NOLAN IS MOPING at one of the tables at work the next day while Colleen is at the grocery store for a training shift—or so she says.

"What are you reading, buddy?" I ask him between customers, even though it's clearly a comic book. Things have been strained between us since he called me overbearing. I don't hold it against him; I remember what it was like to be angsty and thirteen and mad at the world. But he hurt my feelings, and I'm pretty sure he knows it.

When Nolan doesn't answer, I sigh and turn away from him, ready to keep serving. The diner is steadily busy today, and the chatter in the air, along with the smell of maple and bacon, relaxes me. It's a normalcy I've gotten used to since I started working when I was sixteen. Mom chirps menu suggestions at a table with the mid-morning sun as her backdrop. It's nice to see her in her own skin again.

Nolan's voice stops me in my tracks.

"Carson was supposed to teach me to play guitar last night," he says. "He never showed up." Frowning, I face him, but Nolan's still looking at the comic book. "I waited at his trailer for two hours."

"Two hours? Why didn't you go home?"

"He said he'd come. I'd seen him at the park earlier, and he told me to meet him at his trailer later. Then when I went over he wasn't home, so I sat by the firepit and waited."

Jesus, Blue, what the hell happened last night? When he left work, I had a bad feeling—but what if it was worse than I thought? Maybe he went to Shae's. Either way, he has some nerve making plans with my little cousin then blowing him off. I can see it all over Nolan's face: he's hurt.

"Carson probably fell asleep," I reason. "It wasn't because of you, bud. He didn't mean to ditch you."

"I knocked on the door and his mom said he went out."

"Well... that's not very nice of him. Carson's shift starts soon, why don't you stick around and ask him what happened?" It'd be good for Nolan to learn how to stand up for himself. What Carson did to him wasn't fair, no matter what happened. But Nolan is already shoving his comic book into his backpack.

"I'm gonna go meet up with Mike and them and go biking," Nolan says. I hesitate; part of me wants to keep an eye on him, but now isn't the time to mom him. I need to let him breathe, and be a kid sometimes, because that's what I'm trying to protect, isn't it?

"Okay," I say. "Just make sure you're back at the park for dinner. Your mom's cooking tonight."

"Yeah, sure."

With that, Nolan zips out of the restaurant. Through the windows, I watch him unlock his BMX bike—the last present his sorry dad ever bought him—and take off into the sunny day. He reminds me of a little lost soul.

Carson owes him a big-time apology. It's all I can think about for the next hour as I keep working. When the clock strikes 9:58 a.m., Carson finally shows up. I'm wiping up a coffee spill when he breezes straight into the sunroom, and the smell of cigarettes carries on the wind he leaves behind.

"Hey," I say when he comes out, trying to act casual. Things were weird yesterday, and the weight of that lingers in the space between us—but I can't let that stop me. "You forget something last night?"

"No." He goes straight for the coffee machine.

I lean against the bar and focus on Carson's back as he pours himself a cup of coffee. "My cousin, Blue."

He doesn't reply, so I take a closer look at him. While his skin normally has an earthy undertone to it, right now he's chalky-pale, and his hair sticks up in unruly spikes.

"Did you hear me?" I ask.

Silence.

"Blue."

Still no response. His arm jitters as he pours cream into his cup.

"Blue? Hello? Carson!"

He jolts. Coffee sloshes in the mug and spills on the floor. "What?" He faces me. "Jesus, Jill. What?"

"Why are you ignoring me?"

"I didn't fucking hear you."

I flinch, and guilt clouds his eyes. He sets the mug down and wrings his hand along the back of his neck.

"Sorry. I didn't sleep much last night."

I look away and cross my arms. Whether he meant to or not, I don't like being snapped at. Dad used to snap at me all the time; when I'd tug at his sleeve trying to get him to listen to me play a song, when I'd get a good grade on a spelling test and would want to show him.

"You blew my cousin off last night," I say, starting to get pissed off. "That wasn't cool. You should apologize to him."

