“What’s up?” I said.“Nothing.”“I mean what’s wrong?”“My leg is broken.”“Yeah, I noticed.”

“(After Gerry fell overboard and they set sail)“Dad.” I held my teeth tight. “I guess you forgot. Planning this whole trip, I would have thought you’d remember, but I guess you didn’t.” I looked at Dad again. He was watching the sail. “Dad,” I said, “Gerry can’t swim. Remember?”

“I wished we had milk – milk for strong bones. Dylan said he would eat the fish bones if I would quit talking about milk.”

“So we cooked the flounder and ate every single bite. It was huge, and we were stuffed. It was worse than Thanksgiving. I mean it was better.”

“Gerry breathed loudly and slowly. “Dylan,” he said accusingly, “that was a sad story.”“Not it’s not. It’s a happy story. It’s about a mom who loved her baby very much.”“But she’s gone,” Gerry said in a very little voice.“That doesn’t mean she loves you any less,” Dylan said.”

“Ben,” Dad snarled. He was tired. “Life jacket and safety harness. Always. When you’re alone on deck at night, we’d never know if you fell off. You’d be left behind. We’d never find you.”“Doesn’t sound so bad,” I said.”

“I was letting myself come back to life and it wasn’t good.”