“Well, hello.” Glenn is standing in a camouflage-colored aluminum fishing boat with his fist curled around one of their lifelines. He’s older than them by at least a decade, maybe more, and he’s wearing a dirty trucker cap that matches his boat. A six-pack of Budweiser sits on the gunwale, as though he’s about to invite himself aboard. He grins at Taylor. “There’s two of you.”

“We really don’t have time to party,” Willa says, a note of desperation in her voice. “But thanks anyway.”

Glenn doesn’t release his hold on the lifeline, and Taylor can see his mind working on his next sales pitch. He’s not an unattractive guy, but he doesn’t seem to understand that he’s not welcome here. “Aw, come on. I’m a nice guy.”

Taylor flings open the cockpit locker and pulls out the speargun that Campbell stashed away. The one Taylor couldn’t imagine ever needing. Now she aims it at Glenn, whose blue eyes go wide as she says, “My friend told you to keep moving.”

“Hey, now,” he says. “I didn’t mean any harm. I was only looking for a little fun with two pretty ladies.”

“Don’t care what you meant. Don’t care what you want,” Taylor says. “And you’re gonna have a whole lot less fun if you don’t take your hands off this boat.”

Glenn lets go of the lifeline, but when he reaches for his Budweiser, Taylor lowers the point of the speargun toward his hand. “We’ll be keeping that.”

“Couple of crazy bitches,” he says as he sits down in his boat. “That’s what you are.”

“All I’m hearing right now is wah, wah, wah,” Taylor says. “Move along.”

He flips his middle finger at them as he motors away, but she grabs the six-pack, snaps a can out of its plastic loop, cracks it open, and takes a slurpy drink. “Thanks for the beer, asshole!”

Taylor is still cracking up when she looks back at Willa, expecting her to be laughing too. Except Willa is sobbing, her shoulders shaking violently as tears stream down her face. Taylor puts the speargun away and touches Willa’s arm. “Hey,” she says softly. “It’s okay. He’s gone.”

Willa screams, a furious sound that rips through the trees on either side of the river. Her hands are clenched so tight it’s a wonder her fingers don’t break.

“It’s not okay! Nothing is okay!” Her words scrape against her throat as she sobs them out. “Why do we live in a world where that asshole thinks doing shit like that is acceptable . . . where your brother can fuck with people’s feelings and get away with it . . . where my mom is so broken she can’t hold a job . . . where I have to be perfect all the goddamn time so no one will think I’m trailer trash?”