As I drive away, Kendra waves at us. Cassie waves back. As if it were yesterday, I can picture all us kids playing Simple Simon one winter day in the playground, Kendra yelling louder than the rest of us put together. My scarf had red and green stripes.

I wonder what happened to that scarf.

*

I PARK the ATV in the shade of the trees at Rolf’s.

Floyd didn’t even have the decency to tell his six-year-old son that Kendra had phoned to say good-bye. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have felt so abandoned.

No way to untangle the hard knot of anger in my chest.

I say to Cassie, “We won’t tell anyone about meeting Kendra, okay?”

She nods. “She’s nice. Will you make me cookies with Smarties on top?”

“We’ll see.”

I knock on the door. Tully opens it. “You cut your hair!” she says, then blushes a fiery red.

Cassie says, waving the bag over the puppy’s head, “Presents, Caramel!”

I don’t say anything. Mostly I’m trying to keep my eyes off Tully’s skimpy tank top. I didn’t know she owned one.

Caramel’s bowl goes on the kitchen floor, filled with water; he ignores it, shaking the strip of rawhide, drooling on the linoleum, and growling. Tully says, “He can chew on it for five minutes, Cassie, then we’ll take him outdoors to play ball.”

“Where’s Marigold?” Cassie says.

“She’s not home.”

I feel like my collar’s too tight. I’m wearing a T-shirt. It doesn’t have a collar. “I’ll wait on the step,” I say, and escape. Behind the fire pit on the back lawn, Rolf has rigged a plastic line the width of their lot, with a rope dangling from it on a swivel. Marigold must have told him how Caramel ran away.

When Tully and Cassie come outside, Caramel on his leash, I say, “Cassie, you’ll have to play behind the house.”

“Why?” Tully asks.

Cassie pokes at the grass. I say, “I’m not supposed to bring her here.”

“Aren’t we good enough for you?”

She’s pulled a shirt over her tank top. Her hair’s so bright a guy could scald his hands. “Floyd doesn’t like us associating with the neighbors.”

“So he’s a snob. Big deal.”

“Tully, just do it, okay?”

With real curiosity, she says, “Do you always obey your father? Haven’t you heard about teenage rebellion?”

“I’m too busy looking after Cassie to have time to rebel. And I don’t see you kicking off the traces.”

The curiosity is still there, though, along with something else that’s harder to read.

She crouches beside Cassie. “Do you want to play behind the house?”