. Ellen lit up and immediately started organizing: she needed to come with me that night to babysit so she could measure Peter and resize the vest, she’d get him to try everything on, she’d figure out how to attach the sign to the bike, and could she also stay at the Sun Bowl tomorrow night for the fireworks after?

Ellen and I walked to the Bouchers’ in silence, both of us watchful as we went up the road to cut through the trail. Coming into the tower lot, we could see the remnants of the party a few nights earlier. Under the blinking lights, the six large black circles on the gravel where the fires had burned looked like moon craters. Farther down, the trail was still blocked by branches, a few rusty bikes, and tires.

Ellen was holding a shopping bag with Peter’s costume, needles, thread, and extra material. She had streamers and strips of fabric and rolls of colored crêpe paper and tape to decorate the bike. She should have been talking about the costume, or life with the Gambinos and Gabriel, or the art program she’d been accepted into. Instead she was guarded and nervous. I hadn’t told her that Thomas had seen Barbie Man on the mountain. Just one more day up here, and we wouldn’t have to think about it for two straight weeks. Tomorrow at the parade we’d be surrounded by people all day.