"What? Oh, no." Carson pinches the bridge of his nose. "I completely forgot. How mad is he?"

"He's not mad, Blue. He's hurt." He says nothing, so I go on. "Listen, Nolan's dad just took off on him. If you're not going to follow through, it'd be better if you just didn't make plans with him, okay? He doesn't need to feel unwanted by anyone else."

"Jill, I swear I didn't mean to, I—"

Mom hops over and cuts our conversation short. I know Carson is going through stuff at home, and he technically doesn't owe me or Nolan anything. I'm trying to understand—but it's hard to not be frustrated with him right now.

"Hiya, Carson." Mom slides an order through the window to the kitchen. "How are ya?"

"Okay, ma'am." He averts his stare.

"You don't look so well." Carson tries to hide his face, but Mom is a shark smelling blood when she senses something off. She forces him to look at her, and her lips purse as her eyes scan his face. "Uh-oh, someone had a rough night. Was it beer or liquor? Either way, some Advil should do the trick. We've got some in the back."

"No, thank you, I'm good—" Carson hacks a cough into his forearm. Mom and I jolt away as he leans his hands on the bar and pinches his eyes shut. "Fuck." The veins on his forehead bulge. When he stands upright, a thick, pigmented stream of red leaks from his left nostril. He touches his upper lip with his fingers, and his eyes go wide at the crimson coating them.

"Blue, what the..." I stop myself, and the realization hits me like a two-by-four over the back of the head.

Of course that's why he blew Nolan off.

To hell with trying to understand. Now I am pissed.

"Oh, sweetheart." Mom rubs Carson's shoulder, her eyes as soft as flower petals. "Go on, go rest up a bit before you start."

"I'm sorry." Head bent low, he hurries into the sunroom and closes the door behind him. The silence he leaves behind is deafening.

My heart is a wild bird in my chest. I wanted to believe in him, to believe he could stay clean. How naïve is that? Now all I want is to kick myself in the face, because it isn't just anger that fastens around my throat: it's disappointment.

"He told me he was clean," I say, and Mom touches my arm. "I wanted to believe he could stay clean."

"This kind of thing isn't simple, Jillie." Mom moves her thumb in a soothing, circular motion. I shrug away from her touch.

"It's none of my business anyway. Whether he's using or not—that's his shit. But I don't want to see it, Mom. I don't want to have to see it in my face, like I had to see it all the goddamn time with Dad. And I sure as hell don't want Nolan to see it. How are you so okay with this?"

"I'm not okay with it. It breaks my heart, and frankly I don't want to see it, either. But I knew it would be a risk when I hired him."

"Then why did you?"

A sad smile reaches her eyes. "Try to understand, addiction is a sickness. Your father had it, your aunt has it, and so did Grandpa."

I stiffen. Mom doesn't talk about Grandpa often, not since he died.

She continues, "The fact that Carson was trying to get a job and get in line showed a lot of strength to me. And he's still here trying. Everyone deserves a chance to turn their life around. Some people just need more work than others."

"That's what you used to say about dad," I say without thinking, and the hurt is immediate on Mom's face.

"With him, that was my mistake," she says in a low voice so customers won't hear. "He was a lost cause long before I even met him, and I see that now. I'm so sorry, Jillie. I never should have let him traumatize you the way he did."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I just don't know how to deal with this. I'm so mad at Carson."

She gently squeezes my arm. "It's okay. Your father was already a rising rock star when I met him, as much of an adrenaline junkie as he was a cocaine addict. But Carson is just a kid, and I'm inclined to believe it isn't too late for him. If you care about him, maybe don't give up on him so quick."

I do care about him, but that's why I'm so upset; I told myself I wouldn't let someone like him into my life ever again, and here I am, giving a damn about what happens to him. But the thought of forcing him out of my life—of reverting him from "my friend" to "just a coworker"—doesn't sound good, either.

Mom pats my back, just as Paul pushes an order through the window. "We have customers, so I'm getting back to work. See if he's well enough to make it through the shift, okay? If not, he can go home early. We'll figure it out."

