“I know.” Lately Peaches felt like she knew everything. It was not a good way to feel. It irritated her that she had all the answers and everyone else seemed so lost. She was also quite drunk and very high, which skewed things slightly. “I walked my dog by your house that time. Our dog died. He was a hundred years old.”

“I need to cross the street,” Mandy commanded. “There’s a tunnel attached to the slide in the school playground. I’m going to get inside it.”

“Seriously?” Peaches said, but Mandy was already crossing the street.

It was dark now. They peered through the schoolyard fence. The red metal tunnel had survived the fire and remained intact. Trees rustled their dry leaves. The clear, cool November air smelled of smoke from the neighborhood fireplaces.

Mandy led them into the schoolyard, ducked under the police tape, and dove headfirst into the tunnel. It was half the length of her body. She lay on her back with her knees sticking out, her feet on the ground, and sighed contentedly. “It’s cozy in here.”

“I could use some of these,” Elizabeth said, holding a blue firework in place while Tupper lit it.

Tupper felt like he was on vacation. He’d spent so much time alone with Elizabeth, it was a relief to be out with her amongst his neighbors and friends. He’d thought she might scare people, especially after birthing herself out of a smelly sac of goo and then going to prison, but Elizabeth was as much a part of Cobble Hill as Roy and Wendy. If anything, the neighborhood was proud to claim her.

They backed away and the firework shot into the air, exploding into a series of smaller Roman candle–like bursts that went off in rapid succession, hung like blue stars in midair, and then swayed slowly earthward.

“We could do a fireworks show together,” Tupper suggested excitedly as he lit the next one. “Maybe up at Bard. Over the Hudson. With lemmings.”

This is what separates my work from his, Elizabeth thought. He always reverts to cute rodents or exotic birds.

“Maybe,” she responded with effort.

She’d thought she would stay or take him with her, but she couldn’t. He was happy here. This was where he’d done his best work. He’d earned a MacArthur. And her best work was done separately, elsewhere.

“Who wants to light the red one?” Roy called out. He’d lost track of Wendy while he was helping Stuart Little hunt for his skateboard. They weren’t done talking. It was all right that she hadn’t read his books. Join the club. And it was all right that she’d been fired from her job if she hated it anyway. Tonight was supposed to be romantic. He and Wendy had gotten engaged on Bonfire Night, a million years ago. She should light the red one.