After Betsy died, Thomas remembers Tess talking about feeling an inexplicable hatred toward toddlers, especially little girls. She would see them at the park or in a store toddling unsteadily with arms stretching upward toward their mothers, and turn away bitterly. Of course it didn’t make sense, but nothing about losing a child makes sense. Eventually, Tess’s aversion faded but it took time.

Perhaps Mara feels this way. An irrational anger at the girl who left, the girl who escaped the attack, or maybe Mara knows more. Thomas prods Jordyn with a finger and she takes a few steps closer to her friend.

“Does it hurt?” Jordyn asks shyly.

“Yeah.” The conversation stalls. Jordyn shifts from foot to foot and Cora stares down at her bedcovers.

“Do they know who did it?” Jordyn asks bluntly.

“No, not yet,” Cora says, running her fingers over the purple cast. “I don’t remember much.” He could be imagining it, but Thomas is sure that he sees Jordyn’s shoulders relax.

“Jordyn, the gift,” Thomas prompts.

Jordyn, remembering the present in her hand, holds the bag out to Cora. “We got you this. It’s nothing much,” she says as Cora reaches into the bag, retrieves the card and clumsily tries to open the envelope with her good hand. “Let me help,” Jordyn says and takes the card. She slides a finger beneath the envelope’s seal and pulls out the card.

“She looks like Skittles,” Cora says, smiling weakly.

“Cora,” Mara says with a hint of dismay.

Cora sets aside the card and plunges her hand into the bag through the tissue paper and pulls out the bracelet-making kit. “Thank you,” she says. “I love it.”

“You’re welcome,” Jordyn says proudly but then her grin falls away. “Your arm. You won’t be able to put the beads on the string.”

“That’s all right,” Cora consoles. “We can make them together. Do you want to sign my cast?” Using a black Sharpie marker, Jordyn signs her name across the fiberglass cast.

“When we’re back at school, I can help carry your books and stuff if you want,” Jordyn offers as the two girls examine the box of beads while Thomas and Mara look on.

“That would be great.” Cora gives a half smile and then winces at the pain.

“Have you talked to Violet yet?” Jordyn asks, picking at the tape that seals the box.

“No, not yet,” Cora says, a twinge of sadness in her words. “Have you?”

“I haven’t, either,” Jordyn says, pulling out a plastic bag filled with jewel-colored beads. “What colors do you like?” she asks.

“The purple ones. To match my cast. Which colors do you want yours to be?”

“Blue, I think,” Jordyn says and the two busy themselves with sorting the beads into piles.