The first thing Campbell pulls from the box is a plastic baggie of marijuana. Even though smoking pot is one of her brother’s favorite pastimes, Taylor has never touched the stuff. Just seeing it makes her nervous, and she imagines the drug dogs at the nearby police station suddenly sniffing the air. She has no frame of reference to know how much is in the baggie, but any amount feels like too much.

“Thanks.” Willa takes the baggie, and Taylor’s jaw drops. This is a side of Willa she has never seen, and now she can’t help but wonder if Finley smoked pot too. Did the two of them blaze up whenever she wasn’t around?

Cam senses her outrage. “It helped Finley feel better during chemo,” he explains. “And getting high is way more fun with friends.”

“I was her friend.” Taylor has always been privately paranoid that Willa and Finley had more fun without her. In Taylor’s imagination, they had smarter conversations and did more interesting things. She hates that her brother may have been part of their secret world. “You could have invited me.”

Willa rolls her eyes. “Not everything is about you.”

Taylor opens her mouth to retort, but Cam cuts her off.

“We have no time for arguing,” he says, rummaging around in the box like some sort of degenerate Santa Claus. This time he comes up with a pair of fake IDs. Even though the Ohio DMV has tried to make it impossible to counterfeit driver’s licenses, Campbell is a wizard with passport photos and an X-Acto knife.

“Seriously?” Taylor is aware she’s quickly becoming a buzzkill, but she can’t help herself. She’s not a fake-ID kind of girl. She’s a listen-to-records-in-her-bedroom kind of girl. “I’d like to make it to Key West without ending up in jail.”

Cam laughs. “Finley wanted you to have them.”

“Why would we even need fake IDs?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” He looks perplexed for a moment, then skeptical, as though he’s wondering if they even share the same DNA. Taylor often wonders that herself.

“Please don’t let the next thing in that box be a gun,” she says.

Again her brother laughs. “It’s not, but there is a speargun in one of the cockpit lockers. Just in case.”

In case of what? Taylor can’t imagine a scenario in which she would need a fishing speargun or a bag of weed, but she supposes she should have faith in Finley’s plan, even if it doesn’t make much sense yet.