The broken pieces remind me of Grammy’s puzzles. Although I’ve never understood the point of puzzles—and why you’d sit for hours trying to put a picture that’s been broken into hundreds of pieces back together. Plus, when you have the cover, you know exactly what you’ll get in the end.

I guess I am sort of like a pile of puzzle pieces that have been dumped on the floor. But I can’t put the pieces together because I don’t know what the picture on the box is. I don’t know who I am—or how many pieces I might be missing. And since Aimee shone a light on something that was in front of me all this time, it makes me wonder what else I’m not seeing.

Looking at the broken pieces, I feel broken, too.

Chapter 5

OLIVE OIL

Our neighborhood is at the end of a dirt road that most people think is a driveway. It’s lollipop shaped, with the road being the stick that leads to a circle of four houses—three that are lived in and one that’s been empty for years.

We have shade all year from scrub pines that look like the crooked trees in a Dr. Seuss book. But in the middle of the circle is a regular pine tree that towers over everything else. It’s called Olive’s Tree after one of our neighbors, though I don’t know why, other than that she loves it and has been here longer than any of us.

Finally, there is a sign as you enter our little neighborhood that says NO DUMPING, and as you leave, a faded, moldy sign reads THANK YOU.

Grammy says it means “thank you for having visited.”

Olive says it means “thank you for leaving.”

Now Olive is standing at our door.

Olive Tinselly reminds me of a hurricane. Spinning and stormy and gaining strength as she barrels forth. But like the eye of the storm, she has times when she is calm. Even sunny. On Olive’s stormy days, Grammy says we need to be extra good to her. That she’s had a lot of loss and sadness. But Olive doesn’t seem sad to me. She just seems angry.

When I open the door, I can tell by the shape of her mouth that it’s a stormy day. “Is your grammy at home?”

Grammy gets up from her puzzle and steps next to me. “Hello there, Olive. Beautiful evening,” she says like she’s letting Olive know.

“We have to do something about Henry,” she spits. “This time he’s gone too far.”

What? I wonder. Gone too far? Henry?

“Did you see what he’s done?”

“Well, jeepers crow, Olive,” Grammy says. “With Esme off caring for her father and him working full-time and taking care of Ruby by himself, I can’t imagine he’s had time to do anything that would cause any harm.”

“Come see with your own eyes, then!”

I hear lovely clinking sounds as we step outside. Mrs. Tinselly points up into a tree in Henry’s yard and snaps, “Look at that! I think he’s lost his mind for real this time. Why would anyone do such a crazy thing?”