Mom whisks away with the plate, and I face the sunroom door. I meant what I told Clarissa when I said we're just friends, and Carson has become my closest friend other than Val. But if he's my friend, I should be there for him in the same way I would if it were Val in that sunroom.

Swallowing my nerves, I knock on the door. No response, so I push it open.

"Blue?" I hold onto the archway. He sits on the couch and cradles his head with his hands. The blood-spotted Kleenex on the coffee table sends chills up my spine. I've seen this before too many times, and memories of Dad threaten to resurface—but I hold them in.

Hesitantly, I shut the door behind me. I want to ask him what happened last night. Instead I say, "You going to make it to the end of your shift? We're both done at five. Mom and Patricia will do the night shift."

"Yeah," he grumbles. "I'll make it."

I sit next to him on the couch, but he won't look at me.

"I'm not proud of this," he says. I want to ask why he did it, but the bell outside dings: more customers.

"I have to help my mom," I say. "Come out when you're ready. And let me drive you home after work."

He rubs his eyes with his palms. "Yeah. Okay."

***

We listen to Nirvana on the drive to the trailer park.

"When I'm feeling anxious," I say, "I love listening to my favorite music and going for a drive. It's the best way to get a clear head. So maybe this will help you."

Carson doesn't reply, just bites his nail and watches the world outside pass by. Sunset settles over the town, and shadows from the trees crisscross over the roads. We pass under the oxidized sign that reads Golden Dawn Trailer Park. Weird to come here for anyone other than Nolan or Colleen.

As I'm navigating the park, we pass by the lot Mom, Dad, and I used to live on. They've installed a new mobile home there, tore our old one down because of black mold or something. I never bothered to confirm the story. That trailer held some of my worst memories. While it's nice to know it's gone forever, I admit, it makes me a little sad too; that place exists only in my memory now. Sometimes I wish I could forget it altogether.

I stop the station wagon outside Carson's place. Looks like his brothers aren't home, but the lights are on in the other trailer. I put the car in idle and face him.

"You feeling any better?" I ask.

Carson wipes his palms on his jeans. "Yeah. A lot better, actually." The color has returned to his cheeks, but he still won't meet my eyes. "Sorry for being a dick earlier."

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to Nolan."

"I will. I'll make it right, I promise."

"Okay." I smack my lips. "Will you tell me what happened last night?"

"I was gonna head home, but then Shae called and... I don't know, Jill. Shit was piling up. I was stressed out, needed an escape." He pauses. "Are you pissed?"

"I don't know. It's just, you were doing so well."

"Yeah. It's the longest I've gone in a couple years." A forlorn smile tugs at his lips. "Working with you helped. Didn't wanna let you and your mom down."

The thought of having a positive impact on him like that at least gives me hope.

"Now look at me," he says. "You both must think I'm a loser."

I turn my body so I'm facing him in the seat. "We don't think that, Blue. We just want you to get better."

"I want that too. I hate this feeling."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"'Cause at the time, I didn't care how it was gonna affect me right now. Something I always regret."

I wish I could understand this, but I don't. I never did. If it's that detrimental, ask someone for help. I always go to Mom or Val when I'm in a tight spot, mentally, emotionally, or whatever.

But I guess not everyone has that privilege.

"Carse!" Beyond the windshield, a short, thin woman in a pink housecoat runs outside of the trailer. I haven't seen Dorothy Blue in years. Mousy brown hair breezes in thin waves behind as she rushes toward us. Instead of getting out of the car, Carson rolls down the window.

"There you are, baby." Dorothy pokes her head in, eyes glass-like and buggy. "I was so worried about you."

"Mom. Hi. Where're Garnett and Lucas?"

"They're out, don't worry sweetie. If you're still mad at Luke, he'll be gone all night." Dorothy looks at me. "Oh my goodness, Jillian Williams. You know I had a hard time believing my boy was working for your mom, but here you are."

"Hi." I smile. "Yeah, Carson is a great worker."

