Fellis opened the front door. Beth stood at the stove, laughing while Alice shook her head, proud of something she’d said. Lily sat at the scratched kitchen table, her head propped up by her hand, bored out of her nine-year-old skull.

“What you cooking?” Fellis said.

Beth was too busy laughing to answer.

“I bet his jeckin smells like garbage too,” Alice said.

Beth stirred a white ladle in a metal pot. “The council’s going to evict him,” she said.

“It isn’t hurting anyone,” Alice said. “If he wants to live in filth, let him.”

“Who you talking about?” Fellis said. I leaned on the wall.

“That Nelson and all his garbage.” Beth took out a pan. Melting yellow butter slid and pooled.

“Say hi to your cousin, Lil,” Alice said.

Lily turned and said hi real quick.

“Where you been?” Beth said.

“Nowhere important,” Fellis said, and then he took the pink iPod from his pocket. “I got you a present, Lil.”

Beth and Alice watched as Fellis handed the pink iPod to Lily.

“Where did you get this?” Lily said.

“Was out walking this morning,” Fellis said. “Found it in the woods.”

Lily turned it on. “This is mine,” she said.

“Yeah, I know,” Fellis said. “I’m giving it to you.”

Lily stood. “No,” she said. “This is actually mine.”

“I’m sure it’s different,” Alice said. “Let me see.” She held it, looked it over. “Didn’t yours have stickers on it?”

“Yeah, but look,” Lily said. “You can see where they were peeled off.”

Beth left the stove and looked over Alice’s shoulder at the iPod. “I don’t see any sticker marks,” Beth said.

Lily reached across the table and traced with her finger. “Right there,” she said. “See?”

“No,” Beth said. She returned to the sink and washed her hands. “I don’t see anything.”

Lily pestered her mom for headphones.

The pan sizzled and spit hot and Beth rested two moose medallions in the pan. “Can you chop some wood?” she said to Fellis.

“In a bit,” he said, and he started for his room.

Fellis’s door didn’t have a doorknob. It broke, and since Beth didn’t like anyone coming into her house—the boxes, the student papers, the dirty dishes—she wouldn’t call Housing to come and fix it. She’d asked Fellis to fix it, but all he did was tie a checkered scarf around the hole so the cloth held the door shut.

Fellis opened his dresser and grabbed an unopened pack of cigarettes. He sat on his made bed and scooted back.

I took out the bottle of pills, shook them, and sang Native gibberish but stomped each foot twice real good, and then I set the bottle on the dresser. I sat in the beanbag chair in the corner.

“You think he’s going to tell his uncle about us?” Fellis asked.

I shrugged. “Probably not.”