Apparently, when my great-grandfather built this cabin with his brother way back in the olden days, safety wasn’t a big concern. My mom likes to say, “It’s hardly up to code,” whatever that means. All I know is that I was putting my life in my hands every time I took those stairs.

Thankfully, we made it to the bottom. Colette and I tiptoed across the main common space, knowing one of five adults—Mom, Charles, Aunt Maureen, Uncle Bran, or Grandpa—could appear from the darkened hallway at any moment and tell us to go back to bed. Worse, we could wake up Kennedy’s preschooler brother, Kane, and he’d cry, and then we’d really be in for it.

Relief washed over me when my flip-flop hit the gravel driveway outside.

“Here,” I said, grabbing the bug spray from the back-porch step and aiming it at my friend. “Otherwise, the horseflies will eat us for a late-night snack.”

I shivered, thinking of the angry welts on my legs, then doused Colette in the terrible-smelling spray.

“Use a lot,” I said, handing her the can.

Coughing through the cloud, we made our way toward the field next to the cabin. We got settled on the boulder big enough for two, both of us hugging our bare knees since it’d gotten cold after the sun went down, staring up at the biggest sky I’d ever seen. It wasn’t just above but all around us, a pitch-black background dotted with billions of stars. I felt like I was in a night-sky snow globe.

“I’m really glad my parents let me come with you guys,” Colette said. “Pinedale is the coolest.”

“I don’t know about the coolest.” I laughed, talking easily with Colette. She was probably the only person I talked that easily with. “Cities that have art galleries and restaurants and stuff are cool. I’d like to go to New York someday. Or Washington, DC. This town only has like four hundred more people than ours.”

I meant our home of Long Beach, Washington. In a way, because no big companies had messed with either and they’re both pretty far from major cities, Pinedale and Long Beach are similar. But Pinedale’s more “Wild West” and surrounded by mountains and lakes, while Long Beach has more of a beach vibe since it’s on the Pacific Ocean.

“Frankie told you the population, didn’t she?”

“Natch,” I said with a laugh. Frankie loves facts.

I looked around at the nothingness and listened to the crickets and breathed the sagebrush and felt calmed by it all. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty great here.”

“It’s too bad Frankie doesn’t think so.”