When I woke up, I tried the door, and it was unlocked. I stood in the hallway, confused and listening for some understanding of where everybody was, when May suddenly stepped out of her room. She was pale, and her eyes were red and puffy. I was opening my mouth to ask what was wrong with her when my mother called from downstairs.

May rushed to my mother’s summoning, and I quickly followed. The locked door, the yelling the night before, my father’s arrival, and May’s appearance all fell away into unanswered oblivion when my mother told us that my father had left and was not coming back. That we must pack up our things and leave Avril Island.

My phone buzzes with a text, returning me to the present. It’s from Ezra. He’s going to be back earlier than expected and asks if I want to have our date tonight. The thought of seeing him again so soon and not having another night alone makes me nearly giddy. I wait a few seconds before replying, not wanting to look as desperate and excited as I am, then send a simple reply: Sure. Sounds good. He writes back that he’ll pick me up at eight PM and I send him a thumbs-up emoji, then curse myself for it.

No longer wanting to sit here with my past and my confusion over the locked door, I decide to get up and move. I’ll give my trail a test run and hopefully burn off the nervous energy that tonight’s date is already causing. I push up off the glider, leaving it swinging, and go inside to put on my running things.

I have to keep my eyes on the ground, as there are still rocks to avoid, but I’m able to look up every so often and appreciate the view of the water on one side, the forest on the other. I go at a slow pace, since it’s been a while since I’ve done a full run. Not so slow that I don’t get a good sweat going, though.

I make it to the end of the island and stop to splash some water on my face. Since I’m there, I decide I might as well take a look at the tree, make sure that it still hasn’t been disturbed by anybody. As soon as I reach the clearing, I wish I hadn’t come.

The wooden cross is once again propped up in the dirt in front of the tree. “What the fuck?” I actually say out loud before bending down, grabbing the cross, and snapping it in two. The sound of the wood breaking echoes too loudly through the trees. Holding a piece in each hand, I look around guiltily, as though someone will appear to reprimand me. Nothing happens, of course, so I fling the pieces in opposite directions.