We yank our bikes out of the weeds. Jason throws our empty backpacks at us. Mine hits my shoulder and knocks me off my bike.

Carter yells, “I better not see you here again!” They both laugh some more.

We ride away without looking back.

7

When we are safe, we stop in the middle of our street, halfway between my house and Skylar’s. We’re almost too exhausted to talk.

“No more tree house,” I say.

Skylar wipes the sweat out of her eyes. “I’m done with it anyway.”

A kid coasts past on his skateboard. The little girls next door draw chalk stick figures on the sidewalk. Mrs. Goetz walks past with her dog, Silky. She smiles and waves at us.

It’s like a picture in a children’s book, one of those illustrations where the artist hides things for you to find. Secret things. Scary things. Things you won’t notice if you don’t look closely.

Mom’s car turns the corner. She sees us and stops. “What are you doing in the middle of the street?”

I say goodbye to Skylar and pedal down the driveway behind the car. After Mom turns off the engine, I park my bike where it belongs.

The next day, we meet Lindsey, Nessa, and Erica at the swimming pool. Mrs. Boyce is there with Andy Junior. She looks mad and sad at the same time. We wonder where Mr. Boyce is, but we aren’t about to ask. She’d bite our heads off.

“He was with her yesterday,” Nessa says. “But they didn’t stay long. We barely said hi before they left. The baby was crying, and she looked mad as usual.”

“Maybe he’ll come later,” Skylar says.

“I keep telling you guys they’re getting a divorce,” Erica says. “My mom’s been divorced twice. Believe me, I know the signs.”

Lindsey rubs sunscreen on her nose. “Every divorce is different—that’s what my mom says. Sometimes people think a marriage is perfect, but then it’s not after all. Sometimes people fight all the time, and everyone thinks they’ll get a divorce, but they never do.”

We all stare at Mrs. Boyce. She’s sitting in the wading pool with Andy, but it’s like she’s not really there. She’s definitely not happy.

“I don’t understand,” says Nessa. “Mr. Boyce is so cute and so nice and so smart. How could anyone be unhappy or cross with him?”

None of us has the answer.