His face splits into a smile. Two teeth are missing. “That’ll probably be fine, then.” He turns and shouts over his shoulder. “Mom! Can I go visit Kyle’s mom?”

She turns from the group of blonde mothers and nods, hardly making eye contact before turning back to her friends and their conversation.

I feel a tug in my heart, not unlike the one at my ankle. “Go give her a hug.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s your mom.”

He shrugs and jogs across the sand, into the grass and shade where the moms gather like driftwood. He circles her neck with his arms, and she smiles, kisses his hair.

Andrew helps me lift the tire from the sand.

“Heavy,” he says. “Aren’t these supposed to float?”

“They don’t,” I say. “They go straight to the bottom.”

***

“Hiss, no way that’s gonna hold.”

I’m wrapping my tangled fish line around a tree branch. “It’s made to catch river monsters. It can handle you.” The tire swings from the other end of the line.

“Monsters?”

“Like really big fish.”

“Oh, I caught one of those.” He waves his hand, bats away a few flies. His shoes are tied together by the laces and tossed over his shoulder. His jeans are rolled to the knee, but already starting to slip. Brackish water wicks up the fabric, creeping up his legs.

I can see, from up the tree, the flash of Kyle’s mother’s sweater hidden in the reeds of the shallows. Andrew doesn’t see her. He only has eyes for the swing.

He splashes through the shallow water and steadies the swaying swing. “You’re right about the water. Not too deep at all.”

“Genny says it’s hardly even a pond.”

“What is it, then?”

“She says it’s a drain.” I hadn’t understood her when I was younger. I do now.

Andrew shakes his head. “Naw, it’s a puddle.”

“Puddles dry up. And you can’t lose things in a puddle.”

“You lost something, Hiss?” He bends down and peers into the water. “My dad says I can find anything.”

“Not me, no. Some have, though.” The knot is tight enough. I pull on it, testing the line. It slides sharp across my palms.

“What did they lose?”

“Everything.” I leap from the branch into the water.

The splash soaks Andrew. He spits out brown water.

“Hiss, gross!”

“What’s the matter?”

“Fish pee in this water!”

“There are worse things in this water.” He’s staring at my face, and I realize I’m smiling.

“Your teeth are green,” he says.

I cup a hand over my mouth.

“Don’t you brush?”

I shrug. “Got no one to make me.”

He nods and resumes picking at the rubber of the tire.

“Are you ready?” With my ankle free of the line, I can feel the blood rushing back into it. My toes almost feel warm.