He focuses on the view of the city as we wind down the hill toward the beach.

“Paua Shell Bay?” he asks, shuffling through the mail—again.

“Just like we used to.”

More shuffling. “Fish and chips?”

“Are you hungry?”

His breath comes out heavier than the last ones. “You have no idea how hungry I am.”

I go a touch heavy on the brakes and we jerk forward, belts tightening. “Sorry.” His expression is

unreadable. Unreadable, but tired. “I’m hungry too.”

His gaze slips to my mouth but he quickly looks out the passenger window.

We park at the bay. We stuff the fish and chips under our parkas, zipped only halfway. We toe off

our shoes and leave them at the car.

Salty breezes whip our hair and seagulls squawk overhead, flying over the low tide for anything to

scavenge. Our feet sink into wet sand as we walk along the edges of the tide. Every few steps, the cool

ocean bites our ankles. Jace is staring toward the horizon and the dark clouds drifting toward us.

The promise of rain is in the air but neither of us hurry. So what if we get wet? We’re not made of

sugar, Lila would say.

My fingers are greasy from the chips but the salt is delicious and I lick it off my thumb and

forefinger.

I’ve finished my scoop but I could eat another. “Jace?”

He turns toward me, weary, as if he’s not ready to talk yet.

I step closer, locking our gazes and feeling the warmth tingle between us. I dunk my hand down his

jacket into his scoop of chips and pinch a handful.

“Hey!” he says with a relieved chuckle. “You had yours.”

“Yeah, but I’m really hungry.”

He sucks in a gulp of air just as a few drops of rain hit my nose and cheek. “Cooper—”

A loud squawk.

A seagull swoops down and boldly perches on Jace’s forearm, ducking his head into the chips. Jace

stands there, shocked, staring at me as if begging me to get rid of it.

I laugh so hard that my vision blurs, and my attempts to shoo the bird are shoddy at best. The

rumbling thunder finally sends the seagull on his way and turns the smattering of raindrops into a

torrent.

Rain drenches our hair and slips down our necks and under our shirts. It soaks through our clothes

but we just stand here and let it.

I can’t stop laughing, pointing at him, the bird, his face. “The seagull’s hungry too!”

Water splashes into my open mouth and it tastes fresh, revitalizing. Just like the smile quirking at

Jace’s lips.

lodestone

My spiral-bound master’s dissertation stares at me from the passenger seat of my car, the plastic

cover winking at me in the autumn afternoon light.

“I’ll read it,” Dad said. “So long as you dedicate it to me.”

I undo my belt and open the door. Breezes ruffle the pages, flicking them open to the title page. I

pull it onto my lap, and fold it back one more page. It’s not dedicated to Dad but I think he’ll be more

pleased this way.

My dissertation is not a rock. It will not last forever, protecting her name and memory, but it is one

of the stepping stones of my life, and I want her to know . . . want her to know . . .

I clutch the work to my chest and jump out of the car.

The distant sounds of laughter startle me, and I follow them over the moat to the back yard.

Dad has a soccer ball aimed at Ernie, who raises his hands to protect his face. “I haven’t done

anything to your daughter!” he screams. “I swear she’s still a virgin. Now stop trying to kill me with the

round, padded object. I don’t deserve to be taken this way.”

Dad laughs. “Open your eyes, doofus. I’m kicking it to you, not at you.”

Ernie reluctantly pulls his hands from his face and stares suspiciously at Dad.

I hover in the shadows at the edge of the house.

It’s been a long time since Dad has laughed. I miss it. Miss the way he jerks his head back slightly

and squishes his nose, lines deepening around his eyes. Like Ernie, he’s wearing training pants and a

long-sleeved shirt. Unlike Ernie’s, Dad’s shirt is rated PG.

Dad finally kicks the ball. Ernie steps out of the way instead of stopping it with his foot and it rolls

to the house.

“I got it,” Ernie says, jogging over to pick it up.

“It’s a lost cause, Dad.” I follow Annie’s voice to the other side of the lawn, where she’s spraying

the garden.

“I heard that,” Ernie says, positioning the ball at his feet and taking a few steps backward. “All

right, David, here’s a taste of your own medicine.”

He puts energy into his kicks and swings his arms like a pro, except his foot catches the ball at the

wrong angle. The ball smacks Annie in the back of the head.

A horrified gasp. Ernie races over to Annie, who has dropped her hose and is glaring. “Okay, kill

me now with the round, padded object,” Ernie says.

Dad drops to the grass. His laugh bellows out of him so hard, he’s holding his ribs. “You okay,

Annie?” he manages between bouts.

Annie is okay, just a little miffed—and confused which of the two idiots to scowl at. Soon,

however, even her narrowed eyes are twinkling and she’s chuckling along with them.

Ernie hugs her tightly, rubbing her back, working his fingers up to the nape of her neck. “Sorry,” he

says and kisses her. “For me, soccer is a spectator sport.”

She grins and looks over at Dad, who’s consumed with hysteria and sprawled out on the grass. She

frowns and bites her lip.

I push away from the side of the house and walk over to him. His laugh is still pulling at his body

but the sounds have broken and are silent. He stares past me at the sunset streaking the sky orange, red,

and pink.

I lie next to him, hugging my dissertation. Annie and Ernie join us until we are one big compass.

Dad, north. Me, east. Annie, south. Ernie, west. Breezes stir, and it’s like we are lying on lodestones, a

natural magnetic iron ore that makes the needle spin wildly, jerking back and forth, and none of us know

which direction it will land.

When Dad sniffs, I shuffle closer. We’ll figure out where to go from here. I know we will be okay.

“She loves Tui, remember?”

His sob returns to a laugh. “She loves you, eh?”

We lie like this until I glance toward the house and catch Jace leaning with his elbows on the side

of the balcony, looking down at us. He’s too far away for me to guess what he’s thinking.

He’s too far away. He should be here too.

Still holding my dissertation, I sit up slowly. The back of my shirt is damp from the cool grass.

“How about I race out with Annie and grab us some take out?” Ernie says.

Dad starts to protest that Lila won’t be able to join in—but then he nods. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

He spots what I’m holding and points. “What’s this?”

I pass it to him. “My dissertation.”

He flips through the hundred and fifty pages, and then shakes his head. “You get your brains from

your mum. This looks impressive.” He flips to the dedication page. He swallows then claps the

dissertation shut and hands it back to me, cupping the back of my neck and leading me inside the house.

“I’m proud of you, Cooper.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I’m going to run up and show Lila.”

“Do that.”

No music greets me when I run upstairs, and a quick peek at the balcony reveals Jace has left. I

want to find him first to show him my work; I want to be near him for a few moments but he’s not in his

room, either, so I head to Lila’s.

I stop right outside Lila’s door when I hear Jace speaking in her room.

“I mean, I don’t know—” I sneak a look through the open door. Pillows prop Lila up and she’s

rubbing the bluestone necklace as if it were rosary beads.