“But couldn’t a priest come to see what’s going on, maybe start the process?” He slid off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes. The purple circles under his lashes were so much worse than her own; they were practically bruises, as if he’d been punched by life.

“We’ll do everything we can. But involving the church includes a lot of red tape. It’s our last resort. My parents are still the best option.”

“Yeah, if they were here.” Maxwell grunted.

From behind the oak trees, a gaggle of voices climbed up. Kick it! Get ready! Come on! A whistle screeched.

“I heard my mom’s voice last night begging for my help.” Maxwell’s tone sounded broken, as though he’d relived the moment a lot.

“We’re going to help her. I promise.” Could she promise that?

A burst of clapping rang out from the trees. Go, Jack! Get there! Hustle! The voices overlapped, echoing against the bubbling surface of the water. A music-box jingle from an ice cream truck joined the cacophony, eliciting the Pavlovian response of salivation from anyone under the age of eighteen. Vera’s cheeks puckered as she pictured hands slipping into wallets—Okay, just one. Here’s five dollars. Simple. Normal. Happy.

“You know what I can’t get out of my head? The way my mom looked.” Maxwell’s burned-out gaze turned her way. “It’s weird, but since this all started happening, my mom has never looked better. It makes no sense, because she’s not showering—like, at all—but still, she’s glowing.”

“Well, she’s beautiful,” Vera agreed.

“She is. But last night, when you were there, she looked…”

Grotesque, Vera thought, but she didn’t say it. Neither did he. “How did she look this morning?”

“Like she could walk a red carpet.” He flung up his hands. “Some friend stopped by to see her, and I claimed she was sick, but really she was sleeping. Actually, she was snoring like a bulldog, which she never did before. But even asleep, she looked perfect. It’s like she’s morphing.”

“I know.”

Mr. Gonzalez looked similar with his rotten teeth and swelling pupils. How had she forgotten to tell her mother about him?

A shriek rang out from downstream, and Maxwell’s chest leaned toward the sound, toward his friends. He tugged on his hat as laughter cartwheeled along the water.

“We should have invited you to the creek,” he blurted. “I should have invited you.”

Vera didn’t move, his words rounding out a jagged little piece of her heart. She’d spent her last day of school in solitude under a tree, like she had so many Saturdays and Sundays before. She often avoided going downtown, because it was lonely seeing classmates you’ve known your whole life hanging out in groups who never considered inviting you.

“Thank you for that.” She bit back a surge of emotion.

“It’s true. We’re idiots. All of us. Some worse than others.” His tone turned heavy. “And honestly, the creek’s not so great. There are a lot of days I wish I hadn’t been here. This freakin’ town…” His gaze grew distant, and Vera suspected she knew where his thoughts had pulled him.