I guessed she thought the conversation was over, so I said, “But I just wondered. Because one time we went for a hike and we both fell down. Pretty hard. So maybe that’s actually what happened.”

“Fell?” She looked confused. “Beatrice, are you worried that you—rolled in something? Like poison ivy? You look fine. And your cousin—”

“Angelica,” I said.

“Your cousin Angelica will be fine, I’m almost sure.”

That was twice she said almost.

“Where did these bruises come from?” Dr. Thomas said, suddenly noticing my arm, as if it hadn’t been there all along.

I’d been pinching myself hard all day, to remember what it would be like when the shot was over and done with. I’d pinch my arm and then say to myself, “See? It’s over.” And then do it again.

I told Dr. Thomas I didn’t remember.

—

When we got home, Mom banged around in the cabinet under the kitchen window, asking, “Where can a roasting pan escape to?” because her friend Melissa was coming over to teach Mom how to cook a chicken. She did that until the doorbell rang.

“The roasting pan ran away!” Mom said when she answered the door. Melissa looked right past her and pointed into our living room.

“Is that it? Under your plant?”

Mom raised her arms and said, “Yes!”

I went to my room to do my worrying. I sat on the bed and closed my eyes. Mostly I worried about Angelica. And rabies. The doctor said the shots were “a hundred percent effective,” but I had noticed some rabies–worry leaking in during the day. I would have worried about Sonia, but I didn’t have time before the doorbell rang again.

I had invited Lizette to dinner.

“Look! Cake parts!” She held up a plastic container. “I was helping at my grandma’s today. Check it out.” She pulled off the top, and I saw at least three kinds of cake, cut into funny shapes.

“It’s like a yummy puzzle,” I said.

“Yeah, she has to trim off a lot of little pieces to make the cakes look perfect, and so I collected them. No frosting, though.” She made a sad face. “Today wasn’t a frosting day.”

We sat on my floor with the cake between us, putting chunks of it in our mouths and trying to guess the flavors without looking, until there was only one little square left.

She did her cat smile. “Let’s play halfsies. That’s what I do with my brother.”

“What’s halfsies?”

She bit the last square of cake in half and handed it to me. “Now you bite just half of that, and then give it back.”

I did. She bit that half in half and handed it back to me.

I laughed. “This is tiny!”

“Keep going!”