I find Ethan on the front walkway. He shifts awkwardly and then smiles. He almost looks like he is in pain. "Hello," he says.

"Hello." I look at him and wait, wondering what I am supposed to do.

"Oh!" He reaches into his jeans pocket and his strained smile vanishes. "I found these keys in my truck. I thought they might be yours?" He holds out a ring with two card keys dangling from it.

"No. Not mine."

"Oh." He doesn't move.

"Maybe they're Allys's," I offer.

"Maybe."

He shoves the keys back into his pocket, and the painful smile returns. "I'll see you on Monday, then?"

"Your smile is so fake," I say. "You need more practice."

His brows come together, and he snorts like he is offended. "And of course you're the expert on smiles. Anything you don't know?"

"Not much." I smile. Large and sustained.

He shakes his head and looks sideways at me. "You win. I can't beat that."

I ask him if he'd like a tour, and he says yes, he has nothing better to do. Nothing better? Yes, definitely Mr. Personality. He seems interested in the new walkway the workers have laid and also in the dismantling and rebuilding of our chimney. When we walk around to the back, I see that Lily has returned to her greenhouse. I feel the key in my pocket. I could ask him to leave. This might be my only chance to be alone in the house for a long while. But I don't want him to leave either. The key or Ethan. I choose Ethan for now.

We walk to the edge of the pond and he admires it. "Not too many people have a pond in their backyard."

I hadn't thought about it. We surely didn't have a pond in Boston. Ethan and I sit down opposite each other on a flat granite rock near the edge, and I appreciate the pond's beauty for the first time, seeing it through Ethan's eyes. Clusters of reeds shoot up like spiked anchors around the perimeter. On Mr. Bender's side, some coot hens swim in and out of view between-the cattails. "I hear frogs at night," I tell him. "Even in February. Lily thinks it's strange."

"Not so strange for here," he says.

"Are you from here?"

He hesitates, looks at me like I have just asked him to give me a pint of blood rather than asked him a simple question. His answer is just as odd.

"Yeah."

It is not the word, but the way it is said. Drawn out with a slight nod and a sigh. I recognize it. From somewhere. Maybe I saw it on Jenna's face or heard it in her voice on one of the video discs. A simple word that said more than was intended. Resignation. Enough. Stop. What do you want from me? Yeah. Things I think Mother never wanted me to see on those discs. Things that I think even the old Jenna never saw.

"Here is a problem for you," I say.

"That's why I go to the charter," he answers. "A lot of people around here know me. It's easier there."

"Because you can hide?"

"You put things together fast."

"No. Not really. You said everyone has a reason for being at the charter. I was just waiting to hear yours."

He leans forward, his arms resting on his knees. "I spent a year in the state juvenile facility. I beat someone up. When I got out I couldn't go back to the academy, so I went to the charter."

"You don't look the type," I say.

"The type who would beat someone up until he's more dead than alive?" He looks past me, his eyes unfocused. I can hear the knot in his throat pulling tight. "You just never know."

I lean forward, my arms on my knees so our positions are mirror images of each other. You never know. Ethan knows more about himself than he ever wanted to know, and I know less than I should. It seems wrong that his dark past should elevate my own blank one. His eyes are dark, full, as full as Dane's are empty. I come forward so I am on my knees. So close to his face I should be embarrassed, but I'm not.

"Aren't you going to ask why?" he says.

I close the space between us. My lips on his, wondering if the old Jenna knew how to kiss and if the new one remembers, but judging by the way his lips feel against mine, the answer to both of my questions is yes. I finally pull back.

"Sorry," I say. "I should have asked."

He pulls my face back to his and kisses me again, both of his hands soft against my cheeks.

Our kisses grow heated, and everything that is curious and odd and funny and wrong about me disappears and I am no longer thinking about me, but everything about Ethan, because the warmth of Ethan, the scent of Ethan, the touch of Ethan, is all about who I am now, and only when he pushes me away because Lily is yelling in the distance for me to come back to the house do I want to answer his question.

"I already know why. Because sometimes there is just no choice."

Choice

I needed it like I needed air.

But no one could hear me.

No one could listen.

No words. No sound.

No voice.

I couldn't even dream myself away.

Choices were made.

None of them mine.

At first I wondered if it was hell.

And then I knew it was.

Message

I slam the kitchen drawer.

"It's not necessary to slam it. I already got the message that you're angry."

I pull the drawer out and slam it again. I do it four more times. "No! Now I think you got the message!"

"It is time for your nutrients."