I thanked her again wholeheartedly. Despite the fact that Mrs. Robinson had given me instructions in a matter-of-fact way that made me think that my task the next day would be quite straightforward, I was still keenly aware that this might be the last time we’d ever speak. “I’m so lucky to have met you, Mrs. Robinson. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have your advice.”

After a moment, Mrs. Robinson replied, “You’d do your best, child. That’s what we’re all doing, all of the time. The best we can.”

For the rest of the afternoon, I dodged my mom’s requests that I help out around the house by instead collecting the bizarre items that Mrs. Robinson had specified. Animal blood, red brick dust, rum and cornmeal. And, of course, drums.

Getting my hands on animal blood was the easiest of all, given that Glenn was a veterinarian who did house calls. When he’d moved into our house temporarily, he’d brought with him his minifridge for storing samples and vaccinations. As I stashed a small sample vial in the top drawer of my dresser, I prayed that Glenn wouldn’t notice it missing in the next twenty hours. I really had no idea how I would ever explain myself if Mom found that in my room.

Then I vacuumed the living room and hallway so that my mom would stop nagging me for a little while, and texted Henry to see if there was any chance his parents had a bottle of rum in the house.

HENRY 2:19 P.M.

Yeah, of course. My mom loves dark & stormies.

Without providing a reason, I asked him to bring a thermos or water bottle full of rum to the Portnoys’ memorial the next day. He agreed, and texted me back again to see if I wanted to hang out and talk through the plan, but I couldn’t find the words to reply. My feelings toward Henry were as impossible to sort through as different colors of glitter combined. I very much wanted to hang out with him and lock down our plan for the next day, but at the same time, I didn’t want to see him at all—because I wasn’t sure how I’d feel around him after having seen Trey earlier that morning.

The truth was, I didn’t want to feel anything at all except platonic affection for Henry, and I wasn’t sure that would be the case.

So I didn’t text back. Eventually, I would have to speak with Henry or see him in person to explain the role he’d have to play at Gundarsson’s. But I wasn’t ready, not just yet.

Cornmeal. In a lot of other people’s houses, there might have been a Tupperware canister of it in the pantry, or a dusty, unopened bag at the back of a cabinet. But my mom was not the type to randomly be inspired to whip up a pan of corn bread from scratch. Fortunately, cornmeal was an easy enough thing to purchase at the grocery store; it was by far the simplest remaining prop on Mrs. Robinson’s list to obtain. So I mentally set that requirement aside.