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Chapter 27

“Let’s go back to the cabin. I hate this place.” I looked around the clearing, and I suddenly realized there was nothing here to memorialize Glen—just two thirty-three-year-olds bemoaning the mistakes of their childhoods. “I don’t care which one of us gets this land. Whichever one it is should put up a statue or a sign or something to tell people Glen’s story, so he’s not forgotten. It’s only right.”

Tommy nodded.

“See?” he said. “I knew you’d know how to make things right.”

“No, it won’t make things right, but it’ll help take the curse off the pond.”

We rode back in silence, almost as if we were leaving a funeral. 12

Tommy

Fuck, fuck, fuck. And damn. I did it again! Instead of talking rationally to Vlad, I broke down and cried like a baby.