As was usual on a weekday, the street was deserted. Only Bonnie and Chris, along with Pear and Apple, were standing at the edge of the Stantons’ driveway and Lucy approached them. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Tommy Stanton tried to kill himself,” whispered Bonnie.

Lucy wasn’t surprised, she realized, which meant that on some level she’d been expecting Tommy to do something like this.

“When they got back from the funeral I went over to see if there was anything I could do for them. I was there when Preston went in his room and found him.”

“How awful,” breathed Lucy.

“He was barely alive,” replied Bonnie. “They’re still working on him, trying to resuscitate him.”

“What did he take?” asked Chris, who had Apple on her hip and was pushing Pear back and forth in her stroller.

“Nothing. He hung himself.”

Lucy was sick with horror—and guilt. She’d sensed Tommy’s desperation and unhappiness, but she hadn’t actually given it much thought. She was like a person who hears a gunshot and thinks it’s a car backfiring.

Chris gave Apple a squeeze and buried her nose in her soft, blond hair. “The funeral must have been too much for him.”

Lucy remembered the night she’d given him Gatorade and how grateful he’d been for such a small kindness. She wished they’d insisted he get in the car when they passed him on the road after Sue’s cookout and she couldn’t put the image of his skinny, hunched body out of her mind. He’d looked so fragile and alone then. Maybe if they’d reached out to him it would have been enough to tip the balance and he wouldn’t have felt so desperate.

“I hope he makes it,” she said.

“It’s in God’s hands,” said Bonnie.

“God and the rescue squad,” said Chris. It seemed a long time before the porch door opened and a couple of EMTs emerged pushing and pulling a stretcher. Tommy’s prone figure was hooked up to an IV and his face was uncovered.

“He’s alive at least,” said Bonnie, echoing Lucy’s thoughts.

She knew those were good signs and she hoped Tommy was out of the woods. At the same time, she feared he might have suffered irreversible brain damage. They continued to watch as the stretcher containing his motionless body was loaded into the ambulance and Lucy’s mind flashed back to a similar scene the day his mother died.

“The rescue squad is here too often,” she said.

“It’s always the Stantons,” said Bonnie, a hint of resentment in her voice.

“They sure are unlucky,” said Chris.