My hand feels in my pants pocket out of habit, reaching for the little stone, before I remember it’s gone.

“It’s a real art, cutting stone. You have to be patient and follow the lines in the granite, your grandfather used to say.”

When Nana and I walk back down the hill, there’s a car I don’t recognize in the driveway. It’s bright orange. Charlotte Rose is sitting in the driver’s seat and waves at me to come over.

I get in the front seat. Her long hay-colored hair is tied back in a ponytail. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel. When she turns to talk to me, I notice for the first time that she has mossy eyes like Mom and Birdie and me.

It takes a long time for her to explain what happened. When she’s done, she asks if I want to go with her.

“Your parents are willing to let you go. Mr. Ronnie really wants to see you, but it’s up to you.”

“Yes, but you’re sure it wasn’t Mr. Ronnie who threw the brick?”

Charlotte Rose already said that, but I want to be very sure. One hundred percent sure.

“No, he didn’t. He’ll tell you himself.”

She starts the car, and the radio comes on at the same time. We head up Bower Hill toward town.

“You’re not going to arrest him?”

“Do I look like I’m going to arrest anyone? No police car, no uniform, no handcuffs. This is going to be a friendly visit.”

Charlotte Rose has a plastic troll with orange hair hanging from the rearview mirror on a chain.

“Mr. Ronnie tried to take a piece of the meteorite,” I remind her.

“I know. He’s not going to be trying that again. By the way, what’s happening with your space rock? I heard you turned down that reward but now some bigwig scientist from New York City is interested in taking it.”

“He’s interested IN it, not in TAKING it,” I explain.

We pass the 25 mph speed limit sign in town, and the speedometer pointer goes to 40 mph as we round the corner. Charlotte Rose pulls up in front of Mr. Ronnie’s store.