“Representative,” I said to the computer on the phone.

I thought about Bear’s face. The way his eyes watched me when I spoke. The way he listened to everything I said, not the way some people will nod and pretend and not actually hear anything. The way his eyes smiled even when his mouth stayed straight, pink, slightly cruel. I felt the money in my pocket, guilty. But not enough to hand it over.

When I heard a person on the phone finally, I saw my mother coming back out, ready to tell me what she thought of me, and I held up one finger to stop her before she said anything.

I covered the speaker and glared. “Do you want me to take care of this?” I asked.

She turned away, and I could hear Birdie singing to herself. Something I knew she did when she was nervous.

“I have an outage,” I said to the representative. “Hidden Drive, Space 17.”

She repeated it to me as a question.

“Yes.”

“It’s been turned off for nonpayment,” she said.

Shit, I thought. I knew it.

“Okay,” I said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Pay the bill,” she said.

“Um, short of that?” I asked. “This is an emergency. It was shut off suddenly,” I said.

“You were given notice,” the woman said, “posted on your door, ten days ago, stating that continued nonpayment would result in shutoff. Because it’s been shut off,” she said, “the amount needs to be paid in full, plus a reconnection fee, before we can turn it back on.”

“What’s the total amount?” I asked. I fingered the bills in my jeans.

“Twelve forty-three fifty-seven,” she said.

I heard my phone ding before it started dying.

“Twelve hundred dollars?” I said.

“Sir, the bill has not been paid since January,” she said. “The note in the file says the house is vacant.”

“Well, it’s not vacant,” I said. “We still fucking live here.”

“You can make a payment online anytime,” the woman said.

“Without power?” I said.

“I’m sorry, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No,” I said, and hung up as the woman was saying, “Thank you for calling National Grid.”

The house was hot, and I went to the kitchen to open the window above the sink. It had been nailed shut.

“Mom,” I said into the living room. I checked those windows, beside the front door, looking out to the side yard. Everything had been nailed down.

This was a new level of paranoia, even for her. I’m not sure who she thought was getting in, or maybe she was just afraid that something wild in Birdie would cause her to flee.

My mother dropped into the flowered chair that faced the TV. In the candlelight she looked both younger and older. Like she could be sixteen still, in a long skirt and bracelets, her hair down her back. Or she might be ancient. Her red hair some kind of trick she played on your eyes.