Before long, spring leapt into summer, liberating the boys from school. After months of daily flagellation, skateboarding grew kinder to Will. Though the pavement still regularly hurtled upward for reasons he couldn’t decode, he was inching toward stability. He could roll without tenseness in his legs, without winging his arms in big hysteric circles.

In the convection of July, a heat that reminded Will of the Destructivity Experiment where he pointed a blowdryer at his face for as long as he could stand, Will and Jonah patrolled the neighborhood, half-searching for Marcus, half not wanting to go home. They memorized every street, parking lot, staircase, curb, storm drain, fire hydrant, and sidewalk square in Grandview Gardens and County Park. They scoured the backyards along the creek for empty swimming pools, like in Thrasher, but those they found were squared with no transition, just abrupt walls lining a deep pit. It was another example of California’s overwhelming superiority—they had the sense to properly construct a swimming pool.

At first Will was distraught when the pumpkin-head design on his board became scratched. He’d seen advertisements for plastic guards that protected the precious graphics and was preparing to order them when Jonah told him, “You don’t need any of that stuff.”

“But I’ll lose the picture,” said Will.

“That’s what it’s for.”

“For what?”

“Getting ruined.”

Nightly, Will drew himself hot baths in Venice to ease his tenderized muscles. By now his skin, especially at the apexes, was crammed with scabs, welts, rainbows of bruises, and the cursive of scars, like collages made from the pages of Jonah’s medical textbooks. Beneath these floated tiny chips of bone that prickled in his flesh.

There’d been other changes too. Maybe it was the effect of the sultry Outside air, but Will’s voice had burst like an engine run without oil, leaving a warbling parody of a young deliveryman. He’d also begun to notice certain emerging roundnesses evidenced by girls his age, especially Angela, his memory of her anyway, who, he realized with shock, he missed terribly.

There in the steam of his bath, to keep from tumbling into black, gut-churning thoughts of the Butler’s wolves with their snouts buried in his Helmet, memorizing its vinegary scent, or the Butler finding the name Cardiel markered in it and then dropping by for a visit, Will reread the Thrasher magazines that Jonah had loaned him. He especially liked the interviews with skateboarders, who were always irreverent and brave and strange and always reminded him of Marcus.

Now the door in Venice came open. “Just a sec,” Will hissed, hurriedly reaching for the bubble bath, squeezing a long ribbon into the water. “Sorry,” he heard her say, shutting the door again, as he swished the water frantically, kicking up a thick flotilla of bubbles that stung his scrapes. “Okay, you can come in,” he said, sinking to his chin to hide his abrasions under the foam. He could only imagine how she’d inspect him like a piece of fruit, her tongue clucking at the roof of her mouth.

“I’m always going to knock from now on,” she said entering meekly. “You’re older now. You deserve privacy.”

“Sure,” Will said, with no idea what she was talking about.

She sat at the edge of the bath. “Jonah go home?”

Will nodded, blowing bubbles from his bottom lip.

“He can stay over anytime he wants, you know, I won’t mind. I don’t love the thought of him going through that culvert at night. We could set up another cot.”

“Jonah can’t sleep if he’s not at home,” Will said. “He doesn’t feel safe.”

“Well, we’ve got that in common,” she said, laughing with her eyes shut. “I really like him,” she added. “He livens this place up. It’s so good you two are friends. It wasn’t always like that in Thunder Bay, Will. Your uncle and I didn’t have Native friends. It just wasn’t something people did. Actually, with those skateboards of yours, in a way you boys both remind me of your uncle.”

Will fought the urge to sit up. “What was he like?”

“He was smart. And funny. And daring,” she said. “And angry.” She gave a quick smile.

“What was he angry about?”

“Oh,” she said, scooping some bubbles in her palm, “I suppose he was mad about losing our parents, and at the way things were here. And he didn’t know where to put it. He could’ve done so much, gone to university somewhere or created things. He was brilliant, like you. But when our dad died, he had to stay to take care of us. At that time people in Thunder Bay didn’t have options the way people in other places did.”

“They still don’t, Mom.”

She shook her head as though to clear it. “But you’re happy out there, aren’t you?”

Will nodded. “The world is really big,” he said. “It’s hard to believe. It just keeps going and going.”

“I remember that,” she said.

“Mom, I heard that people die in their houses way more than anywhere else,” he said, “making this, like, the most dangerous place in the world. At least for us.”

She put her wrist over her eyes. He could see her body tense like a bow drawn with an arrow. “That’s because people are in their houses more often than other places,” she said. “It’s just statistics, Will.”

“But it still means you’re safer if you go out and do stuff,” he said. “That’s the truth. That’s not just statistics. Everybody Outside knows it.”

They sat for a while in silence, and she seemed to let it go.

“Mom, is it because of Dad? Or is it because of Charlie?”

“What, Will?”

“The … Black Lagoon?”

Her eyes were open and searching.

“The reason you can’t go Outside,” he added.

“Is that what you call it?”

“Sometimes.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “In some way, I guess. I do miss them both. For different reasons. But it also comes from … me.”

“Then you can stop it. If it’s from Inside you.”

“It’s not that easy, honey.”

“Being brave is never easy. That’s why it’s good for you.”

She cocked her head and sighed but didn’t say anything.

“What if we built you a shack in the backyard and brought all your stuff out there, like your bed and your books and guitar? Wouldn’t it be basically the same?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“But if we painted it exactly like your room and got—”

“Look,” she said, her voice cutting, “sometimes I’m scared to breathe, Will. The more I fight it, the worse it gets. But I’ve been doing better lately. This Relaxation business really helps.”

“Why be scared of breathing, Mom? Breathing never killed anyone. It keeps you alive. You just think about it too much.”

“I’ve tried to stop thinking about it. Believe me.”

“You need something to do. Like solve a puzzle or something. Find a mystery. Get a hobby. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Honey, I don’t think crossword puzzles are going to fix this.”

“But what are you actually afraid of? Dying? Kids at my school have scraps all the time, and they’re fine. It’s actually pretty hard to die, Mom.”

She snapped her elastic. “Oh, please don’t say that word,” she said. “You’ve come close before, believe me. You just can’t remember.”

“I got amnesia?” Will said, excited at the potential territory of himself previously unmapped.

“No, you were young. When we were in Toronto, the sub …”—she seemed to weaken for a moment—“you nearly fell—actually, you did slip … on a pool deck, and cracked your head.” Her elastic thwacked twice. “You bled like a faucet. They had to clear the pool because it went pale-pink.”

“You took me to a pool?”

“You were young,” she said in a long quivery breath. “Oh, Will,” she said, shutting her eyes. “What I’m most afraid of is breaking apart and losing everything.”

“Aren’t you already broken apart?”

“Not completely.”

“Well, maybe you just need to get it over with,” he said, “like I do in skateboarding. If I’m scared to try a trick, I need to fall once really bad, and then I’m not scared anymore.”