Louise had given money to Casey for lunch at the coffee shop. “Here,” she’d said, pressing some folded bills into his hand, “this is for both of you. My treat.”

On the way, Casey managed to brush his arm against Amelia’s arm two times. Amelia couldn’t decide if this was annoying or interesting. Or accidental.

If you didn’t know the two of them, and were walking behind them at a close distance, you might even think they liked each other.

They ordered at the counter, Amelia first, and sat on stools at the high, long communal table against the window, facing the street. When their food arrived—a grilled cheese sandwich and hot chocolate for both—Casey grinned and said, “Just so you know, I wasn’t copying you.” For the most part, while they ate, they looked out the window, not at each other.

Amelia’s questions about Casey were adding up. Why was he staying with Louise? Why was he trying to make a replica of the Eiffel Tower? And what was with the wedding cake shirt? She’d stolen enough glances throughout the morning to read the words on the cake. The words said Gwen and Charlie Till Death Do Us Part. Who were Gwen and Charlie?

Gwen and Charlie Till Death Do Us Part could be the name of an alternative band or a cult movie. Amelia wasn’t very knowledgeable about things like that. She was not on the cutting edge. She still had a Protect Our Ocean Friends poster hanging above her bed.

After swallowing a bite of her sandwich, she jumped right in. “Is Gwen and Charlie Till Death Do Us Part a band?”

Casey laughed. “No.” His eyes strayed to his shirt. “That’s funny. Gwen and Charlie are my parents.”

“Oh,” said Amelia. “Did they just have an anniversary or renew their vows, or something?”

“I wish. Actually, they’re thinking about getting divorced.” Casey folded his napkin into a triangle. “They went on some marriage retreat at a resort in Michigan. That’s where they are right now. I overheard my mom, on the phone, before they left, say it’s their last attempt to fix their failing marriage. That’s why I’m staying with my aunt. Louise is my mom’s sister.”

Amelia didn’t know how to respond. She nodded and frowned.

“My dad told me that their marriage is a shipwreck,” said Casey.

“That’s bad,” said Amelia. “Really sad.”

“But, he’s also been known to say that life is a universal shipwreck. He’s a cheery guy.”

Out of the corner of her eye Amelia watched Casey. He held up what was left of his sandwich and studied it as if it were a specimen in science class. She noticed that he’d somehow gotten a big crumb—a piece of bread crust—caught in his wild hair. She wanted to pick it out or tell him, but she didn’t dare.

“I think it’s probably hopeless,” he said, “but . . .” He didn’t finish. He twisted his mouth, then puffed out his cheeks. “Anyway, I started making these shirts with fabric markers and acrylic paint. My ‘Save the Marriage’ campaign. This one—the cake—is my favorite. I have one that says For Better or Worse. And another that says Children of Divorce Are More Likely to Drop Out, Do Drugs, Commit Crimes. My mom hates that one. Really hates it.”