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to black.

Mary stood by the closed door, watching the doorknob jiggle.

Jonny rapped against the door more forcefully. “Oh, May? Oh, my darling sister?”

“Mom’s not home,” Mary said through the door.

“May, I don’t have a key,” Jonny said. “Are you going to let us in or what?”

She heard voices and laughter. The other boy said something about checking around the back. Was the glass door locked? Yes, Mary remembered. She’d locked every door and window. “Mom said not to let you inside,” she said through the closed door. “I’m sorry.”

“Mary, Jesus,” Jonny snapped. “Just open the door.”

Mary turned the lock, click, and stepped back.

The door swung open and Jonny tumbled inside, waving in his two companions. Mary backed up another step. A ripple of apprehension floated down her spine. “I’m alone,” she repeated. “Are you here to pay back the money you owe me?”

“May-May, my sweet May!” Jonny said, opening his arms in greeting. “Vivvy, Dez, this is my little sister, May-May. Any food in the kitchen? Mom’s always got good snacks. Ernesto loves those pretzel nuggets! We’re starved, May, famished!”

Mary crossed her arms. Dez had a shabby, scarecrow-left-in-the-rain appearance, faded jeans and a rumpled shirt. Vivvy, who was surely Vivian Connelly, Griff’s sister, had all the features of faded beauty: long, straight hair, narrow hips, slender shoulders—but with orange-blue discolorations on one arm, like she’d bumped into a brick wall. Mary decided by the looks of things that her brother was very much with the wrong crowd, and he fit in perfectly.

Vivvy and Dez glanced around, as if casing a bank for security cameras. They nodded in Mary’s direction without ever looking her in the eyes. “There’s some frozen pizza, I think,” Mary offered.

“Where’s the booze at?” Dez asked. He giggled softly. A joke that wasn’t a joke. Vivian, who had Griff’s same complexion and hair color, smacked Dez playfully and shushed him.

“Whoa, popcorn!” Jonny lurched at the bowl on the dining room table. He shoved a fistful into his mouth, dropping kernels to the floor. Mary’s art supplies were spread out on the table.

“Jonny? Jonny!” Mary repeated, trying to get his attention. He seemed high on something, unfocused, giddy. “What’s going on?”

He turned and, with some effort, focused on his sister. A crooked smile reached his lips. “May Queen! We decided to bring the party here.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mary said.

Dez and Vivvy tottered toward the kitchen. Dez paused at a photo on the wall, snickered as if it said something funny. A private joke. “That you, man?” he called to Jonny.

“What? Yeah, that’s us, Cape Cod,” Jonny replied, walking over to the framed photograph. “Long time ago, right, May? You must have just turned three. Our last vacation together with Mom and Dad.” He scratched uncomfortably at the inside of his elbow. “Anyway, help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen, guys! I’ll be in inna minute. Just need to”—he waggled a hand in the direction of the stairs—“get a few things.”

He stomped up the stairs while the others walked loose-limbed into the kitchen, flicking on the lights and noisily opening cupboards and drawers. Mary stood as if under siege, not sure where to turn. Her phone was charging on the table. She unplugged it and slipped it into her back pocket. What should she do?

“How do you work this oven?” Vivian called. Mary hurried into the kitchen. Vivian Connelly had already placed a box of frozen pizza onto a baking rack, and was vacantly hovering a finger over the oven controls.

“Um, you were going to take it out of the box, right?” Mary said, as if talking to a child. She stepped in, gently brushed Viv aside, removed the pizza from the box, removed the plastic wrapper, and set the controls. “It should be ready in fifteen minutes,” she told them, setting the timer.

Dez pulled out a box of cereal and had plunged his arm into it up to the elbow.

“We have bowls, spoons,” Mary offered, voice dripping with snark. She made a silent note to discard the box after they left.

Dez kept chewing. He probably didn’t realize she was talking. He seemed pretty absorbed in chewing, as if it required all his concentration.

Jonny thumped down the stairs.

He was carrying a Tiffany lamp and a shoebox.

“What are you doing?” Mary asked.

“I need this for my apartment,” Jonny said.

“That was in Mom’s room,” Mary said. “I think it’s expensive.”

Jonny sniffed, rubbed his nose with the sleeve of his upper arm. “I hope so. Anyway, I need light. I can’t sit in the dark, May. You guys have all this fancy stuff while I’m in a dingy hovel. Is that fair?”

“What’s in there?” Mary asked, gesturing to the box.

“Baseball cards. I’m going to sell ’em,” he said, sniffingly.

“Those were Dad’s,” Mary said. “You can’t—”

“Calm down, May, it’s not his ashes, it’s just cardboard. I can get good money for these.”

“His ashes,” Mary repeated in disbelief. It felt like a punch to the gut.

Jonny stood, slightly wavering.

“You’re gross. I hate you,” Mary said. “Get out. Mom will be back any minute. You don’t want to be here when—”

“She’s in the city, seeing a play,” Jonny said. “Mom won’t be back for hours. How do you think I knew to come over here?”

“You’re such a jerk,” Mary said.

Jonny nodded, as if in agreement. He even smiled wanly, looking sad and stricken. Maybe somewhere deep down she had wounded him.

“Yo, look what I found,” Dez cried, entering the room. He held up a quart-size bottle of liquor. “Rum from Jamaica, mon!”

“That’s not yours,” Mary protested.

“Your mom won’t miss it,” Dez told Jonny, ignoring Mary completely. “It was way, way in the back.”

“Get out,” Mary ordered.

Dez looked from Mary to Jonny. “What’s up with this? You said she was cool.”

“She is,” Jonny murmured. He lowered his head, then perked up again, raising the lamp in triumph. “Let’s go. I got what we needed.”

“Score!” Vivvy celebrated, twirling car keys on her index finger. “Bye, bye, little sister. It’s been real.”

“You’re driving?” Mary

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