She remembered how they’d gotten the robin to eat the first few times. They had to coax the nestling to open its beak by gently pressing on the hinge at the side of the beak.

She pressed the stick with the cricket on the baby’s beak. It wouldn’t open. The cricket kept falling off the stick. She tried again and again. “I’m not giving up, baby,” she said. “You have to eat.”

The bird didn’t understand her words. She tried the kissing sound Mama made to make baby birds open their beaks. But the baby was still too scared to eat.

When the bird at last opened her beak wide enough, she pushed the cricket a little way down her throat. The bird swallowed it. Raven smiled. She thought the baby looked surprised that she had been fed by a scary girl. She tucked the pouch nest back into her shirt and went in search of more insects.

She wandered over the land she’d been walking with Mama since before she could remember. The house Mama had built when Raven was a baby sat on ninety acres of woods and fields. There were forested hills they could climb, meadows, and a stream with salmon.

By the time Raven neared the stream, the jay had eaten five or six times. She wasn’t yet begging with a wide-open beak, but she didn’t fight the food as much. Raven used the kissing sound to tell her food was coming each time she fed her. Soon the baby would know this was the language of her new mama.

Laughter and voices drew Raven’s attention away from her search for insects. She crept through the thick shrubs and ferns until she could see who was there. It was three boys, two older, one younger. They were walking in the stream, all wearing shorts and gym shoes. The older boy with pale skin and orangey hair had his shirt off.

“When did this happen?” the shirtless boy asked.

“He came to his first practice two days ago,” the other older boy said.

“No way. Chris is a basketball and football guy.”

“And really good at baseball. I finally talked him into it.”

“What position will he play?”

“Probably third base. He’s got a good arm.”

“And he’s awesome at batting,” the younger boy said. “He hit two home runs during practice.”

“Our best pitcher was scared to pitch to him,” the dark-haired boy said.

The orange-haired boy broke into laughter.

Raven didn’t understand anything they were saying. But she wished she did.

The boys had reached the deep pool in the stream. The two wearing T-shirts took them off and tossed them onto the bank.

They all went under the water and came up flinging their wet hair.

“Hoo, that feels good!” one of the older boys shouted.

“Good thing the werewolf died,” the other older boy said.

“But may God rest his badass soul.”

“We don’t know for sure that the werewolf’s dead,” the younger boy said.

“Are you afraid?” said the orange-haired boy.

“No. I’m just saying we don’t know for sure.”

“You’re scared!”

“Shut up.”

The young boy didn’t know the other boy had slipped under the water to grab his legs. He screamed because he hadn’t been ready for it. The boy standing above the water laughed and shouted, “Werewolf’s got you, Jackie!”

Jackie was pulled under the water, struggling with the older boy.

Raven didn’t understand what was happening. She left her hiding place to help the young boy, but she didn’t know how.

The two boys beneath the water popped to the surface, the older one laughing, the young one shouting, “Jerk!” He splashed the big boy. All three started splashing each other and laughing. The big boy didn’t mean to hurt the smaller one, Raven realized.

The young boy called Jackie noticed Raven standing on the shore. He stared at her with wide eyes. Within a few seconds, the two older boys saw her. No one spoke for a long time.

“Hey,” the older boy with tan skin and dark hair said to her.

She didn’t know what a boy saying “hey” to her meant.

He waded toward her. “Sorry we’re in your creek.”

“Yeah, sorry,” the orange-haired boy said. “We’ll go.”

Raven didn’t want them to go. But the two older boys pulled on their shirts, staring nervously at her. The tall boy with orange hair had pretty blue eyes.

Jackie waded to the creek edge and put on his shirt. He was looking at her the same way the older boys were. She had to say something or they would leave.

“It’s not my creek,” she said.

“Oh,” the dark-haired older boy said. “You aren’t the girl who lives with the rich divorced lady?”

Was he talking about Mama? Raven didn’t know what divorced meant. But she knew rich meant a lot of money, and she supposed Mama did have a lot. She’d figured that out the last time her aunt visited.

“I live here,” Raven said, “but I don’t own it. This creek owns itself.”

The older boys grinned. “So, like, no one can own the earth and all that?” the orange-haired one asked.

She nodded.

“Her mom needs to meet your mom,” the orange-haired boy said.

“Yeah,” the other older boy said.

After another silence, he said, “We’d better get going.”