Cooper set his book aside and immediately stood. “Mrs. Turner, if you are offering food, I will eat it. It’s the least I can do.”

She beamed at him.

I joined Cooper and we followed my mom down the hall. “I can see why you wanted to switch books, by the way. Crime and Punishment is disturbing.”

“I know. I sensed nightmares. I’m not as tough as you,” he said.

“Didn’t you just call me a wimp the other day?”

“A wimp about some things. Not others.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

He chuckled. “No problem.”

Mom had made chicken and rice, and four plates sat on the table, where my grandpa waited.

“Cooper,” Grandpa said. “Again.”

Cooper smiled. “You sick of me, Grandpa Dave?”

“Always,” Grandpa said.

Mom swatted the air near Grandpa. “He’s kidding.”

“He’s not,” I whispered at the same time my grandpa mouthed, I’m not.

Cooper let out a single laugh. “It’s kind of creepy how you two are the same person,” he said, looking between Grandpa and me.

“Except he’s a hundred years older.”

“How’s the list coming?” Mom asked, loading up a plate and handing it to me.

“Cooper made me ride on a quad in the dunes. I’m not sure how much depth that gave me, but it was an experience.”

I was about to talk about how terrifying it was but pressed my lips together. Mom had stopped scooping rice midscoop, frozen.

I changed my tone. “It was fun. Cooper is a professional, so it wasn’t really scary at all.”

Cooper laughed, taking the plate full of food in front of me and sliding it in front of him. “Right. You should’ve seen her.”

I grabbed hold of his knee under the table and dug my fingers around it.

He shot me a look but then noticed my mom. “She did great,” he said with hardly a pause. “We took it slow.”

Grandpa sighed as if he knew what we were doing.

Finally my mom snapped out of her daze. “That’s great, hon. That’s definitely a new experience. Next time, will you run risky activities by me first?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“I kind of sprang it on her. She wasn’t sure what we were doing. Sorry, Mrs. Turner.”

Mom smiled at Cooper. “It’s okay. I know you’re careful.”

If she had seen how careful he was, she would never trust him with me again.

Grandpa retrieved the plate my mom was extending and then said, “Didn’t you promise Abby a walk to the park after dinner today, Susan?” This was his way to push my mom, because I certainly hadn’t, with our downplayed ride. I shot him a look but then smiled at Mom. Because it was true. She had promised. “We can all go,” Grandpa said.

Mom’s lips formed a tight line. She finished filling the last plate, then sat down. “Yes, I did promise. That sounds good.”

I wasn’t sure what it was about having Cooper with us that made my mom more relaxed. Maybe it was his general happy nature, or maybe she sensed that he feared nothing, so she didn’t need to either. Whatever it was, when he was there, our success rate at getting my mom out the door was almost as high as when my dad was around.

Grandpa and I walked arm in arm, trailing Mom and Cooper. Cooper was doing most of the talking, like I generally did when I walked with my mom. But she was looking up more, laughing more, not hesitating as much. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but I’d ask him later so I could pick up a few pointers.

“How was your quad ride really?” Grandpa asked me.

“Terrifying,” I said. “Too fast.”

“That’s what I thought.” He patted my arm. “And did it give you newfound depth?”

“It actually gave me an idea for one of my paintings.”

“That’s great. So does that mean you’re going to be racing on the dunes alongside Cooper next week?”

“Not on your life.”

“How are you going to retaliate?”

“You mean what fear am I going to make him face?”

“Yes.”

“No idea.”

We arrived at the park, and my mom sat on a bench. I chose a swing close by, Cooper taking the one right next to me. Grandpa stood behind me and gave me a push.

“You’re surprisingly strong for your age,” I said.

“I’m strong for any age.”

I pushed myself higher with a pump of my legs.

“Which classics did you end up picking?” Grandpa asked.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” I yelled out from the top of my swing.

“A Tale of Two Cities,” Grandpa said. “Good choice. About two vastly different realities existing at the same time. And what about you?” Grandpa turned to Cooper, who was twisting in his swing, the chain getting tighter and tighter.

“Crime and Punishment.”

“Ah. About a man getting away with murder . . . or does he? Our internal judge can be the worst punishment of all.”

“Don’t tell us the end, Grandpa!”

He laughed. “I haven’t.”

I glanced over at Mom as my swing slowed to a stop. She was intently taking in our surroundings. “What’s next on the list?” she asked when she noticed me looking.

Cooper lifted his feet and began spinning violent circles as the chain unraveled.

“Dizzy,” he said when he planted his feet again.

“What’s next on our list, Cooper?” I asked.

He groaned. “We’re trying out for a musical tomorrow.”

Grandpa raised his eyebrows and said, “Really?” as if he thought it was a horrible idea.

I grunted. “It’s a new experience!”

A buzzing noise sounded from Cooper’s pocket and he pulled out his phone. A smile played on his lips.

When he looked up I nodded at his phone, asking him who it was.

He just shook his head and started spinning the swing again.

As we headed back to the house, my mom arm in arm with Grandpa this time, I leaned over to Cooper and whispered, “Who were you texting with?”

“Remember that girl I met at the outdoor movie a couple of weeks ago?”

“I?”

He smiled. “No. Ris.”

“Oh, right. Ris. Yes, I remember her.” I had hoped he hadn’t. That she was quickly forgotten. Apparently not.

“It was just her. We’ve texted a few times.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“I think you’d like her.”

I was sure I wouldn’t. “Yeah. Bring her to one of our outings sometime and I’ll see.”

“I will.”

When we got to my house, he went straight to his car.

“Your book is inside,” I said.

“I’ll get it tomorrow.”

He drove away and I watched him go, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest.

ELEVEN

That night I pulled out a painting I had done over a year ago. It was Cooper on a quad, flying over the sand dunes. It was good, realistic, but that was it. I studied the painting, remembered the fear that had coursed through me when I was in the same position, and set out to alter what I’d created. I tried to mask its portrait feel and make it more dramatic. More shadows, more sand flying, more expression. I didn’t refer to a real picture while working out the details on his face. I didn’t care so much if it was true to life. Just that it was real.