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Part I

THE GRAND CANYON

Chapter One

Scarlett Tho as I can remember That’s why I knehen she calledthe worst week ofeven before she said it Just by her voice on the other end of the line I knew

“It’s Michael,” she said quietly Her words crackled over distance “Michael Sherwood”

“What about him?” The camp director, a woman named Ruth with short hair and Birkenstocks, shifted impatiently beside me At Sisterhood Camp, ere supposed to be Isolated from the Pressures of Society in order to Iet phone calls Especially not atyou out of your creaky caht and a phone that weighed heavily in your hand

Scarlett sighed So was up “What about him?” I repeated The ca, I was sure, that this was no eency

“He’s dead” Scarlett’s voice was flat, even, as if she were recitingin the background

“Dead?” I said The camp director looked up, suddenly concerned, and I turned away “How?”

“A ot hit by a car on Shortcrest” More splashing, and suddenly I realized she ashing dishes Scarlett, always capable, would do house-work during a nuclear holocaust

“He’s dead,” I repeated, and the room seemed very small suddenly, cramped, and as the ca away I pictured Scarlett at the sink in cutoffs and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, phone cocked between her ear and shoulder “Oh, my God”

“I know, ” Scarlett said, and there was a great gurgling noise as water whooshed down her sink She wasn’t crying “I know”

We sat there on the line for what seeround the only sound I wanted to crawl through the phone right then, popping out on the other side in her kitchen, beside her Michael Sherwood, a boy we’d grown up with, a boy one of us had loved Gone

“Halley?” she said softly, suddenly

“Yeah?”