I sit back and rest against him. His panting rocks me.

It hasn’t rung before. Fully charged for thirty-nine days and it hasn’t rung. Not once.

I’m the only person who knows you’re gone.

Aren’t I?

But it’s rung now. Somebody wants to speak to you. I’ve managed everything else, but I don’t know what to do about this.

I wash my face, mop the vomit from around the toilet, pull on some clothes, feed Splints, get some breakfast, all the while keeping myself as far as possible from that phone. I can hear you teasing: What? You think it’ll bite?

The clock shows ten. I can feel the phone flashing on the table.

I edge closer. The little light on the side blinks at me. I lean over and touch the screen on. One missed call.

Rae School.

The silence echoes.

I stare at the words some more.

The screen flicks to black.

Splinter licks my ankle.

Lettie. The answer’s firm. Lettie will help me. I brush my hair. Wash my face again and calm-face myself in the mirror. Cool, calm, collected. It’s your voice in my ear. I straighten my shoulders, slip your phone into my pocket.

Lettie will help.

THE GARBAGE BAGS are still in the front yard, but the porch is empty and the front door’s half-open. It can open. At the sight of it the acid bubbles in my chest soften into something more warm and glimmery. I did that.

“Lettie!” I’m almost smiling when I step around the door, straight into the back of someone. The back smells like roses. Not Lettie, then.

“Oh!” The back turns to show a slightly familiar face—and a very familiar cardigan. She lifts the glasses off her nose and lets them drop onto the chain around her neck as she peers at me. It’s not an unkind face. It’s round and a bit soft-looking with deep creases that run like brackets along either side of her mouth, separating her cheeks from her lips. The lips are pursed now, making the creases frowny.

“Hello. Who are you?” She smiles and her face folds up into her eyes in a way that makes me think she might smile a lot.

I step back into the doorjamb, bruising my shoulder, my heart kicking up again. I pull my hands behind my back and pinch my fingers, hard. I need to focus.

“Where’s Lettie?” My voice squeaks at the end.

“Lettie’s right here.” She steps out of the gloom.

“And this is?” The councilwoman looks from me to Lettie, an eyebrow raised.

“This is Rae. From next door. She and her mother keep an eye on me.” She turns and gives me her best bird eye. “Don’t you, Rae?”

“I—”