The event seemed to get bigger every year. It was one of the Booster Club’s most popular summer fundraisers. Her parents chaired the event, a full-on night of Hawaiian music, tiki torches, hula dances, and traditional food. There was even a pig roast, which was gross, but people loved it. For the past twenty-four hours, guys had been tending the meat as it roasted in the ground. At the appointed hour, the feasting would begin at the beachfront park.

He held the garment out in front of him. “You made this?”

“Every stitch. And one for Duffy, too.” She handed him the matching tiny shirt. “Wendell has one, too. Once I got started, I couldn’t stop. The fabric’s called modern barkcloth.”

He looked clueless. Most people, especially most boys, didn’t really care about fabric types.

“Okay, then,” he said. “Well, thanks.”

“No problem. Anyway,” she said, “you don’t have to wear it. Totally up to you.”

He wore the shirt. Caroline couldn’t believe he wore the shirt. He showed up at the luau with his grandparents, and he wore the shirt unbuttoned and floating open, over a Go Navy T-shirt and dark blue board shorts.

Tiki torches lined the walkway to the food pavilion, and hula music filled the air. Will joined a few of the older kids who worked at Scoops, and eventually made his way to the long tables skirted with fake grass. All the Shelbys pitched in, serving up fruity drinks, appetizers that her brothers proudly told everyone were called pu pu platters, and platters of grilled fish and veggies.

Most of the kids hadn’t bothered to dress Hawaiian, but nearly all the adult guys wore aloha shirts and the women wore muumuus and sported flowers in their hair. Caroline had gone full native, as her sisters put it, wearing a lei of orchids around her neck and a string of kukui nuts around one ankle, and even coloring her hair jet black with temporary color. Ever since she was little, she’d loved any occasion to dress up like something other than who she was.

Other people noticed Will, too—namely, Rona Stevens. She wore a grass skirt and coconut bra and a crown of silk flowers. Even to Caroline, she looked amazing. She and her friends from the cheering squad were doing some approximation of hula dancing and were laughing at their efforts. Moving her hips from side to side in comical fashion, Rona sidled over to Will.

“Hey, surfer boy,” she said. “You look cool in that shirt.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” he asked her.

“Of course not.” She planted herself in front of him, arms akimbo. “Do I look like I’m being sarcastic?”

“Guess not. Caroline made it.” He spotted her and waved her over.

“No way. That’s incredible.” Rona reached out and gently touched the collar, her hand lingering there. “Good job, Caroline.”

A big kid pushed into their midst. It was Rona’s boyfriend, Hakon, who inserted himself between them and nudged Will on the shoulder.

“Jeez, Hakon,” Rona exclaimed, stepping back. “What the hell?”

Caroline stopped breathing. Hakon was a big deal on the high school football team, and he had a reputation as a hothead.

“Nothing,” said Hakon, keeping his eyes on Will. “Just wondering what’s up with the kid in the pansy-ass shirt.”

Will didn’t flinch as he gazed calmly at the bigger boy. “It’s a shirt, is all.”

“Makes you look like a pansy.”

“Gimme a break.” Will tried to brush past him.

Hakon stood in his path, planting himself like an old-growth tree—wide and immovable. “Not so fast, pretty boy.”

Will laughed—a genuine laugh. “You’re kidding, right? ‘Pretty boy’?”

“I’ll mess you up, pretty boy,” Hakon said.

“Come on,” Rona said, taking hold of his arm. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

Hakon shook her off, the sudden movement both startling and disturbing.

Will dropped the good-humored facade. “Hey, I don’t know you, man. I don’t know why you’re ticked off at me. Whatever it is, get over it. I’m going to walk away now.”

Good for you, Caroline thought. He’d once told her the best defense is to not get in a fight at all.

Hakon didn’t seem to get it, though. “Yeah? Gonna run to your mama?” Hakon feinted to one side, nudging Will’s shoulder.

Caroline took in her breath with a gasp. Rona receded back into her group of friends, all her flirty confidence dissolving.

Will quickly stepped away. When Hakon followed him again, he said what was probably the one thing that would make Will forget his no-fighting rule. “Yeah, go run to your mama. She’s probably giving hand jobs out behind the tav—”

Will struck like a bolt of lightning, so quick that Caroline nearly missed it. Hakon was suddenly flat on his back and Will was above him, forearm pressed against the bigger boy’s neck. Hakon’s face was bright red, and his eyes bulged with panic.

More kids came running, forming a small crowd. Caroline was close enough to hear Will say, “I’m going to walk away now. Don’t be stupid.” And with that, he got up and turned away, walking toward the banquet tables without looking back.

Hakon scrambled up, his face still the color of a tomato, his chest heaving. He made a move to follow, but then checked himself.

“Come on,” Rona said. “Let it go.”

He waved her away with a violent motion of his arm. At the same moment, he pivoted and walked in the opposite direction from Will.

For the third time, Caroline had to remind herself to breathe.

Mom woke Caroline and Virginia early one morning in late August. She almost never did this, because Virginia had been working dinner service and was allowed to sleep in. So when Mom came into their room and whispered their names, Caroline knew something was up.

The morning light through the dormer window made Mom look haggard and distressed. Georgia slipped in behind her and got into bed with Caroline.

“What’s wrong?” Virginia asked, her voice raspy with dread.

“It’s Wendell,” said Mom. “He left us last night. Died in his sleep.”

No.

Wendell.

Caroline felt as if everything inside her emptied out completely, an invisible pool of shock at her feet. And then, with the next breath she took in, she filled up with the worst hurt she’d ever felt. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she stretched her nightgown over them and hugged herself tight.

Wendell. Poor old Wendell. Her good, good boy Wendell. That dog had been part of her life every single day she’d been in the world, because her parents had rescued the little guy as a puppy a month before she was born.

And now he was gone. Forever. She’d never again hear his funny bark or feel his scruffy warm fur. She’d never feed him salmonberries from her hand or whisper her troubles into his little floppy ear.

Elsewhere in the house, she could hear her brothers wailing. Apparently Dad was breaking the news to them.

“What happened?” Virginia asked between hiccupping sobs. “Did he get sick?”

Georgia buried her face in her arms.

“He was following me around the yard yesterday,” Caroline whispered, her throat on fire with grief. “He bothered the chickens, same as he always does.”