Though it was true that it wasn’t the first time these sorts of things had happened in Astoria. A Muslim bodega owner had been beaten up a few years ago, and some white teenagers harassed a man working a halal food cart last summer. The neighborhood would always rise up in response, like signs would appear in windows of shops—things like Safe Place or We Love Our Muslim Neighbors. Eli always wondered whether those signs made their Muslim neighbors feel better or worse. Anyway, for two incidents to happen in two days felt like a new bad frequency. There wasn’t much he could do about it. And looking around the park now it seemed like for the most part people here did just live together peaceably. The entrance to the park had a big sign over it—a sort of arty doormat—that said All Are Welcome.

“So why don’t you trust me?” Eli said to Aizel.

Aizel didn’t answer.

“It said you ask too many questions,” Eden offered. “That it can’t concentrate.”

“I can stop that,” he said, more to Aizel than to Eden. “I’m just interested in it is all. But I can dial it back.”

A group of people were doing some weird dancing—or maybe martial arts?—just beyond the trees. It was hard to see from where they were. Eden stood, mesmerized, and started to walk toward them. It was a bizarre reality for sure that he was hanging out with Eden Montgomery.

Eli joined her a minute later when she stopped near one of the art installations—a car that had been rigged up with extra lock holes and keys and was full of fake butterflies. Eden turned a key, and some of the butterflies inside the car pulsed to the song “Riders on the Storm.”

“I don’t get it,” Eli said. It was cool and all, but what did it mean? What was the point?

“Me neither,” Eden said. “But I like it.”

They wandered back toward their stuff.

“Eden?” Eli said when he got there. He looked under Eden’s hoodie, then spun around, feeling dizzy.

Aizel was gone.

Eden

EDEN

“We were only gone for like a minute.” A group of young boys was investigating the butterfly car now. “We were right there.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Eli’s cheeks went hollow, like he was about to cry. He said, “You go that way. I’ll go this way.”

“And do what?” Eden asked.

“Look around! See if anybody is holding it? Maybe ask if anybody saw anybody by our stuff.”

“Okay,” she said. “Right.”

Eli marched over to a group of people having a picnic and said, “Hey, sorry to bother you, did you see anybody over by that bag just now?”

There were muttered replies.

“Okay, thanks anyway.” He moved on.