Leaping over the schoolhouse steps and into a fluffy mound of snow, I stomp toward the path weaving through town as the weight of responsibility settles over me.

Every day after school, I clean and prepare whatever animal Papa's intended for our meal. Then, depending on the need, I wash clothes, feed livestock, collect eggs, and make sure there's plenty of wood for the stove. When those chores are complete, I help Honor with his schoolwork, and only then am I able to start on my own. At the end of the day, I fall into bed exhausted, my mind too busy for sleep.

Honor has his share of chores too, but he's not been the same since Mama passed away and I'm mindful not to overwork him.

Now, his grades are suffering. I need to do better. To somehow try harder. I can't fail him, too.

"Faith!" a voice calls out. I glance over my shoulder. Eliza trots toward me, her fingers hooked around the edges of her hat, holding it in place. Honor, Thomas, and Victor are at her heels. "Why did you walk past us? We've been waiting for you."

"Sorry, I must have been preoccupied." It's not a lie.

"Did you get into trouble for daydreaming?" Honor asks. His nose is red from the cold.

I can't keep the irritation from my voice. "No, I didn't get in trouble." I stuff my hands into my pockets and continue down the path. Trees line both sides of us, their naked branches doing little to ward off the sharp breeze.

"Hogwash!" Victor snorts. "I bet Miss Perkins told Faith she'll be wearing the dunce cap tomorrow."

I stop walking and turn to face him, my hands clenched inside my coat. "She told me the dunce cap was made special for you. That's why you're the only one who's worn it."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire! Did you hear everyone laughing at you?" Wiry black hair pokes out from beneath his hat as he kicks at the snow.

Even though he's younger, he's several inches taller than me, but I stare him down all the same. "Why do you insist on walking home with us? It's not like we pretend to enjoy your company."

Victor gives me a smug smile. "I was just telling Honor and Thomas about the Charles Gardner Radbourn baseball card that came in a pack of tobacco. Ma let me keep it."

"Guess what?" I say, my eyes as wide as I can make them. "No one cares about your stupid baseball card." I glance at Eliza before marching off in front of them. In an instant, she's at my side.

Victor lumbers after us and lets out another snort. "Says you! But then, you say a lot of things. Ma said you should watch your mouth if you know what's good for you." He's in the mood to fight, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

"I know who Charles Gardner Radbourn is." Honor's short legs do their best to keep up. "He plays for the Providence Grays. Papa saw his photograph in the doctor's newspaper last summer."

Victor gallops ahead of us and spins around to walk backward. "Everyone knows who Charles Gardner Radbourn is. He's only the greatest baseball player in the world—besides Larry Corcoran. I have his card, too."

"Of course, you do." Eliza rolls her eyes at him. "You're the most spoiled person in all of South Harbor."

"What's the matter—jealous?" Victor sticks out his tongue and slides it around like a rattlesnake.

Before she can answer, Thomas catches my eye with a wink. "I bet you can't wait to show us those cards. Isn't that right, Victor?"

Victor stills in the path, forcing us to stop walking. "What do you mean?"

"Then we'll know if you're telling the truth," Thomas says, sliding up next to him.

"Um ..." Victor turns away and starts again toward town. "Maybe some other time."

"But what's wrong with right now?" Thomas' hazel eyes twinkle as he nods for us to follow. "We're going past your house, anyway. You don't want us to think you're lying, do you?"

"Ma's not feeling well today, that's why. And with my father out of town, she doesn't have the time or energy to entertain the likes of you."

"She doesn't have to entertain us. We just want to see your cards and then we'll leave." Thomas cocks an eyebrow. "Unless you have something to hide?"

Victor sneers over his shoulder. "I'm not hiding anything. I'm just not in the mood, that's all."

"Look, sissy—over there!" Honor tugs on my sleeve and points into the trees.

We all stop and stare. Several yards in, a golden doe wanders peacefully through the snow-covered vegetation, her nose to the icy ground. As if sensing our eyes on her, she pauses and looks up. Her white tail twitches behind her, the steam from her breath coiling from each nostril.

