Blima ran out into the woods. For forty-three days, they’d been happy, all of them, her mother included, but now there was a little boy who could ruin everything. She didn’t know what to do. She needed help. She needed something. Or somebody.
She skidded down into the clearing, and there he was, Harpo sitting on the dock with his pants rolled up and his feet in the water, sitting still with a letter in his hands, just like the last time Blima saw him. Except this time, he’d come to the lodge with an extra suitcase and a little boy, the blue-eyed one from before. Also, he was holding a pen and a paper. Who could write a letter at a time like this?
Harpo shifted and Blima froze, and suddenly, they were playing a game of red light green light, and that would be the answer. If she won the ga
