Thomas had gone straight to get Wilson, convinced that Barbie Man would make Ellen take him to Wilson. They’d gone out on the Yamaha to see if they could find Ellen or the black Camaro, then back to Wilson’s in case he came for them there, not expecting him to already be waiting. He definitely hadn’t expected to see me coming out of the woods, holding a gun.

“A gun?” asked Marie.

“The Marksman.”

“You’re serious? You armed yourself with a toy?”

“It’s not a toy, and it looks real in the dark.”

We had to describe repeatedly what had happened to cause Barbie Man to get stabbed in the hand. I didn’t know. The knife was his. Thomas had thought he was going to stab Wilson or slit his throat, he was so out of control.

Officer Day asked Marie for our mother’s contact phone number in North Carolina.

“I’m sorry,” Marie said. “We left my apartment in such a rush, I didn’t bring my bag with the information sheet my mother gave me. It had all her contact details and the emergency numbers. I’d call my roommate, but she’s away right now.”

I knew Marie was lying to protect Mom, but I worried we had still told the police too much, and that maybe she’d be in trouble already. Would they take us away? From each other? What would happen to Beatrice?

The police spoke to the hospital. Wilson had a broken jaw and a punctured lung from a broken rib, which was why his breathing had sounded so difficult. He was having surgery to wire his jaw shut. He’d be in the hospital at least a few days, but should be okay.

“What about . . . the other one?” Thomas asked.

Officer Day said, “Don’t worry. You didn’t kill anybody, son.”

At the end of the interview, we stood in the hallway for a few minutes. “That’s my T-shirt,” Marie said. I looked down. It was the black one I had put on before I left the house.

“Oh, yeah. I borrowed it.”

“It’s one of my favorites,” Marie said. I looked at it. It was the Ramones’ Blitzkrieg Bop shirt, Hey Ho Let’s Go! written across the front, around the American seal.

We stepped out of the police station into early-morning light. The Schuylkill River was flushed in pink and gold, a chorus of birds sang from unseen trees or ledges somewhere, and the earth felt clean. We were safe and together. Grady and Sage walked ahead of us. Despite everything I had done, they were still there, waiting to take us home. Grady told Thomas to sit in the front. I got into the back of the Mercedes and slid all the way over to the far door. Marie sat next to me, then Ellen. Sage sat on the other side.