"Papa said deer don't come out as much in the winter," Honor says in a loud whisper. He slips his mitted hand into mine, the cotton soft against my chilled skin.

"That's true, they like to hide in their homes and stay warm. Maybe the early winter has it —" A sudden grunt cuts me off.

Without warning, the deer leans into her hind legs then springs forward, ramming the top of her head into a tree. Snow sprinkles down from the branches, the impact of bone hitting bark echoing around us.

Too stunned to move, we stare on as she again slams her skull into the bark, over and over, until ribbons of blood flow from her head and down the sides of her face. Drops of crimson blossom against the white snow.

A distraught whimper skims past Honor's lips. My heart pounds as I spin him around and press his cheek to my coat, shielding him from the gore.

Mesmerized, Victor steps into the trees until he's almost close enough to touch her. "What's it doing?"

But I don't have an answer.

"We should leave. Now." Thomas keeps his eyes on the deer as he drives us forward like a shepherd herding sheep.

Reluctantly, Victor steps back into alignment and we continue through the snow, each of us silent. Once we're far enough down the path, Thomas' voice eases back to the playful tone he had before, but I know him well enough to catch the underlying note of tension.

"Come on, let's see if Victor's a liar. Last one to the store is a rotten egg!" Thomas takes off running, his boots kicking up the latest round of freshly fallen snow.

After a beat of hesitation, Honor and Victor take off after him while Eliza and I lag behind. I can't stop myself from looking back. In the distance, the deer continues its assault on the tree, the snow beneath her hooves mottled with blood.

Eliza brushes her elbow against mine. "That was strange. I've never seen a deer do that before. Have you?"

I'm still looking behind us. "No."

When I force myself to turn away, Thomas is staring at me from over his shoulder. As soon as our eyes meet, he smiles. It stirs something in my stomach, a tingly warmth that slides along my veins and spreads to my limbs. I let it swallow me like sunlight.

"He likes you."

My attention sweeps back to Eliza. "Why do you say that?"

"Because he's always watching you."

"He is not."

She ignores my protest and grins. "I bet you're the future Mrs. Morningstar."

A slow heat rolls over my cheeks. "Stop it. You're being silly."

"Faith Morningstar," she ponders and tilts her head. There's a twinkle in her eye. "It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"About as nice as Eliza Lloyd."

Eliza rolls her eyes at me. "Now who's being silly?" I can feel her gaze drilling into the side of my face. "So, what did Miss Perkins really want to talk about?" she asks.

I exhale, pushing the image of the deer out of my head. My breath hovers between us like a cloud. "Honor's doing poorly in school. She wants me to help him more."

"Did you tell her you already do?"

A gust of wind rushes past. With numb fingers, I tug the collar of my coat closer to block the icy draft. "It doesn't matter. I need to try harder. I owe him that much."

Eliza wrinkles her nose, the constellation of freckles sprinkled across the bridge lighter now than they were over summer. "It's not your fault, you know. You need to stop blaming yourself."

I don't respond because what would be the point? My best friend will never understand. Her mother's still alive.

As we grow closer to the general store, an unwelcome heaviness falls over me when the Milton's house comes into view. Only a short while ago, each window housed a shining brass lamp. Today, planks of wood cover the glass, blocking out the light.

Inside used to be warm and lived-in, trimmed with Mrs. Milton's hand-sewn quilts. Mountain laurel decorated each tabletop in the spring, filling the home with their intoxicating scent. And during the summer months, it wasn't uncommon to catch a whiff of apple crumb pie when passing by.

Now, the house is dark and empty. All the life sucked out of it.

As if on cue, the scratches across my wrist once again prick beneath my sleeve. I don't want to think about them anymore. Every time I do, my heart races and my hands go clammy. And that afternoon in Andrew's bedroom repeats over and over again inside my head.

"Are you coming?"

When I look up, Eliza's watching me with furrowed brows. I hadn't realized I'd stopped walking.

My eyes linger over the Milton's home as a nugget of unease simmers in my chest. Pressing my sleeve across my body, I follow Eliza into the store.