I poured a glass of water and leaned against the counter. Next to the sideboard the garbage was full of old coffee grounds and silver cans and food scraps like rice and peas and broccoli stems and a thick blob of grits that Fellis had nuked too long, and on top of it all was a red liquid. I could smell the garbage, but it smelled sweet like the sugar Beth put in her tomato sauces. I finished the water and set my glass in the sink.

I took the garbage outside to the bins. I washed what little dishes there were—two plates, four cups, several spoons and forks and butter knives with peanut butter glued to the blade—and I set them to dry on a damp white towel. Dishes were a small price to pay when you spent so much time at someone’s house.

I went down the hall and used the bathroom, and when I came out and into the kitchen, Fellis seemed to be looking for something.

“You seen my smokes?” he said, and I told him no.

Fellis leaned over the table and pulled the note to himself, and then he went to the sink and then to the garbage.

“I did them,” I said. “Took the gabage out too.”

“Fuck you, I can’t spell.”

“Go get that Redbox movie so we can take it back.”

Fellis went up the hall to his room, and I hollered after him. “And then we’ll go get those meds!” It was well past lunchtime, and they’d be ready.

Once we left the house, the phone rang again, and it really set Fellis off. “You better call her later,” he said to me. “I don’t want her blowing up the phone all fucking day.” He went to the phone and hung it up. Then he took it off the hook so nobody could call.

We hopped in Einhell—Fellis drove, even though I told him he shouldn’t—and we went to Indian Health Services on the rez for the meds. Fellis didn’t say much—he said he had a headache, and while he drove he leaned his head against the window.

At IHS he parked the truck and got out. He walked to the maroon building and then disappeared through the doors that used to open automatically but no longer did. He wasn’t in there but thirty seconds before he came back out and said that the pharmacy had faxed both meds up to Save ’n Shop.

“We gotta go there anyway,” I said.

The day grew red hot, and the closer we got to the head of the Island the stronger the scent became. The caterpillars cooked in the sun. The smell was worse at this time of day. People were usually out walking, but nobody was down this way except us.

Fellis passed the first sign that flashed “Caution,” and he drove the truck with one hand on the wheel while he put the other over his nose. The smell was worse than ever. I buried my face in my shirt. The road looked to be moving under us, and I wondered if Fellis put the truck in park and we sat there unmoving, whether the thousands of caterpillars would lift us up and carry Einhell on their backs to our destination.