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doesn’t matter.”
    But I know it does because it always matters.
    “Is Daddy—”
    “Daddy is mad.”
    “—there?”
    “He is so mad he is staying away.”
    “Can you see him?”
    “He told me to stay in Coleman. I did for a really long time but Stick pooped so it stinks and then the lid fell open so it wasn’t—”
    “It’s okay,” she says and closes her eyes for too long. “Listen. I need you to listen. I need you to be brave, Anna, do you hear?”
    “Yes. With poop?”
    “I need you to get your brother off the island. It’s not safe.”
    “Are we going home?”
    “The canoe. Drag it into the water. Take your paddle.”
    I don’t answer. I see the blood on her neck.
    “Did you see it?” she asks.
    “See what?”
    “A bad thing?”
    “Blood.”
    “More than blood?”
    I think and it might mean Stick’s poop or that I got out of Coleman and the dark, but one of the bad things comes out of my mouth: “The black dog.”
    “Yes, away from the black dog.”
    “He’s scary.”
    “Push off in the canoe and paddle, like I showed you.”
    “One, two, three, four.”
    “Just like that, Anna. Get your brother into the canoe and go to the middle of the lake.”
    “You come too.”
    “No. I am staying here.”
    “No.” I shake my head.
    “My neck is hurt. I can’t move.”
    “I want to go home.”
    “Get into the canoe and paddle away. Wait for us.”
    “Can we go home?”
    “Anna.” She said it sharp and then a choke like her orange juice went in the wrong pipe.
    “Daddy is mad,” I say.
    “No. You do this for Daddy. He loves you.”
    “So he’s not mad?”
    “For me. Both of us. Do you understand?”
    “I want to go home.”
    “Go, Anna,” she says in the means-it voice.
    “Yes, Momma.”
    And the means-it voice is when I have to tidy up toys even if Sticky made them go on the floor and only some of them I did. His trucks are in the truck bin even though I didn’t take them out because I don’t like trucks so everybody knows they are Sticky’s. Even though it is my job to put them away. The worst is when I have to look after Stick because he is my little brother and I want to play magic in the castle and all he knows is to knock it down again and again. I put the tower on the castle and he takes his fist and knocks it and he thinks that is a funny game. It is not funny and my magic fairy has no castle. I don’t want to do things and the means-it voice makes me because I don’t want Momma to feel mad. Not now not even ever. I am her special.
    But I don’t move. I crouch in and put my cheek back on Momma’s because even though it isn’t warm it is a smooth cheek, not wiry like Daddy’s. And Gwen wants her cheek too so we both cuddle in. Her hot tears are there and Gwen sticks out her paw to wipe my momma’s tear because Gwen knows that Momma doesn’t want me to see her cry. Except now she doesn’t seem to care. And Momma is taking breaths and she opens her eyes and looks at me and I smile because it is nice to sit and have her look at me.
    “Anna, do this?”
    “What?”
    She closes her eyes and opens them twice. “Take your brother for a canoe ride.”
    “Just us?”
    “It will be fun. You are big enough to paddle, right?”
    “Yes.” I am proud and sit up. “Are you coming too?”
    “Daddy and I will follow you.”
    “Soon?”
    “When it’s time, we’ll be there.”
    “Now?”
    “We will be waiting. Daddy and I will be there.”

8.
    Stick is still sitting in the tent. He is on Momma’s sleeping bag and his poop in his pj’s stinks up.
    “Come here,” I say to him. “Take off those pj’s.”
    He doesn’t like his poop because he stands up and comes to the door. Usually he doesn’t do what I say because he only wants to listen to Momma. I pull on the bottom of his pj’s and they come down a little and the poop is inside and it makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth yuck. I pull them back up. They have ducks on them and they used to be mine