“You can put his things over there.” I point to a spot that’s close to where I set up Mabel’s things, but not too close.

“We don’t have anything from the others,” I say quietly.

“I’m sure it’s okay,” Quinn says. “This looks really good, Cora.”

I smile a little. It’s a cold day, but sunlight is filtering down from the sky. The stones and the twigs we’ve laid out glitter in the sun.

I clasp my hands together. “I think it’s going to work today.”

“I hope so,” Quinn says.

“Me too.” I stare at the giant oak tree. “You really think the wormhole will look like a door?”

Quinn shuffles her feet. “I mean, I don’t know. That’s just how I imagine it.”

I tilt my head. “Hm. I always envisioned it looking like a blurry hole. Does that make sense? Like an out-of-focus swirl in the middle of the tree.”

None of the articles I read gave an exact description of what the wormhole looked like, which I frankly found to be maddening. It would help if I knew exactly what I was looking for.

Quinn raises her eyebrows. “Sort of?”

“I guess I could try to picture a door.” I stare harder at the giant oak tree. I’m willing to picture anything if it will bring me to Mabel. I can feel my eyeballs starting to water from holding them open so long without blinking.

Quinn stays silent. When I glance over at her, she’s not even looking at the tree. She’s staring at Waddle. My stomach pinches.

“So,” I say. “Let’s try again?”

Quinn turns from Waddle to me. “Okay.”

I point at Waddle. “You remember him?”

She nods. Her lips move like she might say something else, but she doesn’t.

“I miss her so much, Quinn.” I can hear my voice breaking and I step closer to the giant oak tree. It feels good to lean against it. It’s steady. It can hold the weight of everything.

Quinn stares at her shoes. “I know you do.”

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve walked over to Quinn. I hug her tightly. My eyes are blurry with tears. “And I’ve missed you so much, too. I don’t know if I’ve told you that yet.”

She jumps a little in surprise, but she hugs me back. It feels even steadier than leaning against the giant oak tree. It reminds me of when we did a three-legged race together when we were kids and it felt so easy to become one person. I want to feel whole like that again.

Quinn starts to trace a heart on my back. We used to play this game all the time when we were little. One person draws a shape, and the other person tries to guess what it is.

“It’s a heart,” I whisper.

“Yup,” she says.

I pull away from her. I grab a Kleenex out of my corduroy jacket and wipe my nose. “I think I might need your help climbing the tree again,” I admit.