"How is Sharon? I haven't seen her in years. Or you, for that matter. You're so beautiful!"

"Thank you. And my mom is good."

Dorothy looks mostly the same as I remember, but her skin is now leathery and wrinkled. I've heard all the gossip about her from Mom and other townsfolk—working at Dee's, I tend to overhear a lot of conversations, whether I want to or not. People say Dorothy went "nuts" long before Kevin went to jail. She was an acid junkie in her twenties and now has some permanent scars on her brain because of it. That's why she doesn't work and has her boys grocery shop for her.

She doesn't seem all bad, though, and I know how untrue and catty gossip can be.

"I just made a big pot of your favorite chili, Carse," Dorothy says. "I knew you would come home soon. I just knew it. Jillian, why don't you come on in and have some? It's dinnertime, you must be hungry!"

I tense up. Carson sends me an apologetic look and turns to his mom.

"No, Mom, Jill's gotta go."

"Oh, no! That's too bad, I would love to hear all about how my boy is at work." She blinks at me expectantly, and I shrink under the pressure. Saying no to adults is impossible.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt to come in for a bit," I mumble.

"You sure?" Carson cocks an eyebrow and whispers, "Jill, you don't have to."

"Nonsense!" Dorothy exclaims. "Now I won't take no for an answer. Come on, get on in here."

We follow her to the trailer, and walking up that broken-up cement path reminds me of the night I overheard their yelling. The trailer park is so peaceful right now, it's hard to imagine screams overpowering the cawing of jays and woodpeckers pecking. Golden Dawn is built in a forest, after all, so there's lots of nature. It's the only thing I miss about living in this place.

I wipe my palms on my jeans and walk in behind them. A mildewy smell touches my nose, and the AC unit hurls freezing air at me. The snow's just barely melted, so I don't understand why it's on. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and not just from the temperature. It's weird to be in here, where Carson grew up. Where Garnett and Lucas grew up.

As I'm kicking off my shoes, Carson and Dorothy face each other in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Here." He pulls a fat wad of cash from his pocket. "I cashed it the other day. For bills and stuff. Sorry I haven't been around."

Holy crap. That must be at least three-quarters of his paycheck.

"This is great, Carse." Dorothy grips the money between her thin fingers. "Wow, they are payin' you, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are."

She kisses his cheek. Something like remorse flickers over his face, but he smiles at her anyway, and the whole thing gives me a bad feeling.

"Come on in here, Jillian," Dorothy says. Carson and I exchange a look and follow her into the kitchen. The layout of this unit is different from Colleen's; in fact, the way the kitchen is built like a perfect square reminds me of the trailer I had with Mom and Dad. It's unsettling, but I sit at the round table anyway. Moments later, Dorothy drops two heaping bowls of chili in front of both us and sits without her own. She sips from a yellowing plastic cup of water and blinks at us.

"Well, go ahead, dig in," she urges, and I try a bean. I'm really not hungry, but I don't want to be rude. Carson douses his chili in Frank's Red Hot and shovels it into his mouth like it's his first meal in days. Apparently the spoon isn't enough, because he ditches it and drinks straight from the bowl. I try not to laugh at him, but when he puts it down and has a red mustache, I can't stop giggling.

"Sorry." He wipes his face with a piece of paper towel. "I'm a slob."

We eat in silence. I'm only a quarter through my bowl by the time Carson is done. He chugs some water before he blanches again, like he did earlier at work.

"Oh, shit." He stands up. "I'm not feeling good. Jill, I'm just gonna go lay down for a bit, okay?"

"You good? I thought you were feeling better?"

"I was, I'm just... so tired. Be right back..." He slumps down the hall.

"Poor boy," Dorothy says, and my eyes snap to her.

"Huh?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing dear, I was just thinking out loud. You know, Carson was always so sick when he was a little boy."

"He was?"

"Oh yes. All the time! He was in and out of doctor's' offices and hospitals. Almost thought I was going to lose him when he was a little baby, and again when he was, oh, what was it... ten? Eleven?"

