Maybell said to me, “You segregated yourself off from the group, consorting only with the people you think of as your special friends.”

“You cared too much about that owl.” Who said this? Bip, who had never seen me with the owl. “You have to take your love and spread it around.”

Osha said, “You only want to go with the sheep. You’re too lazy to learn other jobs.”

Dice hung back in the shadows. The family attacked me more than they attacked Pear. But she had broken more rules. She was the one who sent me for Queen’s medicine. She was the one who told Queen that Cassie had the right idea.

Thirty minutes, or an hour, went by. I had lost track of time. Long-legged insects stumbled across the walls. Out in the fields, the crickets harped. Dice had said these crickets first showed up on Earth around the time the whiskery, warm, strange lizards began to be identifiable as mammals. My eyes were starting to close when Sara spoke again. “Harmony,” she said, “though you’ve been here nearly a year, we don’t feel we can trust you.”

The energy in the room renewed. People began again, more broadly. “You haven’t taken Dice’s lessons to heart.” I stared at my boots, which were clotted with manure. I noticed, as time went by in leaps and dollops, how shaky I was. With every breath, my chest seemed to expand to the ceiling and fall into the floor.

I glanced at Pear. She looked so old.

Eventually, silence settled over the room. I felt carried along by the torrential noises of the nighttime bugs. I remembered how Queen said that there were pears as big as footballs with skin so soft your fingers would sink into them, which was how I’d felt the day before with Bay when he washed over me like the river, which Sara once told me the Cherokees called the long man. I remembered when Bay stabbed the tree, how I shouted, then how he burned my hand and kissed me. I remembered the hurt made the softness all the lovelier.

Hours and hours seemed to have passed when Dice finally stood. He walked to the center, so near to us I could smell his piney soap. “It is so important to follow rules.” His voice was calming. He sounded almost like he was singing. “We cannot help you if you don’t follow rules. We cannot love you if you don’t follow rules.” The family watched him as he circled, their heads swiveling in unison. “Our troubles and our trials here will only make us stronger there.” These were lyrics from “Sacred Harp.”

I let myself fall into his voice. I let myself lose track of the world. I let myself forget that even Dice didn’t always follow the rules.