Grandma put us on cleaning duty that afternoon, vacuuming and sweeping and dusting the whole house. At least all the parts of it that weren’t off-limits. She split Murphy and me up, sending me downstairs and Murphy upstairs. It wasn’t hard work, just tedious, but I didn’t mind. My thoughts were reeling and scattered, so many questions running through my head about what had happened in town, about the Urquharts, about Jeremiah, about everything. By the time night fell, I was happy to be done with my work, hoping maybe Grandma could give me some answers.

But Grandma seemed annoyed and distracted, her whole beaming, glowing mood from earlier in the day vanished and gone. Something about the Urquharts had gotten to her, spoiled her glorious day. I wanted to ask about them, about the symbol that old lady had drawn in the dirt, but Grandma wasn’t much in the answering-questions mode. She fretted about the kitchen, ignored our questions, and mumbled to herself like maybe she was praying.

So we had a quiet night. I knew Murphy had about as many questions as I did, but she wasn’t saying much, and I didn’t push her. I could tell she’d been annoyed with me ever since we’d gotten back from town.

After dinner, Murphy and I washed up and went upstairs. She sat on her bunk and chewed her lip, her face all scrunched up in concentration. I climbed up to my bunk and lay down. After a minute, Murphy spoke up.

“Something’s wrong here, Lee,” she said.

“You mean about the Urquharts?”

“Yeah, them too,” she said. “But I mean all of it. The Farm, Grandma, the town, everything. Are we supposed to go to school here? Or will Grandma just homeschool us like Mom did, keep us trapped on the Farm until we die? I don’t even know if I want to go to school in Benign. That whole thing at the grocery store was just too fucking weird.”

“I’ll be honest,” I said. “I kind of enjoyed it. I mean, it was like we were famous or something.”

“No,” she said, “it was like you were famous. You and Grandma. Nobody gave a shit about me.”

When I thought about it, that seemed kind of true. Sure, everybody had been nice to Murphy, shaking her hand and all that, but it was me they had been staring at. I wondered why they would ever give me preference over her. Nothing like that had ever happened to me back home. I mean, I was always a loser, the weirdest and worst. It was Murphy who everybody loved. If the people of Benign, Louisiana, took a liking to me, well, I wasn’t going to complain.

But I couldn’t tell Murphy that. She’d be pissed.

“They seemed like nice people to me,” I said.

Murphy laughed.