Well I didn't know Carson when he was a baby, but was he sick at eleven? That doesn't sound right. Sometimes he'd be out of it, but I assumed that was because of the rumor that him and Shae huffed glue behind the baseball diamond. "I don't remember Carson being sick much," I say.

"Oh, he was. So sick all the time. It was so hard on me, you know. My older boys were so healthy, but of course there's always a sweet spot for the youngest. He's always been my baby. He just gets so sick."

He was fine before he ate. "Right," I say. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm an only child, so... I'm the only baby I guess."

"Sharon must be so proud of you. You're so beautiful."

"Thank you..."

She's staring, pupils so big her irises are silvery rims around them.

"Oh! Let me show you something!" Dorothy saunters into the living room and returns with a fat brown photo album with a faded leather exterior. She slaps it on the table and opens it. The pages schlick as they pull apart. "Here's a good one. This is me when I was just a little older than you with baby Garnett. Isn't he the sweetest?"

"Yeah. He's really cute." Okay, baby Garnett might've been cute, but I freaking hate that guy now. Obviously I can't say that to his mom, but this is awkward. Dorothy flips another sticky, laminated page.

The minutes tick by as Dorothy talks; she has a long-winded, detailed story for every photo, like how she had the worst cold of her life this one time she had to take Carson to the doctor because he had chicken pox, or how she broke her leg once but still walked Carson to school. When the digital clock on the wall behind her shows it's been almost an hour, I can't help but grow restless. How do I get out of this without being a bitch to Carson's mom? And where is Carson?

"Oh, and here I am with Carse when he was just a kid," she rambles. "I think I still have this dress kicking around somewhere. I never throw anything out."

As much as Dorothy is getting under my skin, looking at this photo sucks me back in time. Back to kindergarten. "It's crazy," I say, "but I remember him in that hat. He used to wear it backwards with his hair poking out. Still does sometimes." He's cute. I remember this version of Carson like it was yesterday.

"Do you want the dress?" Dorothy asks and catches me off guard. Why would I want her dress?

"Thank you for the offer, but that's really okay. I don't wear dresses much."

"You would look so amazing in it though. Believe it or not, I was a pretty little thing like you once."

I laugh and stand. "Anyway, I really do need to go. Thank you for the chili, really, it was amazing. I'm just going to say bye to Carson. I have to be somewhere, so I should go."

"Okay sweetie, sorry for talking your ear off." She chortles. "We don't get visitors too much and I don't leave the trailer much on account of my—oh, you don't want to hear it. Okay, okay, go on, go say bye to Carson then."

I scurry down the hallway. Away from her voice, I can finally breathe again. Dorothy is nice and all, but boy is she intense.

The floor is covered in a crosshatch linoleum that bubbles up at the baseboards. Pictures of Garnett, Lucas, and Carson line the walls, most of them crooked and unaligned. At a picture of a young Kevin Blue with a mullet, holding a rifle in front of a dead deer, I'm reminded that even though he's in jail, I'm in his home too.

The chills come back in full force.

"Blue?" I call out.

"In here," he says groggily. A door at the end of the hall is open a crack, and it creaks when I push it. As soon as I see Carson curled under the brown covers of his bed, the weirdness of his mom, my anxiety about being in his place—it all fades. The room's about the same size as mine with one closet and a dresser scattered with stuff like cards, cologne, and empty packs of cigarettes. An uneven red carpet is on the floor, kicked up on one corner. And everything smells like him.

"I don't know what came over me." He faces me, the back of his head pressed into his pillow. "I'm just so tired."

The coke must've sucked the life out of him, but I don't say that.

"So this is your room, huh?" I rock on my heels. "Mind if I poke around?"

"Go right ahead, but I doubt you'll find anything you like."

That isn't true. I like everything. A Nirvana poster is next to a Labatt Blue flag on his wall; pretty sure his dad's from Canada, so that explains the affinity for Canadian beer. His nightstand has a bookshelf underneath it cluttered with kid stories like Lemony Snicket, probably because he hasn't updated his collection since he was ten. A toy firetruck with a broken ladder is on the floor next to a pair of old shoes, and I pick it up.

