“Fucking people think they know something about culture,” she had said.

Now, Thomas wheeled the Griffiths’ lawn mower into the drive and stopped where I was working with the spade.

“Were they nice about it?”

“Yeah. Jack’s going to collect it later after work. They invited me to go to the shore with them tonight.”

“Oh. You should go.” I tried to disguise the pang in my voice.

Thomas started to push the lawn mower up the driveway and stopped. “Hey, doesn’t that Kowalski kid drive a green Impala?”

“What?”

“A green Impala? Some weird guy was just asking.”

I could feel the thuds of my panic in my stomach. “What do you mean, weird guy?”

I knew the kid he was talking about. Craig Kowalski drove a green car, and he hung around with Danny Shields.

“What weird guy?” I repeated.

“Some guy just stopped me on the road and said he was looking for a kid with a green Impala, that he had something belonging to him, and did I know who he was.”

“What made him weird?”

“He was a freak. Long hair. I don’t know. Scary. Even if I knew where the Kowalski kid lived, I wouldn’t have said. His face was all messed up.”

“What?” I looked at the top of the street to see if there were any cars, if he had followed Thomas. I tried to think. Where was Ellen? She and Beatrice had both gone with Mom this morning on her way to work. They were with school friends.

“His face. It was all bruised and swollen.”

A grenade was exploding in my head. He wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t so hurt that he couldn’t drive. And he was here. Thomas moved the lawn mower farther up the drive and leaned over, setting the choke and pulling the starter. The engine kicked in. Barbie Man was up here, and he was looking for the people who had done this to him. He had come alone in broad daylight. I tried to pull a clump of weeds, but my arms were powerless. I sat on the front steps watching Thomas cut the grass. Barbie Man was up here, and who could I tell? Marie was gone. Sage and I weren’t speaking. Wilson was the one who had brought this trouble to us. I kept looking toward the top of the street to see if a car—Ellen had said he drove a black car—passed or turned down toward us. Thomas came and sat beside me when he’d finished the grass.

“You didn’t finish spading.”

“I’m tired. I will, though.”

“The grass still looks shit.”

“It’s a lot better than it was. A few more cuts.”

“Yeah.”