“Swear, swear. Imagine if I put you in a box. Hey, Magic Boy? How would you like that? Think about it. Locked inside a tiny space and you can’t get out. You feel all around your hideaway and there’s no door. You can touch the ceiling.”

I shook my head.

“Workers come in twos!” he bellowed. “Workers only come in twos. That’s an irrefutable fact. Is it? Is it? You called them to the bridge. Them. You sent a signal. You are the exception. You are the exception.”

I rolled over, squeezed my eyes closed. I didn’t want to be at the cottage anymore. I wanted to be home. With Maisy. With Chicken. With Gloria and Telly.

“Stan is watching!” he screamed. I heard him spit, the splatter hitting the floor. Then the floor rumbled from a smash. The television struck only inches from my head. I slit open one eye. Carl’s face was right there. I could smell the oil on his skin. Stale tomato sauce on his breath.

“Stan is watching you now,” he whispered.

When I looked at Carl the muscles all over my body began to quiver. I could see Stan. I knew I could. Stan was vast. Red, red, red in Carl’s sky. There he was. Seeping out from the inside.

Then Carl said in a strange soft voice, “Let’s go for a boat ride, Magic Boy.”

“Now? It—it’s late, Carl.”

“Now. It’s late.”

I don’t think he was echoing me that time.

I stood up. My legs were like jelly.

“Go ahead of me,” Carl said.

“Sure, Carl. Sure.”

With the brightness from the moon, I managed to walk down to the dock. Behind me I could hear Girl’s nails clipping the wood and Carl’s feet dragging. As he stepped past me into the rowboat, it rocked back and forth. He pressed the side of the boat to the dock, held it there, steadied it for Girl. Then steadied it for me. When I saw him do that, making things safer, I thought maybe, just maybe, everything would be all right. We were just going to enjoy the water, the view of the bright full moon perched over the trees. Carl did seem calmer. He was like that, his moods flipping one way and then back again.

We sat opposite each other, our knees almost touching, and he rowed us out into the lake. I listened to the oars sliding into the smooth water, lifting, sliding in again. A splash hit Girl in the face, and she shook, her wet ears slapping. Droplets splattered my face, and I cried out. Good-naturedly, though. Or so I hoped.

“Does it hurt your hands, Carl?” The words were sticking in my throat. “Do you want me to row?”