No way, I thought, but at the same time I found myself picking up the pace as Cora’s house came into view, breaking into a jog, then a run. It was cold out—the air was stinging my lungs, and I knew I had to look crazy, but I kept going, my breath ragged in my chest as I cut across the neighbor’s lawn, then alongside Cora’s garage to the side yard.

The bird was impossible to miss, standing in the shallow end, its wings slightly raised as if it had only just landed there. Distantly, I realized that it was beautiful, caught with the sun setting in the distance, its elegant form reflected in the pond’s surface. But then it dipped its massive beak down into the water.

“Stop!” I yelled, my voice carrying and carrying far. “Stop it!”

The bird jerked, its wings spreading out a little farther, so it looked like it was hovering. But it stayed where it was.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The bird stood there, wings outstretched, with me only a short distance away, my heart thumping in my ears. I could hear cars passing on the street, a door slamming somewhere a few yards over. But all around us, it was nothing but still.

At any moment, I knew the bird could reach down and pluck up a fish, maybe even my fish. For all I knew I was already too late to save anything.

“Get out!” I screamed, louder this time, as I moved closer. “Now! Get out now! ”

At first, it didn’t move. But then, almost imperceptibly at first, it began to lift up, then a little farther, and farther still. I was so close to it as it moved over me, its enormous wings spread out, pumping higher and higher into the night sky, so amazing and surreal, like something you could only imagine. And maybe I would have thought it was only a dream, if Jamie hadn’t seen it, too.

I didn’t even realize he was standing right behind me, his hands in his pockets, and his face upturned, until I turned to watch as the bird soared over us, still rising.

“It was a heron,” I told him, forgetting our silence. I was gasping, my breath uneven. “It was in the pond.”

He nodded. “I know.”

I swallowed, crossing my arms over my chest. My heart was still pounding, so hard I wondered if he could hear it. “I’m sorry for what I did,” I said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

For a moment, he was quiet. “Okay,” he said finally. Then he reached a hand up, resting it on my shoulder, and together, we watched the bird soar over the roofline into the sky.

Chapter Ten

“You want buttered, or not?”

“Either is fine,” I said.

Olivia eyed me over the counter, then walked over to the butter dispenser, sticking the bag of popcorn she was holding underneath it and giving it a couple of quick smacks with her hand. “Then you are officially my favorite kind of customer,” she said. “As well as unlike ninety-nine percent of the moviegoing population.”

“Really.”

“Most people,” she said, turning the bag and shaking it slightly, then adding a bit more, “have very strong views on their butter preference. Some want none—the popcorn must be dry, or they freak out. Others want it sopping to the point they can feel it through the bag.”

I made a face. “Yuck.”

She shrugged. “I don’t judge. Unless you’re one of those totally anal-retentive types that wants it in specific layers, which takes ages. Then I hate you.”

I smiled, taking the popcorn as she slid it across to me. “Thanks,” I said, reaching for my wallet. “What do I—?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving me off.

“You sure?”

“If you’d asked for butter layers, I would have charged you. But that was easy. Come on.”

She came out from behind the counter, and I followed her across the lobby of the Vista 10—which was mostly empty except for some kids playing video games by the rest-rooms—to the box office door. She pulled it open, ducking inside, then flipped the sign in the window to OPEN before clearing a bunch of papers from a nearby stool for me to sit down. “You sure? ” I said, glancing around. “Your boss won’t mind? ”

“My dad’s the manager,” she said. “Plus I’m working Saturday morning, the kiddie shift, against my will. The girl who was supposed to be here flaked out on him. I can do what I want.”

“The kiddie—?” I began, then stopped when I saw a woman approaching with about five elementary school- aged children, some running ahead in front, others dragging along behind. One kid had a handheld video game and wasn’t even looking where he was going, yet still managed to navigate the curb without tripping, which was kind of impressive. The woman, who appeared to be in her mid-forties and was wearing a long green sweater and carrying a huge purse, stopped in front of the window, squinting up.

“Mom,” one of the kids, a girl with ponytails, said, tugging on her arm. “I want Smarties.”

“No candy,” the woman murmured, still staring up at the movie listings.

“But you promised!” the girl said, her voice verging on a whine. One of the other kids, a younger boy, was now on her other side, tugging as well. I watched the woman reach out to him absently, brushing her hand over the top of his head as he latched himself around her leg.

“Yes!” the kid with the handheld yelled, jumping up and down. “I made level five with the cherries!”

Olivia shot me a look, then pushed down the button by her microphone, leaning into it. “Can I help you?” she asked.