Mrs. Jackson let out a nervous breath. She lit her eyes on Asher’s face with apology. “If he tells you anything and is willing to share it with me, please let me know. I won’t allow bullying to go on in my school.” Now she looked to Justin, softening her gaze. “Darlin, you just let me know and I will make this stop. Do you understand, sugar?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Justin answered.

On the way out Justin seemed even smaller than usual.

They rode along in silence for a time and then Justin asked if he could play some music. When Asher said he could Justin plugged in his phone and sang along with the singer’s high voice: Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful the way I feel. Lately he had been playing this song constantly. The windows were down and the warm air smoothed against their faces, ruffling their hair. Justin let his hand float up and down on the rushing wind.

The world still smelled like the flood, the scent of rotting cattle and grainy mud and the twisted yellow insides of trees. They passed a whole row of foundations where there had once been houses. A line of white FEMA trucks, an old van perched in the crooked limbs of a magnolia tree whose leaves had been stripped away by the floodwaters.

“Justin, tell me who did that to you,” Asher said finally.

“It’s not a big deal,” Justin said, sitting back against the seat now.

“Tell me, I said.”

“This boy pushed me off the slide.”

“Why?”

Justin shrugged. He picked at an old scab on the back of his hand, lifting its edges with his fingernail. “Because he hates me. Always has.”

“Why would anybody hate you?”

Justin watched the pastures pass by, kept his eyes on the glint of the river between the trees.

“What’s this about going to see a therapist, buddy?”

“Mom takes me, on Wednesdays. In Nashville.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“She told me not to. She said it’d worry you.”

At the house, Asher turned off the engine but did not get out of the Jeep. The motor clicked and they both kept their eyes on the muddy river.

“If I tell you something, will you promise to not be mad at me?” Justin asked.

“Depends on what it is,” Asher said.

“I believe in God, but I don’t believe in church.” Justin turned to face him. “I said that at recess today, because this girl was praying that the Titans would win. And when she told the others they said I was going to hell. And one of ’em pushed me off the slide.”

Asher didn’t know what to say. He had not realized until now that he might feel the same way.

“Do you think I will?” Justin asked.

“Will what?”

“Go to hell.”