Macey wiggled her toes. Austin wiggled his. They had a little toe conversation, and it turned out that Austin could wave good-bye with his little toe. Macey had to move all her toes or none.

“Take off your shoes, Grace,” Austin invited her.

“I’m your chaperone,” said Grace. “Chaperones keep their shoes on.”

Austin poured mud out of his sneakers and stuffed his wet socks inside them. “This is that barn foundation you were talking about, isn’t it, Macey?”

She nodded.

He said, “I asked my mother what she remembered about the fire.”

Austin never referred to his parents. Macey remembered her assignments from Nana and Grace. But when she looked at Aus, his stocky frame meant for lifting and hauling, his wide face with its calm, wide expression, as if he could take more than most people, she knew she was not going to ask him. Whatever had happened was his property.

“She couldn’t think of anything,” he said. “She was too young.”

“Well, I found out some stuff. Get this. Not only was there a teacher living here, but he was the first black teacher ever hired in this town.”

“And the barn burned down around him?” asked Grace. “I could draw a conclusion from that.”

“Me too,” said Macey. “Neighborhood legend, which I am unable to verify, is that it was arson and the guy was trapped inside. I’m going to find out. I’m going to do that for my history project.”

“Ugh,” said Grace. “I hate stories like that. Pick something nice.”

“My feet are too cold to sit any longer,” said Austin, getting up.

Macey didn’t want him to walk away; she wanted to live with him. “Papa turned the water on,” she said, heading for their house. “We can hose our shoes down.”

“In my part of town,” said Grace, “we keep our shoes free of mud to start with.”

Macey scooped some mud off the bottom of her shoe and flung a little Grace’s way. They had been good friends for a long time. Grace just laughed. She knew perfectly well that Macey would aim to miss.

Outside showers and spigots were turned off for the winter so pipes wouldn’t freeze. April water, however, would certainly feel like ice. Macey and Austin carried their muddy shoes to the side of the house and held them under the faucet. It was hopping cold on their toes. They dried their bare feet on the grass and went inside, tossing shoes and socks onto the chaos of the porch.

Macey almost asked Aus about his collections, his junk and piles of stuff, but stopped in time. You couldn’t fit history into a suitcase. Poor Aus! she thought. For his sake, she spent a moment or two hating his parents for whatever they’d done wrong.

Grace whispered, “Why don’t I bail out and leave you two alone?”