“I guess not,” he said.

“How’s your mom?” she asked.

“She’s better. But she hides her sadness well.”

“What about you?”

“I really miss him, but I’m better than I was.” He glanced at her as he drove. “I asked how you are. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“I told you—”

“I’ve known you for a long time. There’s something wrong.”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“Why not? Your mother told you not to?”

“If she did, why would I talk about it?”

“I know. She told you never to set foot on our land again, and you never did. You take your promises to her too seriously.”

“What is this? Are you the new Reece?”

“My hair’s the wrong color.”

“I miss him,” she said.

“I know. He hardly ever stops by now that Huck’s gone.”

“At least you see him sometimes. And Huck is close enough to visit.”

“Yeah, but the house feels really weird with just my mom and me.” He added, “I guess you’re used to that.”

She was used to that. What would she do if Mama went to the spirit world? She looked out the window to hide her tears. When she thought he wouldn’t notice, she quickly wiped her hand over her face.

“Are you crying?”

“No.”

“Raven . . .”

“Could we just not talk for a while?”

That was how the rest of the drive was. Both of them quiet, her absorbing as much Jackie light as she could store up until the ride was over. She wondered if he still had the plastic stars on his bedroom ceiling.

He stopped the car in front of the gate, not hiding from the cameras.

“Do you want to ride with me again?” he asked. “It gets you home faster than the bus.”

She would arrive earlier to check on Mama. “I’d like to drive with you,” she said.

“Okay, good.” He looked out the front windshield in the direction of his house, about a mile down the country road. “I’d offer to take you to school in the morning, but I’d have no way to let you know when I’m not going to school. You’d miss the bus.”

He had already missed two days of school, and it was early in the semester. When he came back each time, he’d said he was sick.

“Sometimes I just can’t go,” he said.

Raven remembered the day she’d been too depressed to go to school.

“Because you’re too sad to go?” she asked.

He looked away from her. “Something like that. Over the summer, I had a few panic attacks. I see a psychologist sometimes.”

She’d heard other kids talk about panic attacks. “Is it bad when it happens?”

He nodded. “It took me a while before I could drive. Because my dad . . .”

“I can see how that would happen,” she said.

“I like having someone in the car. It helps.”

“I’ll ride with you anytime you want,” she said.

He looked anxious. “I asked you today because I wanted to talk to you. I didn’t ask just because of that.”

“I know.”

He looked out the window at her driveway. “Is your mom watching us? Is this okay?”

“It’s okay, but I’d better go.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waited until she was inside the gate before he drove away.

After that day, they rode home together three or four times a week. Sometimes he went out with friends instead, but he wasn’t interested in any particular girl as far as Raven could tell.

At first when they drove together, he’d ask if she wanted to stop for food at Bear’s or another drive-through. She always said no. Mama was getting sicker and acting stranger. Raven had to be at home as much as possible.

He knew something was wrong but stopped asking about it. They talked about their classes, or he would tell her something happening in the news or about a movie he liked. She would describe whatever book she was reading. Sometimes they said very little. She didn’t worry about being quiet with him anymore. In fact, she found their silences comforting. She sensed he felt that way, too.

The second day after Thanksgiving break from school, Raven found Mama on the floor when she woke up. Her eyes stared, but she was breathing. She had entered the spirit world.

Mama had lost a lot of weight, but Raven still had to use all her strength to raise her to her feet and support her until she got her into bed. She pulled the covers over her. “Mama . . . are you okay? Do you want me to make your tea?”

Mama stared as if she weren’t there. She had entered the spirit world many times since Raven was little, but this time Raven was afraid her body was too weak to come back. She decided she wouldn’t go to school.

She propped Mama up and held cooled tea to her lips. “Drink, Mama. This is your favorite. It has licorice in it.”

She was relieved when Mama sipped at the tea and gradually focused her eyes on her.

“Daughter . . . ,” she said.

“Yes, Mama?”

“The spirits won’t heal me. I don’t understand . . . I don’t understand . . .” Tears dripped from her pale eyes.