The next day, Skylar and I go to the library to choose another book from the list. This time I want to pick one that ends happily. My hand lingers on The Yearling. The fawn on the cover reminds me of the dead deer in the woods, and I look for something else. I finally settle on The Red Pony.

Skylar chooses the same book because she loves horses. When we were nine, we spent a whole summer galloping instead of running. When no one was around, we whinnied. We were wild horses, and no one would ever tame us, Skylar said.

In real life, the closest we’ve gotten to a horse is taking riding lessons for a Girl Scout badge. I got the worst horse of all. He didn’t do a thing I said, and then he ran all the way back to the barn with me hanging on like a terrified monkey or something. That was the end of the horse badge for me.

We settle down in Skylar’s living room and read. The rain falls softly, no thunder, no lightning. It drips from trees and the eaves and gurgles in the down-spouts. Ms. Freeman microwaves popcorn for us, something Mom would never do, because we’d spill it everywhere and besides, it has no nutritional value. You might as well eat Styrofoam, she says.

Luckily, Ms. Freeman’s mind does not work the same way. How she and Mom remain friends is just another one of life’s mysteries.

It’s still raining on Wednesday, so we go to the mall and hang out in the food court with Lindsey, Nessa, and Erica for a while. Jonathon and his friend Nate come along and sit down with us. I notice that Jonathon looks at Skylar when she’s looking at someone else, as if he doesn’t want her to catch him staring. I’m pretty sure that means he likes her, especially when he starts getting straws and blowing the paper wrappers at her. She gets all flustered and acts like he’s really annoying, but I can tell she’s secretly enjoying it.

The boys leave for soccer practice. Rain or shine, their coach says. Lindsey, Nessa, and Erica drift away to browse in the Gap. Skylar and I take the glass elevator to the next level. We stop in front of the Super Palace Nine and look at the signs over the ticket booths. Nothing is showing that we want to see, even if we could afford it. Car chases, superheroes, psycho killers, and Disney.

We amble along, staring in store windows and picking out things we might buy someday. For instance, there’s a big red couch in the Sofa Store, the kind that’s so soft and plushy, once you sink into it, you never want to get up.