“I won’t. She won’t care.”

She watched me closely. “She won’t, huh?”

“No. Honest. She’s sleeping, anyway, and doesn’t like to get woken up.”

“Well. Let’s go get the rest of the boxes, then, shall we? When we’re done, I think I have some lemonade mix we could stir up. Then we can sit and you can tell me about the book you’re reading.”

And we did just that. She was right when she’d said there wasn’t much. Only a few boxes in the back of her big car. Some were heavier than others, and she told me that her husband. Joseph, God love him, had given her most of what she still had. She’d had to sell a lot when she lost their house, but she’d kept the most important things. Her photos. The dishes he’d bought her. His work shirt. Her wedding dress. His pipe. All the things that made up who they were. She’d kept those things.

And we did just what she said. She found the lemonade, nothing more than a powdery mix to make with water. But somehow she made it sweet and tart at the same time, and it was the best thing I’d had in a long while. I sat in my ratty lawn chair and she sat on her own folding chair and she told me about the first time she’d gone to Narnia. And to Middle-earth. And to Mars. She liked to read, but now she mostly read romances with damsels in distress and swashbuckling heroes with swords and pirate ships. “I have to get my kicks somewhere,” she said without any hint of shame.

We were still sitting there when Bear came home that afternoon. “This is my big brother,” I said rather proudly. “He’s Derrick, but everyone calls him Bear.”

“Ah, I see,” she said as if she understood perfectly. I think she did. Somehow. “Then Bear it is.”

I could see the questions in his eyes about this strange old lady, but they could wait until later. I was just happy to have him home and to have a new friend. Nothing else really seemed to matter then.

When we said good-bye that first time, she hugged me. It was unexpected but not unwelcome. “I’ll see you soon,” she said. “I promise.”

And as jaded as I already was, as much anger and hurt I’d already seen, somehow, some way, I believed her.

And she kept that promise until the day she died. Weird, wonderful Mrs. Paquinn.

AND THOUGH I run now, running from the thundering in my ears, the beat of my heart, the sound of his voice in my head telling me that this bullshit was over and that he’d find me, all I can think about is her. How I left her behind, too, and not just him.

And even though he told me not to run, I do. I run toward her, because that seems to be the only place left I have to go. The Green Monstrosity is tense and awkward because of me. Dominic showed me too much today for me to stay there. I wouldn’t be able to breathe there anymore. Even out here in the open, it’s still difficult.