I popped a blueberry into my mouth. It was delicious.

“I would have gone with you,” I said.

“I was up super early, and I didn’t want to wake you,” they said, their voice oddly upbeat. “Let’s go back into town after we eat! It’s like a ten-minute walk, and there are some cool-looking places to check out. The bookstore should be open by then. What kind of pancake you want? Pick your poison.”

“Ummm,” I said. “One of each, I guess.”

They set about making me a plate while I replayed last night’s fight in my mind. I was floored, mostly, by the briefness of it: The whole episode had had a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it hallucinatory quality, and on top of that, there was this element that seemed staged—like I was watching an elaborate joke playing out, some sort of experimental stage-combat guerrilla theater. I’ll admit, I half expected people to burst into applause when it was all over.

And it wasn’t just the fight that was weird, but the after, too. Ros had disappeared. I looked for them inside and out. I finally found them tucked away by the rope swing, talking to Jess Orlando. It was just a conversation—they weren’t even doing anything—but still, I felt like I’d interrupted. Jess Orlando had her hand in a bag of frozen shrimp. They’d both stared at me with such intensity I felt like I’d startled wild animals: like the best thing to do was back away slowly.

“It’s funny,” I said. “I feel like on Power Jam there’s a fight every episode but, like, it was different, seeing it in real life.”

“I had the same thought,” said Ros. “It was kind of incredible.”

“Was it? It kind of freaked me out,” I said. “What was with the shrimp?”

“I found them in the freezer. I thought it might feel good on her hand,” Ros said.

“That was nice of you,” I said.

They shrugged. “It looked like it hurt.”

“Yeah, I imagine punching someone in the face is painful,” I said.

“You heard what he said. What he called her,” Ros said.

They handed me a stack of pancakes and a frog-patterned cloth napkin. They looked beautiful. Both the pancakes and Ros.

“This reminds me of your dad,” I said, looking at my plate.

“A bit,” Ros said.

“I know it’s been a while now, but I’m still here if you ever want to talk about it,” I said.

I watched their face darken.

“Or not,” I said.

“Sorry—it’s just, I feel like we’ve talked ourselves into oblivion about my dad. I’m more than ready to move on,”’ said Ros. “Let’s go sit.”