We stretch and bow, and I give him back the bandages. On the way out the door, he passes me a slip of paper. “Memorize these by Thursday. I call them the five principles of the dojo.”

Seek perfection of character Be faithful Endeavour Respect others Refrain from violent behavior

Like, I should just pass the paper to Floyd.

8.2 [kumite (sparring)]

CARAMEL GREETS me as if I’m his best buddy, his rump wriggling, his nose butting my ankles. As I bend over to pat him, tears suddenly blur my vision.

It’s Docker’s fault, him and his frigging kiai. Emotions are best kept six feet under, the same place they put Thaddeus—I learned that the first time Floyd hit me. I turn my back and pat Caramel some more, blinking like crazy.

If I hadn’t been feeding Wilbur, encouraging him to hang around our place, he might still be alive.

When I finally stand up, Cassie’s tucking into a salad as though she eats lettuce every day of the week, Rover propped on a stool next to her. Marigold fills my plate and Tully, as usual, ignores me. Rolf’s eyes flick to my haircut; he rubs the bald spot on his scalp and winks at me.

Hoping I sound halfway normal, I say, “I’m mowing the grass for Della Barnes, Rolf—told her you’d give her a reference if she wants one.”

“I was planning on cutting her grass,” Tully snaps, “now that I’m not babysitting the Zwicker twins.”

I scowl at her. “How was I to know?”

She scowls back. I shovel in some tuna casserole, which has crumbs and grated cheese baked crisp on the top.

Another thing that helps AQ is eating.

By the time the meal’s over, I could put my head down on the table and fall asleep. “Thanks a lot, Marigold—it’s great I don’t have to go home and cook supper.”

“Doesn’t your mother feed you?” Tully says rudely.

“She’s works. So she’s out a lot.”

Rolf drawls, “You two scrap like stray cats.”

It doesn’t seem to bother him. Amazing.

Before I climb on the ATV, I say to Cassie, “If Floyd asks, we ate at McDonald’s.”

“Chicken fingers,” Cassie says.

“Right. Chicken fingers.”

He doesn’t ask because his full attention is on the Monet puzzle, his hand hovering over the array of pieces that make up the pale turquoise water. I stop, gazing down at them. They’re all funny shapes.

“The lilies were easy,” Floyd says. “But the rest is a real challenge.”

A piece jumps out at me. “Can I?”

“Fill your boots.”

So I pick up the piece and bingo, it fits neat as can be into two adjoining pieces.

“Good job,” Floyd says, as casually as if he says this to me every day of the week.