But, no. He wouldn’t. Instead he lay on the couch and fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamed Max was falling over the side of a boat. Max was wearing his red T-shirt with the alligator on it, the Max-o-Saurus shirt that Anthony had given him. It was Max’s favorite shirt; he wore it all the time. When it was dirty, he pulled it out of the laundry hamper and wore it anyway. (It made Cassie crazy when he did that.)

In the dream, Max had no life jacket on. Who put a child in a boat with no life jacket? Even in his dream state Anthony paused to wonder this. Anthony was in the boat with Max, so he must have been responsible for the lack of a life jacket. When Max fell over the side, Anthony grabbed at the T-shirt, but it slipped through his fingers and Max disappeared into the water. The water swallowed him so quickly: he was there, and then he wasn’t. Max! screamed Anthony. Max! Max! He jumped over the side of the boat—it was a small boat, something low, close to the water—dove down, and opened his eyes. But the water was murky; he couldn’t see anything. He kicked his legs and flailed his arms, feeling with all of his limbs for Max’s body. Nothing. Max! he screamed. But his mouth filled with water and he had to push himself to the surface, sputtering and choking, before going back under.

Anthony woke up sweating and terrified, the sunlight streaming in through the cottage’s windows. His mouth was dry, his T-shirt was soaked, and he was completely disoriented. When he stood and walked into the kitchen his legs were shaky.

He reached for his cell phone and called Cassie. Voice mail. He disconnected and called again. Again, voice mail. So Anthony called again. And this time she answered! “What?” she said peevishly. “What’s going on, Anthony? Why all the calls?”

“Where are you?” he asked. “Why didn’t you answer?”

“I was in a barre class. I had do not disturb on but you called so many times it disabled and the phone started ringing. Geez, Anthony. I had to leave during ab work. It’s a major infraction, to have a cell phone ring in there. People have been blackballed for less.”

Anthony didn’t care about Cassie’s barre class. “Where’s Max?”

“He’s at home, with Hallie.”

“Who’s Hallie?”

“The sitter. You know her. That high school girl across the street?”

“Okay.” Anthony remembered Hallie. She had a rose tattoo on her forearm and always wore a baseball cap. She was nice. “Okay, I was just checking. I had a bad feeling, that’s all.”

“Anthony.” Her voice softened a touch. “Get ahold of yourself, okay? Just—get ahold of yourself. You’re starting to scare me.”

Later, Anthony opened his front door. He was thinking of taking a bike ride. On the stoop he found a sturdy paper plate. On the plate were several giant blueberry muffins dusted with cinnamon sugar. And taped to the plate was a note. Trying out a new recipe, it said. I know I can’t thank you enough for saving Sebastian today but I thought this might be a step in the right direction. —Lu