“Peter said we’re never to go that way.” He worries at his bottom lip, and Jane is afraid for a moment he might cry. His terror is real, and after all, she reminds herself, he’s just a little boy.

“But do you know where it leads, why it’s forbidden?”

Timothy shrinks, pulling his shoulders inward. Jane hates to press him, but she needs to know.

Timothy frowns, and once again his brow furrows as though he’s trying to remember something. His hand inches toward the hem of his shirt, but he catches himself before bringing it to his mouth.

“It’s a bad place.”

He points, and Jane follows the line of his pointing, up above the trees, where a faint smudge like rising smoke hangs against the stars. She shivers, but forces herself to put her shoulders back and be brave.

“I’m sorry, but I think that’s the way we need to go. It’s okay,” Jane adds quickly. “I’ll keep us safe. I promise.”

She wants to believe it. If her mother were here, what would she do? Jane remembers when she was just about Timothy’s age and another girl knocked her down in the park. She’d been making fun of Jane for looking at bugs, calling her dirty, and when she’d said she was not the girl had pushed her. She’d landed face down in the dirt, cutting her lip on her teeth and making it bleed.

Fighting back tears, she’d demanded the other girl apologize, but the girl had merely smiled sweetly, claiming Jane must have tripped. Jane had run to her mother, calling the girl a liar and a monster, but rather than hugging her close as Jane had expected, her mother had taken Jane by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

“She isn’t a monster, Jane.”

“But, Mama—”

“No, Jane. She may have acted like a monster to you, and that’s different. But do you know why she acted like one?”

Jane had shaken her head, not understanding the distinction, or what her mother wanted from her. She’d only wanted to be held and comforted. But there was that look in her mother’s eyes, the one she got when Jane asked a wrong question. It made Jane think, even then, as young as she was, that they were having two different conversations. Jane was seeing the girl who pushed her, and the park, and her mother was seeing another world entirely. But her tone had been so serious Jane hadn’t dared argue. It was the tone her mother used when she wanted Jane to learn an important lesson.

“It’s because she’s afraid.” She had pulled Jane closer, but not into the hug Jane wanted. Her mother had turned her, holding Jane against her side so Jane could see the other girl, who didn’t look afraid at all. Jane’s mother had smoothed her hair, but the gesture didn’t feel comforting, and she’d put her face right next to Jane’s like she was telling her a secret.