“I'm kind of cold,” I said, glancing outside quickly, wishing Roger-​son would just pull up, so I could explain everything while I still had the chance. “Oh, nonsense, it's over seventy out,” she said, walking over and beginning to tug at my sleeve. “Let us see the dress by itself.”

“Mom, I don't want to,” I said, clinging to my cuffs even as she tried to pull it off of me. Rina looked at me, raising her eyebrows. “Oh, don't be silly,” my mother said, laughing easily. “It's a sleeveless dress, Caitlin, and you have such lovely arms. You should show them off!”

“Mom”

“Just let me see for a second.” She just would not let up, reaching behind me to pull at the collar, her thumb brushing the tender spot I had back there, and it hurt. “I'm cold,” I said again. “Oh, please. Do this one thing for your poor mother,” she said, jabbing at the bruise now, and I winced, pulling myselfhardout of her grasp. “I said no,” I said firmly, and her face fell, shocked, as if I'd slapped her. She dropped her hands and they just hung there, limp, in front of her. “Aren't you listening to me?” Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then she swallowed shakily and said, “I'm sorry, Caitlin. I... I just wanted to see how it looked.” She was looking at me as if I'd somehow become possessed, changing right before her eyes. As if just then, at that second, she saw who I'd become over all these months, and it scared her. I felt like some prickly animal, lashing out, scared as those ugly possums that sometimes stumbled out into daylight. “We should go,” Rina said quickly, picking up the bag my mother had packed for us. “Thanks for the food, Mrs. O'Koren. We'll be back by six-​thirty at the latest.”

“Fine,” my mother said, one hand fluttering to her mouth as she forced a smile. “Have fun.” I was only half-​listening to Rina as we drove out of the neighborhood and she kept up a constant chatter, talking about Jeff and her life, her voice floating out behind us. But all I could do was feel my dread building as I watched the road whisk by in the side mirror, miles and miles of it, each one taking me farther from home.

By the time we pulled onto the highway that passed Corinna's, there was a part of me I was afraid would explode. I kept thinking of Rogerson showing up at my house, beeping the horn. Waiting. And the penalty I'd pay, the hardest of fouls, when he found out I was gone. “Rina,” I said quickly as Corinna's came into view, “turn in here.”

“What?” she said. I'd interrupted her in mid-​story, something about Jeff's ex- girlfriend and a series of mysterious earrings she kept finding in his couch cushions. “Here?”

“Yes.”

She hung a hard left, spinning out gravel as we started down the dirt road to their driveway. Mingus was sitting on the porch, and he started barking when he saw us. I didn't see Corinna's car.

“What is this place?” Rina said, cutting off the engine. She glanced around, taking in the trailer next door and the huge field to our left that always smelled like manure. “Just a friend of mine's,” I said, getting out of the car. “I'll be right back.”

I started up to the house, praying that Corinna was home. She would understand this, could get in touch with Rogerson or explain if he showed up there before coming to look for me. I was already planning what I'd say to her, how she'd shake those bracelets and fix everything, as I started up the stairs, glanced through the screen door and saw the living room. It was mostly empty. The couch was still there, and the TV, but all the knickknacks the blue glass in the windowsill, the framed Ansel Adams prints, the clock where the numbers were marked by steaming coffee cupswere gone. As were the afghan from the couch, all of Corinna's buttons from the coffee table, and the picture I'd taken of her sitting on the front porch with Mingus. It was all just gone. I stepped inside, letting the door fall softly shut behind me. Outside I could see Rina in the car, picking at her bangs impatiently, fingers drumming on the outside door. I pushed the kitchen door open: it, too, was stripped of just about everything, even the velvet Elvis. Mingus's bowl was still there, on the cracked tile, and the sink was full of dishes, the window over the small table open, drapes blowing in the breeze. “She's gone,” I heard Dave say behind me, and I turned around to see him standing there, in a pair of shorts, barefoot. He was holding a pack of cigarettes, his hair sticking up in all directions, a crease mark across his face from sleeping. “She left yesterday.”

“What?” I said. “Where did she go?” He looked down at the cigarettes, shaking one out of the pack and sticking it in his mouth. "Home.

California. I don't know. Anywhere away from me.“ He laughed as he lit the cigarette, then coughed a couple of times, closing his eyes. ”Had enough of my shit, I guess.“ Outside, Rina beeped the horn, and Dave glanced behind him, pushing the kitchen door open to glance out the front window at her. ”Um ... did she say anything?“ I asked him. ”I mean...“ ”Nope,“ he said, shaking his head. Then he smiled, kind of grimly, and flicked his ash into the sink. ”It's been coming a while, I guess. I just didn't think she'd really go, you know?“ He rubbed one hand over his head, his hair springing up underneath his palm. ”I justI didn't think she'd really go.“ And then he laughed, like it was funny, but he wouldn't look at me. All this time, Corinna had been the only one who just took me as I was, not caring about whether I wore primary colors, or stuck with cheerleading, or spent too much time with Rogerson. And now, she was gone. Rina beeped the horn again, longer this time. She hated to wait. ”So,“ Dave said, ”you wanna smoke a bowl or something?“ And then he smiled at me, and I felt strange, as if it was suddenly wrong for me to be there. ”No,“ I said. ”I mean, I have a friend waiting for me.“ ”Tell her to come in,“ he said. ”No, I should go.“ I took a step forward and he didn't move, so I dodged around him, knocking my hipbone against the handle of the stove. I could smell himlike sweat and sleep and I was suddenly disgusted with both of us. ”Come back later,“ he called out as the kitchen door swung shut behind me. ”I'll be here. Okay?" I walked quickly through the living room, hitting the screen door hard with the palm of my hand. But just as I started to step out on the porch, I saw something sitting on the little table in a small glass dish where Corinna always kept her keys. The bracelets. They were all there, stacked neatly, glinting in the small square of sunlight coming through the window above them, like a treasure, shining and waiting for me to find them.