"I remember you chose a fireman as your career project in the fifth grade," I say.

Carson laughs. "Rescue Hero, actually. That project was dumb. As if little kids know what they actually wanna be when they grow up."

"Some of them do. I did."

"You said rock star."

I cringe. "Right. Okay, rock star isn't me. Musician is, though. What about you? Still want to be a firefighter or whatever? I could never do that, especially not after what happened to my grandpa."

"He died in a fire, right? I remember that."

Of course it isn't easy to talk about, but after all these years, I've grown numb to it. "Yeah. He fell asleep drunk with a cigarette still lit. The whole apartment went up. Thankfully, Grandma was with us that night, but..."

Shuddering, I hug myself. My grandpa drank a lot, but he was kind; he meant well. I miss him every day. He had furry salt and pepper caterpillar brows and a big nose that was so veiny it was purple, but he had warm eyes. The apartment building he and Grandma lived in downtown is still charred, even after they repaired it, but I haven't walked down that street in years. Cancer took Grandma only a year later.

"I'm not scared of fire, but I am scared of losing somebody else in it," I say. "I hate thinking about him burning alive like that."

Carson's quiet for a moment. "It's not the flames that kill you, it's the smoke."

A thick silence falls over us. In a way, it's strangely comforting to think maybe Grandpa passed out before he ever knew what was happening.

"But to answer your question," Carson goes on, "nah, being a firefighter would take school outside Hull. And I won't be leaving this place anytime soon."

"Why not? You could do it if you wanted. You could save up working at Dee's then get financial aid. That's what Val and I are doing."

"I can't really save up. I have too much shit to pay for."

This is none of my business, but I don't like how he gave almost his entire paycheck to his mom. Something smells seriously off here.

"Can I ask you something personal?" I sit on the edge of the bed, and his tired eyes don't leave my face. I try not to think about his (alleged) crush on me as I say, "Why'd you give your mom all your cash?"

"She hasn't been getting as much from welfare since I turned eighteen. She needs help with bills and stuff, and Garnett and Lucas haven't been that much help. My mom's got... issues. She can't work right now."

It's sweet he's stepping up for his family, but if Carson saved up that money for his future, he could go to any college he wanted. He wouldn't have to feel moored to Hull.

"I don't wanna be a firefighter anymore anyway," he goes on. "That was little kid shit. Little kids dream about like, Rescue Heroes or whatever, but then you get older and you start to see shit for how it really is, and I don't know—I'm not the heroic type."

"I think you are." I place the truck on his lap. "Or you could be, if you wanted to."

"Yeah, right." He fidgets with the ladder before he tosses it to the side. "I can't bother thinking about the future, Jill. Too busy worrying about right now."

"I understand that. In a lot of ways, I'm the same; I know I can't leave Hull until I'm ready. Until Mom can handle the diner and my cousin is older. But it doesn't hurt to dream."

Peacefully, Carson's eyes shut. He looks cute all sleepy like this, and against my best judgement, something he said a couple weeks ago flares in my mind. Something about the trailer park walls being thin, and for a moment, I imagine what it'd be like to be under his covers—to be under him—and a shiver moves through my core.

Carson is hot; I've never denied it. But I shouldn't think about him like that. I don't want to.

"I should let you sleep." I stand.

Carson rolls over and curls up under his blankets. "Thanks for coming in. Sorry about my mom. She's a little intense."

"That's okay. I'll see you at work. Feel better, okay?"

"Thanks." As I'm leaving the room, his voice stops me. "Jill, wait. I still owe your cousin that apology. Bring him back here when the sun goes down—I wanna take you guys somewhere."

Looking over my shoulder, I smile. "Really? Where?"

"It's a surprise."

"You'll be here?"

"Swear on my mother's life."

After a pause, I nod. "Okay. We'll be back over soon."