The day I turned fifteen, Tommy came by the house and brought me proper flowers, from a flower shop. “Happy birthday,” he said as he presented them to me. Then he took me out for our usual walk.

“How did you know it was my birthday?” I asked him when we were out of sight of the house.

“I found out.” He took my hand. “I’m trying hard to find out about you.”

I blushed, thinking it wasn’t that difficult.

“So,” he said, suddenly standing still. “What else do you want right now for your birthday?”

I looked up at him, unsure.

He leaned in, stopping with his mouth very close to mine. “I’d like to kiss you, if that would be okay.”

I nodded, swallowing fast. He pressed his lips to mine, his hat knocking against my forehead. He smelled clean, like when Mom dried freshly washed sheets on the line. After a few seconds, he pulled back and waited for me to look at him.

“Happy birthday, Miss Alexandra,” he said.

I think that was the moment I fell for him. Or it might have been later that evening. But the moment was there—real, and fluttery, and transitory—like everything when you’re only fifteen.

In the weeks after that birthday night, I thought more and more about what I’d seen Ruth doing in the field. We shared a room, and I lay awake each night long after she snuck back in smelling of booze and pot. She’d fall sleep quickly, but all I could think about was how reckless she was being. What if our parents found out about her and Hal? What if she got in trouble, the really big kind? I was sure we wouldn’t survive another family crisis, but I couldn’t ask her about it or warn her to stay away from Hal. All I got from her by then was derision. So one Friday night when I heard Dad’s rocking chair creaking on the front porch, I went down to join him. Mom was already asleep.

“Why are you sitting out here on your own?” I asked, curling up next to him in my nightgown.

The crickets screeched in the bushes. He sucked his teeth so his lips curled. “I’m waiting for your sister. Went out hours ago and hasn’t yet come back. I’m going to tan her hide and skin whatever rat of a boyfriend she’s with.”

I knew I shouldn’t say anything. I didn’t even want to, but I kept thinking about how Ruth had taken it upon herself to laugh at me and Tommy. Every breakfast, she asked if I’d had good dreams about him, as if she could see into my head and knew all my thoughts. She knew nothing. She had no idea what was in my head. She had no idea what I’d seen.