After school, Martha and Adeline cross the street as usual, but instead of turning left and walking through the graveyard toward home, they turn right and follow a group of eighth-grade girls heading down the sidewalk. At the end of the street, there is a gas station with a little convenience store. The older girls have rolled up their skirts to make the hemlines shorter, showing off their long legs. They are talking loudly, laughing and swearing, and two of them are surreptitiously taking tiny drags off a lit cigarette, passing it back and forth. Martha is shocked. It’s a small town, and you never know who might see you.

The older girls don’t seem to notice that they are being followed into the store and then back out again. The cigarette disappeared somehow on the way in. The eighth-graders are carrying cans of soda pop and little bags of potato chips, but Martha and Adeline haven’t purchased anything. Adeline has a quarter from the tooth fairy, but that is at home in an old jam jar, and it wouldn’t be enough for anything more than a gumball from the machine at the mall.

Loudly, the older girls scatter in all different directions. Mother is waiting at home with the baby, and Martha knows that they need to get back. The apartment was always supposed to be temporary, but they haven’t left yet.

Martha heads wearily back toward the graveyard, shadowed by her younger sister. It is the tail end of winter. At last, they’re moving into spring. There is a fertile, earthy scent in the air. Buds are on the trees. Already, clouds of mosquitos are buzzing around the headstones.

Before they have even reached the pond, Martha and Adeline can hear the 100-year-old koi calling to them. The sound is akin to whispering, to rustling. It’s difficult to understand his words. After a long winter, the sun seems too bright. Impulsively, Adeline plunges her hand into the water, trying to reach him.

When they get to the apartment, they let themselves in with Martha’s key. The curtains are closed, and all the lights are off. Their mother hears them and walks out of the back bedroom. The baby is in her arms, babbling and patting clumsily at her shoulder, her hair.

The girls walk down the hall toward her. Their clothes look clean but a bit shabby.

Everything is moving so slowly, as in a dream.

Yes, she thinks. (They all think.)

Maybe this time, things will work out right.