All of this is to say that Mickey had always been fascinated by the restrictions of her own edges.

She took out all the objects from the Altoids tin one at a time, lining them along the side of the sink just like Ruth had. The alcohol swab, the cloth with the razor inside. I could practically see her heart beating, as if her blood smelled the metal and had started banging from within.

There is no high like making the dangerous choice.

Mickey glanced out the window and saw Ruth climbing the hill back to the house. Her hand shook, and the tin slipped into the sink. She gasped and pressed her fingers into the drain. If any of the pills went missing, Ruth would know she had gone through her stuff. She would know that Mickey wanted more of that razor’s feeling, and, even worse than that, she wanted it alone.

Mickey watched Ruth shake out her towel and hang it over the porch railing as she swept her other hand along the basin, but there was nothing but sink. She pulled her hand up slowly and checked again. Nothing. There was no way all the pills could’ve gone down the drain; she caught the tin too quickly. Where were they? She couldn’t remember seeing them in the tin when she opened it, but she wasn’t sure. And anyway, why would they all be gone? They had to be there. Mickey turned over the tin and brought it up to her face, examining the corners. She unfolded the cloth, smoothing it along the creases.

But then she heard the screen door open as Ruth came back into the house, and she was out of time.

I watched Mickey gather the contents back up, putting each item back as she had found it. She ran the sharp edge of the razor along her thumb for just an instant before snapping the tin shut.

MICKEY

“HAVE YOU NEVER BRUSHED this?” Ruth asked as she pulled on Mickey’s scalp.

“I can do it,” Mickey said, but Ruth swatted her hand away.

“Just hold still.”

Ruth’s nails parted Mickey’s hair like a tractor, and Mickey kept her breath shallow, scared she might spook Ruth’s touch away. She thought about people who tame wild animals, but she knew she wasn’t in that category. She had no interest in taming. Quite the opposite. She was the one there to learn.

She was still shaking from the closeness of getting caught with Ruth’s Altoids tin, still a little ashamed that she wanted so badly to do it again—alone, this time—and a little buzzed on the secret itself.

“So, tell me, how long have you liked Josh?”

Mickey held still, her eyes closed. Ruth’s fingers were cold, answered prayers against her sun-and-thrill-burned scalp.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know. Kind of forever.”

“Aww!” Ruth cooed. “The boy next door!”

“Shut up.”