I bite my lip, not looking at her. I don’t want to tell her the truth, but I can’t seem to think of a lie fast enough.

“Looking for Oliver.”

“The boy you found in the woods?” Her eyebrows lift and so does her upper lip—smirking.

“He was gone when I woke up. I just—I didn’t know what happened. I thought something was wrong.”

“You were worried about him?” she says, her grin spreading wider.

“No.” I shake my head. “I just thought it was weird that he left before the sun was up.”

Suzy stops shaking and she leans forward. Her curiosity has cured the cold inside her.

I scrape a match against the edge of the stove, and it sparks to life—the brightest thing in the house—then I wait for the flame to catch on the small twigs scattered across the bottom of the stove. The glow of the fire soon spreads over the larger logs and I close the door, letting the heat build inside.

“He stayed here last night?” she asks.

I stand up and cross into the kitchen, feeling on edge—I don’t want to talk about this, about him. “He didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I say. Or it was all just a game, I think. A stupid prank, and I fell for it. A dare from the other boys, who have never seen the inside of my house. Maybe they dared him to steal one of the lost items while I slept, but when I do a quick survey of the living room, nothing seems to be missing.

Something else is going on that I don’t understand.

But Suzy’s grin is so wide that even her ears raise up slightly. “Why doesn’t he want to stay at the camp?” she asks.

“I’m not sure.” Of anything.

“He probably just wants to stay here with you,” she suggests through the broad row of her grinning teeth.

I shake my head—“I doubt it”— and pull down the box of oatmeal from the cupboard.

“Wait.” Suzy sits up straighter. “Does he know what happened to the kid who died?”

My fingers touch the edge of the counter, feeling the cold tile, the divot where I once dropped a glass honey jar and chipped the surface. Glass shattered and honey dripped everywhere. Mom was furious, but Grandma only cooed and sang a song about honey making the house smell sugary sweet. I think she made it up on the spot to make me feel better.

“He said he doesn’t,” I answer, remembering the stunned look that spread across Oliver’s face when I told him. But maybe I misread everything in his cool-green eyes. Maybe I’m foolish to think anything he’s told me is the truth.

“It was probably just an accident anyway,” Suzy adds, sinking back into the couch cushions, suddenly bored again.