“Little joke,” I said. A private joke. Between me and my friend. It would have been so easy to tell him Kira needed help with Katiana, ask him to call off the dogs. But I’d promised her—and what was I even thinking, muddying the waters of my imminent life of freedom by caring so much already? I wasn’t doing a good job of moderating my response to all this…kindness.

Friends, just not “life or death” dependence.

“Want to walk?” Sean asked.

I did.

A little way from the firelight, at the water’s edge, we sat on a precarious pile of driftwood logs. Seattle’s skyline, lit like Christmas, sparkled on the horizon. Fishing boats bobbed. The ferry cruised past, windows warm with light, sending little waves that lapped the rocky shore.

“What’s it like living with Francine?”

“Lots of tea and toast.”

“Sounds about right,” he said.

“She’s nice,” I admitted. “It’s okay.”

“She’s been really good to my mom and me. They volunteer for a bunch of random island stuff together; we’ve known her forever.”

“You and everyone else. You’ve been here your whole life? On the island?”

“Born and raised. You were born in Seattle?”

“California. Seattle when I was a year old and since.”

“So now it’s just you with Francine?”

“And Terry Johnson. Eleven months and I’m out of foster care and on my own.”

“Why?”

“Eighteen. I’ll age out.”

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Then what happens?”

I breathed deep in the clean, cold dark. “Don’t know.”

“Where will you go?”

I shrugged.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Down the beach, laughter and then music. Someone had hooked up speakers.

Sean sighed. “That’ll get the cops out.” We watched the fire. “Want a beer? Or a lemonade malt beverage flavored for ladies?”

I laughed. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Then I am, too.” He moved nearer to me. Salt air and Ivory soap. Lots of houses use it; I like the scent and the small white cakes with Ivory pressed in. Clean.

It was so easy at Salishwood, but here alone with him in the night and the water and the stars and the Ivory…my heart thudded.

“I’m…sorry about your dad,” I said lamely. “Kira told me.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “Kira’s whole family, Tiana’s mom, Francine—we’ve got people all over the island who make sure we’re okay. It’s been almost eight years, so I’m pretty much on the mend.”