“Oh, I won’t. Believe me. I fully intend for your brooding to scare the other girls away.”

My cheeks grow warm, so I change the subject, flustered. “What’s your favorite memory of something not including your parents or church or anything dramatic?”

She tilts her head. “I once scored near-perfect marks on my technical at Junior States. I’d debuted my triple lutz and added this super-complicated sit spin at the end that earned me top marks. Teddy bears covered the ice. It was big-time, major amazing.”

“You’re a figure skater?”

“Former. Though”—she gestures to the giant dome looming blocks ahead of us—“I hope to teach.”

“I bet you’d be great at that. Kids love you.”

She beams. “Mostly because I’m the same size as they are, I bet. How about you? Favorite memory?”

“Know Cash?”

She clutches her hands to her chest theatrically. “Love-of-my-life Cash?”

“Yeah, Cash. Well, I found him, or maybe he found me. Either way, one night, I was running along the lakeshore and it was too cold to listen to my phone, so I was without music for once. And I came up on a bunch of brush and heard this whimpering. It was Cash, all alone and half-dead. I put him in my shirt and ran all the way home with him against my heart. I had to bottle-feed him for weeks, but he made it. The crazy part was everything was a mess for me at the time. I was completely alone. I hadn’t met Duke yet. Everyone was ostracizing me at school. My mom was doing what she could, but she was so overwhelmed … and it was like here was this gift. This animal who needed me as much as I needed him. We’ve been together ever since.”

“That’s a good memory,” Meg says.

“One of the best.”

“Tell me something else. What is your favorite song?”

“‘Pieces’ by this band called Red?”

Meg nods. “I know them well. That’s a very telling song, Micah.”

I scratch at my neck. “Probably too telling. What’s yours?”

“It’s an oldie. ‘If You Wanna Be Happy’ by Jimmy Soul.”

A surprised laugh barks out. “The one about finding an ugly wife?”

“I can’t believe you know it! That’s the one!”

“It’s so sexist!”

She shrugs her slim shoulders. “It makes me happy.”

“Me, too, actually. It’s impossible not to be happy listening to it.”

“My mom and dad loved it. We would dance around the house to it when I was really little.”

I think about this for a quiet moment. I know things are bad for Meg and her parents now, but they haven’t always been. I’m glad for that. She has lots of nice memories, at least.

“Favorite season?” I ask.

“Winter.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. I love mittens.”

“It’s my favorite, too, but not because of mittens.”

“Least favorite food?” she asks.

“Salmon. Yours?”