Abby had two excellent tutors. They cost a lot, but they made her laugh and enjoy learning, so they spent most of the day with her. They were the only other adults with whom she had regular contact besides the apartment complex manager.

The manager was a single mom to a boy near Abby’s age. Ethan was a shy kid who hadn’t made friends easily at school. He and Abby took a real shine to each other, and they’d hang out most evenings, either playing XBox or messing around by a muddy little lake a couple hundred yards from the complex. Ethan had been bullied in both the real and virtual worlds, so he had no interest in social networking, making him ideal buddy material.

Spencer smoked more cigarettes but less weed, which he’d smoke in his room before bed with his arm hanging out the window, thinking no one knew. As his supply of prescription meds dwindled—and not wanting to risk registering with a doctor in Toledo—he found an alternative supplier. Youssef may have been good-for-nothing workwise, but he had a source for Ambien and Prozac who could probably deliver in an apocalypse. And Spencer no longer drank to oblivion every night. But regardless of how much he drank, smoked, or self-medicated, when he closed his eyes, he would still see a boy burning in his car.

He was determined to change. He didn’t have the whole picture of what he was aiming for, just bits of the canvas. He wanted to take care of Abby, he knew that much, wanted to address her growing moodiness and distance, unaware that the disconnect was largely down to his distance. And, although it felt like a betrayal, he wanted to think about Marielle less or at least with less pain. Occasionally on summer evenings, he’d notice new thoughts sneaking up on him; maybe it might be nice to find someone special, someone who wouldn’t put up with his shit, just like Marielle hadn’t, just like Lonnie had.

One blazing Saturday afternoon, Spencer was taking his turn at sitting with Abby for her Facebook session. He needed a cigarette. Smoking was a big no in the apartment, and Abby didn’t want to go outside with the laptop because of the heat. She had about five conversations going on Messenger and didn’t look like she’d be finishing them anytime soon. Spencer was getting fidgety. It was a day to be out. He thought they’d agreed they should all hit Wildwood park.

“Hey, Abby, you don’t have any Friend Requests pending do you?”

“No, Dad. You and Chris deleted them.”

“So you’re just talking with friends you know, right?”

“Do you want a list of who they are and how long I’ve known them for?”