“And when I showed up yesterday, Jam told me she met a guy on Sunday night and decided to go to Miami with him for a few days.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. Jam said to expect that sort of thing from her. That’s sort of—well, that’s one reason I decided not to hang at the Summerlins for a day or two. I’ve been there too much anyway. But I don’t have a boyfriend to fill my time like you and Kris.”

  “I can’t be with An all the time. Unless I want to help him clean up dog vomit.”

  “So what can we do? I know we aren’t going to see anything of Kris this morning. Her mom roped her into something at their country club.”

  “Golf,” said Ronnie.

  “Really? Golf?”

  “You knew she pyed sometimes. Or used to.”

  “It’s probably just an excuse to use the pool there.”

  “She should have invited us. We could have made a foursome with her mom.” Not that either could py.

  Joey made a face at that suggestion. “Or I could have picked up some money as their caddie.”

  “Oh, I remember you used to do that. Right over here at the Beach Club course.” Both girls lived practically next door to it. Different doors, though, Joey to the east, Ronnie a few blocks south of the greens. Ronnie had been too shy to try it herself, nor did she have that jaunty, athletic air Joey projected and the golfers seemed to like. “We both could use some money.”

  “Gee, girl, you’ve only been unemployed half a week. Enjoy your vacation. Gather hibiscus buds while you may!”

  “In your yard I’m more likely to gather sand spurs. Hey, let’s walk somewhere.”

  “Um, you remember you brought your bike, don’t you?”

  “I don’t feel like riding.” She wasn’t sure why. She just didn’t. Or maybe she wanted a slower pace today, a chance to see things the way she used to see them. Who knew if she might ever again?

  Joey locked the house behind them, the side door in the cluttered carport. Both her stepdad and mom were at work. The pair strolled up the narrow, curved street. There were kids pying, in the yards, in the street. Little kids with toy soldiers in the white sand, focused on whatever wars they were fighting. Kids pying tag or throwing balls, hiding from each other, pointing cap guns. Kids yelling, kids being kids.

  Joey seemed to like them. She was smiling at them anyway. Ronnie wasn’t so sure. Maybe a child or two would be okay, someday. They stopped at a corner.

  To the right would be Lake Park Elementary, as the street curved around a ke, first east, then more north. Both had attended there, though Joey only through fourth grade. “Want to mess around on the swings or something?” she asked, nodding in the school’s direction.

  “Not particurly.” Joey looked the other direction. “I did walk this way to and from Naples High most days.”

  Ronnie was certainly aware of that. She did too, sometimes, but had been as likely to ride the bus, and then she had the Simca her senior year. Joey would rarely take her up on a offer to drive her home.

  The two stood there a little while. “It’s not the same, is it?” asked Ronnie.

  “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Come on.”

  Not to the high school. There would be no point to that. They walked a circuit of the neighborhood, around the kes that gave it its name. This too was the town where they had grown up, “Naples is more than beaches and big houses,” Ronnie mused. “It’s pces like this. People like this.”

  “There’s a whole other world on this side of the Trail.”

  “A Naples that looks away from the beach.”

  Joey snickered. “Into the swamps!”

  “The mighty Evergdes. Cypress and saw grass! Some of the guys here are probably counting the days till hunting season when they can drive their buggies through the mud.” A realization hit her. “Oh, Swamp Buggy Days! I think I’ll miss the parade this year. I’ve never done that before.” That suddenly felt like a very big thing, much bigger than Ronnie would ever have thought. “Watch it for me, won’t you?”

  “Will do. But I won’t go to the swamp buggy races.” They were back to Joey’s street and turned left onto it. “Though that’s part of Naples too, isn’t it? You can lose sight of all that when you hang around with people named Summerlin.”

  “Or Greene?” Ronnie asked, as innocently as she was able. She recognized she probably wasn’t too convincing.

  “Oh, but we trained Kris properly. We got to her early.”

  “Yeah. Saved her from a lifetime of privilege.” Kris. Joey. Damn. “Everyone will be gone, won’t they? Kris and me and Will and all the Summerlins and—everyone.”

  “An will still be here. We can get together and gossip about you.”

  They stood in front of the Varney house again. It was a homely little ft-roofed concrete block pce. Not even stuccoed, and painted a pale green. They didn’t go inside but sat down in a pair of wn chairs. The webbing was frayed but they probably wouldn’t fall through. She hoped not.

  Or was this the Pnter house? Joey’s mom was married to Wayne Pnter now. Joey had been saying something about Lin Sas and the Summerlin house. Maybe it was the same but she doubted it. That was a question for experts. Legal experts. “I’ve been researching being an attorney,” she told Joey. “What courses I should be taking and that sort of thing.”

  “Pre-w? Isn’t that a thing?”

  “I think so but it looks like I can pretty much stick with what I already had id out for me the first couple years. Get my degree in English maybe.” Or one of the social sciences. Definitely no education courses. Ruling those out had lifted something of a cloud that had been floating about on Ronnie’s horizon and annoying her.

  “So you don’t have to decide anything right away.”

  “No. Not until I graduate with my Bachelor’s, in theory. Not that I won’t be looking past that.”

  “I’m barely looking beyond my first semester. Maybe I should aim for an English degree.” Joey closed her eyes for a moment. Ronnie thought she was just going to sit here in the sun without saying more. “I have been writing. A lot.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I hope so.”