At her touch, he let out a howl of pain that drew everyone’s attention. He roared with it again, shuddered. Leni froze, unsure of what to do—should she pull away or push forward? She reacted instinctively, took him in her arms. He melted into her, held her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. She felt his tears on her neck, warm and wet. “It’s my fault. I keep having these nightmares … and I wake up so pissed off I can’t stand it.”

Before Leni could say anything, the pretty blond girl moved in beside Matthew, put an arm around him, pulled him away from Leni. Matthew stumbled into his sister, moving unsteadily, as if even walking felt unfamiliar.

“You must be Leni,” Alyeska said.

Leni nodded.

“I’m Aly. Mattie’s big sister. He told me about you.” She was trying hard to smile; that was obvious. “Said you were best friends.”

Leni wanted to cry. “We are.”

“That’s lucky. I didn’t have anyone my age in school when I lived here,” Aly said, tucking her hair behind one ear. “I guess it’s why Fairbanks seemed like a good idea. I mean … Kaneq and the homestead can feel as small as a speck sometimes. But I should have been here…”

“Don’t,” Matthew said to his sister. “Please.”

Aly’s smile wavered. Leni didn’t know this girl at all, but her struggle for composure and her love for her brother were obvious. It made Leni feel strangely connected to her, as if they had this one important thing in common.

“I’m glad he has you. He’s … struggling now, aren’t you, Mattie?” Aly’s voice broke. “But he’ll be fine. I hope.”

Leni saw suddenly how hope could break you, how it was a shiny lure for the unwary. What happened to you if you hoped too hard for the best and got the worst? Was it better not to hope at all, to prepare? Wasn’t that what her father’s lesson always was? Prepare for the worst.

“Of course he will,” Leni said, but she didn’t believe it. She knew what nightmares could do to a person and how bad memories could change who you were.

*   *   *

ON THE DRIVE HOME, no one spoke. Leni felt the loss of every second of light as night fell, felt it as sharply as a mallet striking bone. She imagined her father could hear them, the lost seconds, like stones clattering down a rock wall, plunking somewhere into black, murky water.

Mama huddled in her seat, hunched over. She kept glancing at Dad.

He was drunk and angry. He bounced in his seat, thumped his hand on the steering wheel.

Mama reached out, touched his arm.

He yanked away from her, said, “You’re good at that, aren’t you? Touching men. You think I didn’t see. You think I’m stupid.”