“You’ve got to fight violence with violence,” Bay said. “Imagefare.” I thought then that he was speaking metaphorically. He stepped farther into the hall. He looked bizarre next to the foyer table with its arrangement of dried billy buttons.

“You’re going to get caught,” I said.

“No one’s been here in months,” he said. “See that doorknob? No prints, cleared off by the rain. That takes weeks and weeks. And moss won’t grow like that on a front walk that’s been recently stepped on.”

He turned to enter the house, and I stood there for a minute, my tongue pasted in my mouth. Then I went around back. I looked for a stream or a rain barrel. It was almost night. I felt pricks of what I thought was rain, but it was snow, astonishing at this time of year. The flakes landed on my hands and didn’t melt. I found a rusty tap and fell onto my knees in front of it. When I spun the knob, which shrieked and emitted no water, a shard of rusted metal entered my palm, burning hot.

I dug my fingers into my thigh, trying to stay quiet. The splinter had sunk deep, and I was afraid to squeeze it out. It was worth entering the house to clean out the wound, but just then Bay came out, carrying a heavy load, and kicked the door shut behind him. “Let’s head out,” he said, and set off back down the walk.

“I need to get this splinter out,” I said. My voice was raspy. “It’s metal.” My palm already shone with swelling, and I felt faint.

“Another thing wrong with you?” he said. He softened. “I’ll teach you how to fix it later.” He held out a winter coat, a down-filled performance jacket of some kind, expensive.

I grabbed it.

“Give that back to me,” he said, smiling, but I could see he was unhappy with me. My hand burned.

“No,” I said.

“Trust me,” he said.

I handed him the jacket. He admired it while I shivered. He reached into the pockets.

He reminded me of Isaac, taking away something I wanted. The Christmas I was fifteen, my mother had bought me red rubber boots. She already had a pair, except hers were from Walmart and my new ones were from Belk. “We’ll match,” she’d said. The rubber was thick and expensive, carmine red like a quince flower.