He spends the day in the woods, starting from one end and walking to the other, back and forth, then weaving through on a diagonal, keeping the line as tight as possible, if you fuck it up start over. Testing himself. If I’m standing right here, do I know, in all directions, where I am. Clusters of crowns. Where the gaps are. Like animals, trees look the same when you aren’t really looking; he looks now. With his hands, his eyes, his ears. Where the traffic is, on what road, the sounds from the house, the light from the church. The sun can tell you, the sky, the stars, the map is full of markers; fallen logs, fox dens, rabbit burrows, clusters of ferns, moss on the stones. Pattern upon pattern. To the east the land rises, just a little; to the west, it dips, you can feel the slope, so slight, beneath your feet. Eventually, even without using the stream or the church or the road for reference, keeping his eyes on the ground, he can orient himself, seeing in his mind the wood in all directions, from any point: I know you. The thrill of it; he slaps the side of the broken birch, the dead center of the wood, and whoops as the sun sinks through the trees until it is gone, the kingdom of the birch burning in the dark.

Erik, Jo, Leni, and Karen in the dining room, waiting for him at the kitchen table. Surprise. Leni’s idea; she smiles, hopeful proud eyes, and he smiles back, shocked to see Karen in his house, a touch of lipstick, hair twisted back in a clip. Erik stands at the kitchen sink, drinking coffee. Wow, Xie says, plucking a leaf from his sleeve; you guys didn’t have to do this. We made you a cake, Jo says. Coconut. We used beet juice for the dye, says Leni, so it’s going to taste a little funny if you eat the frosting. Xie rubbing his brow. Um. Thanks. Erik cuts vegan pizzas and Leni opens bottles of ginger beer. Xie sits. Cheers, says Karen, and they touch bottles. So how old are you? Karen asks. He smiles. Sixteen. How old are you. She guffaws. Rude! Why’s it rude for you and not for me? She rolls her eyes. I’m twenty-eight. Jo whistles. Leni pushes a plate toward Karen. Sorry it’s all vegetables, Xie says, and Karen shakes her head. Looks delicious. How was Miami? he asks the girls; Jo’s big sigh as she frees a piece of bell pepper from its sleeve of fake cheese. The ocean was red. Like, literally fucking red from that crazy algae they have growing down there, and my dad was trying to think of how, like, his company could purify it, you know, with their stupid machines, like the Gulf is just one big fucking faucet. We had to be like, um, no, that’s not how it works, but he is constitutionally incapable of getting it. Leni shudders. What would help? Karen asks. Well, for starters, the complete dismantling of capitalism, probably, Jo says, and Karen smiles, wry. Right. Erik watching, silent as they talk. Xie wonders what he thinks of their little party, a messed-up teacher and two of the least-liked girls at MacAdams. Maybe he’s pleased Xie has any friends at all, his father also a loner, so. How can he judge. If it’s sad for Xie it’s sad for all of them. But why think of any of it as sad. When he loves them all. Leni pushing a plastic bag across the table, Sorry I didn’t wrap it but you don’t believe in wrapping paper anyway, right? Xie wiping his mouth on his cuff. Pulls a book from the bag. Becoming Biocentric: A Guide to Rejecting Anthropocentrism. Open it, Leni urges. He does. To Xie, a Hero for the Earth. Keep fighting. X Nova. Xie grins. Karen leaning to read the title. Can I see? Xie sliding the book to her. We’ve been reading it and it’s so good, Jo says. It’s been out for a couple of years but the information is still super-relevant. Erik uncrossing his arms. How about cake, he says. P. polishing his boots with the hem of his cape in the corner. Pancratius never made it to sixteen. Make a wish. The lights suddenly out and everyone. Singing. Erik lifting the cake over Xie’s head, tall yellow candles lit. All the faces at the table illuminated, watching him. Smell of coconut. Of smoke. What should I wish. Blows the candles out but for a moment a light, still, in the dark, before the lamp is switched back on.