We had arrived. She let go of my hand and trotted away, ducking in beneath the shadow of the trees. Yippee, her shoulders said. And her braids bounced off her T-shirt.

We walked through the garden, passing the rainwater tank. I would have liked to try to open it, maybe there was a key in the house. But Lou had disappeared in the direction of the boat and I followed behind her.

“We’re just going to put the tarps back on,” I said. “And tie the ropes tightly. Remember that. The boat isn’t ours.”

But she didn’t answer. And when we were seated in the cockpit again, it quickly became clear that we hadn’t come to cover up the boat again right away.

Because it was cool in the shade between the trees. There was even a bit of a breeze up there. And almost immediately, Lou was back in the game. She shouted, she screamed and yelled, shot and fenced, laughed and cried. She raised the sail, fought against pirates, and found a baby dolphin that was her own. It swam after the boat and was named Nelly. I had no idea where she got that name from.

I was an extra. The stupid sailor. I did as she said, took part in her game of make-believe. And then you, like, said this, and then I answered that, and then you, like, suddenly jumped to one side, and then it was night and you got, like, scared. And then we sailed to the end of the ocean.

There was never any fire in her games. Even if we were in danger, it was never really scary. And there was water everywhere, all the time.

I followed orders. I breathed easily.

But finally it was Lou who didn’t want to play anymore.

“I’m thirsty.”

We’d brought along a half-liter bottle of water that we’d filled up that morning when the rations were doled out, but it was long since empty. I could feel the dust from the dry soil on my tongue.

“We have to go back,” I said.

“No,” Lou said.

She was filthy. A thin layer of dust covered her skin. There were grimy streaks of sweat on her face. One of her braids had slipped out of the rubber band and her hair was tangled. We needed water for more than drinking.

“We’ll have to fill out the forms again and stand in line, from the looks of you,” I said.

“Do we have to stand in line? Won’t they let us in again?”

“I’m kidding, Lou.”

“Won’t they let us into the camp?”

“Yes, they will, take it easy.”

But suddenly she was tense, her little body on alert. I regretted making the joke.

“Fine,” I said. “We can stay here a little longer if we find water.”

“Where?”