“He made you deer jerky?” she said. “Maybe he likes you.”

“And iced tea. He made me tea.” We both found this hilarious. “Tracy Summer’s Sun Tea,” I said.

“That’s what he calls his spooge? Come here, bitch, take some of my sun tea in your mouth.”

We kept on laughing on our backs until we couldn’t breathe. Had to stop. Our laughing slowed to big hefty smiling exhales.

The grass was luscious and damp against my neck. Settling into calm breathing, I stared up at the black sky sprinkled with radioactive salt. “You never see this many stars in the city.” Stars pulsed closer, then away, sucking me in, and pulling away. The sky moved like a kaleidoscope, shifting in various shades of black.

“What is the worst thing you have ever done?” Desiree said, her voice’s fast-car vibrato gone. It was sad and velvety, an old Cadillac. It would take my secrets and drive them far away.

“I killed my sister.” The words came out easily. They didn’t hurt. The grass, the sky, Desiree’s warm skin touching mine: it was all forgiving.

“No, I don’t believe it,” she said softly.

“I watched her kick the stump away. I watched her hands claw her neck, trying to pry away the clothesline that was cutting into her neck, strangling her. I watched her legs kicking at the air. Her shoe fell off and her skin turned ashy blue. I could have put the tree stump back for her. I could have run to get help. There was time. It took a long time for her to die. They say it takes about two to four minutes. That’s what I’ve read. I was six, and I didn’t understand what she was doing. I thought my siblings were playing another joke on me—that they’d all jump out laughing any second—so I just stood there, barefoot, in the cold, wet grass, and watched her die.”

Her suicide had a slow-motion mystical quality to it, like it wasn’t real. Under the sugar maple where the wind rustled the glowing leaves, making them flicker like flames, in that early morning light, it felt theatrical and surreal. She’s playing a joke on me. They are all playing a joke on me. Just like with Roxy.

Desiree’s warm palms were on my wet cheeks, and she was pressing her soft lips to my forehead. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.” My heart and head felt light. I knew, but I didn’t.