“Must have been an electrical surge,” Del said as he carefully picked up the weed whacker from the garage floor.

“It’s not plugged in, Del,” Melissa replied, her voice rising.

Mark and Del had exchanged a pointed glance, each of them beginning to put the puzzle pieces together from what we had told them.

I opened my eyes and reached for my phone. It was 5:00 a.m., and Mark was still asleep next to me. At the top of the screen were two text notifications.

The first was from Melissa, sent just over an hour ago: Jess, how are you doing?

She replied a few minutes later: My face will be fine, but I’m not. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I’m going to talk to Del today, but I think we need to move somewhere else before things get worse.

My heart sank as I read her words. Not that I could blame her, but I couldn’t imagine her leaving and living anywhere else. I hadn’t even told her or Melissa about Marianne’s warning. I was about to reply when Melissa responded: Understandable. I’ve been having the same thoughts.

A heavy feeling settled over my shoulders as I typed and deleted a variety of responses. Their thoughts were valid, reasonable. Expected. I should have been thinking the same thing. And yet I couldn’t imagine a world with all of us scattered to the four winds. I still harbored some tiny hope that we could find a way to stop all of it and get our friend back, no matter how far-fetched it seemed.

I put my phone down without responding. I couldn’t think of a reply that wouldn’t discount their feelings but would inspire hope. I thought maybe something would come to me later and I would find the perfect words to rally the troops. But for that moment, all I could do was remain silent.

—

I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM, WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM

I looked at the sign in Melissa’s hands, my eyes lingering on the word “scream.”

“What do you think?” Melissa said as she tapped the front with her index finger. She looked terrible, her hair in a greasy bun, her clothes rumpled. I had never seen her look so disheveled. I was sure I looked the same.

“Looks great. Thanks for taking care of it,” I said. I turned and pointed toward the entrance to the school parking lot. “You can start setting up over there.” She turned and shuffled away.

Our morning had started early, with Mark and I packing up the car and heading over to the school before 8:00 a.m. while Judy sat with the kids. She had arrived with an enormous box full of face-painting supplies and a sign with sketches of different designs the kids could choose.