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Bentley looked each boy in the eye, said he was in the wrong, and promised not to start anything again. The boys shook hands and accepted his apology, then the three of them headed back to class.

“I’ll pick you up later,” Caleb said as they parted ways in the hall. “I’m proud of you, okay?”

After school, they said nothing as they walked toward Avenue C, the beach, and the Sands Motor Motel.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Caleb leaned to see Bentley’s face.

“They wouldn’t let me sit at their table. Then someone said I was a crybaby.”

“For no reason?”

Bentley shook his head. Caleb kept walking as Avenue C connected to the Beachwalk behind the motor motel.

“Are you hungry?” Caleb asked. “How about something to eat?”

“Can we get tacos?”

At Tito’s Taco Truck, Caleb ordered two Taco-Taco-Taco meals, then carried the food to one of the Beachwalk benches.

“Good choice, Bent. These are my favorite.” Caleb bit into his first taco with a side glance at Bentley, who sat there, staring toward the sea blue waves lapping against the sandy beige shore, his food untouched. A single tear splashed down on the taco wrapper.

“No one wants me,” he said, lowering his head.

“Hey, buddy, that’s not true. I want you. Grandpa and Grandma want you. Your mom—”

“Dumped me off with you because Pluto doesn’t want me.”

“Pluto? I thought his name was Arturo.”

“I call him Pluto,” Bentley said. “He looks like an alien.”

Caleb grinned. Man, he liked this kid.

“I just wanted to sit with those guys at lunch,” Bentley continued. “I liked them. They made me laugh in math class. Then someone told them I was crybaby. Crying in the bathroom after gym.”

“And were you?”

“No.”

His monotone reply said otherwise. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay to miss your mom.” Caleb took a bite of his taco.

“I know.”

“So, you said you were in the same math class as those seventh graders?”

Bentley opened one of the tacos but didn’t take a bite. “I’m good at math.”

“Not surprised. So was your mom. Be proud, Bent.” Caleb slurped his soda, leaving space for Bentley to talk. When he didn’t, Caleb went on. “Do you think the boys will be nice to you now? They seemed like good guys in the principal’s office.”

“No. Why would a bunch of guys at school like me when my mom doesn’t?”

“Hey, look at me,” Caleb said. “Your mom likes you, it’s just she—” Likes herself more . “She’s figuring out a few things right now.”

“She’s always figuring things out. She left me home alone a lot until she decided I should live with you.”

“I bet she misses you. And I know she loves you. Tell you what, we’ll FaceTime with her tonight, okay?”

“Okay. But she’ll probably be busy with Pluto.” Bentley grabbed the first taco for a large bite. “Hey,” he said with a mouth full of food, “can we go roller-skating?”

“Don’t see why not. But, Bentley, really, no more fights. Talk to me if something is bothering you. Or your grandparents. Or your teachers.”

“I promise.” He took another bite of taco, then glanced up at Caleb with a sly grin. “I took on two of them, and I was winning.”

Caleb kept a straight face. “That’s what every guy thinks until he starts losing. No more fights, dude. Come on, you promised.”

“No more fights.”

Their conversation found a rhythm with Bentley telling Caleb what he loved about the classes he managed to attend before the fisticuffs. His math teacher was cool, while his science teacher was boring, and his English teacher, Ms. Ware, was really pretty.

When they’d finished their tacos and downed the last of their sodas, Caleb walked him toward the Starlight, Sea Blue Way, and home.

At the old, defunct splash pad, Caleb surveyed the East End.

Just past the Starlight was the West End line, where the brick portion of Sea Blue Way converged with smooth, well-cared-for blacktop.

Everything east of the Starlight was old, run-down, and breaking. Sea Blue Way’s bricks needed replacing, the Victorian lamps were rusty, and all the planters were either broken or empty. Several storefronts needed repair, and he saw what the mayor talked about last week.

About to step off the curb toward home, Caleb backed up when a semi crept slowly down the street, elaborately painted images on the side. Fantastic Carnival .

“A carnival!” Bentley exclaimed. “Can we go?”

The Fantastic Carnival? They were back town? Last he knew, they’d not come to the north Florida coast in years. Mom mentioned it now and then.

Last time he’d gone to the carnival was the summer of Emery Quinn. Caleb wasn’t one to believe in signs or coincidences or fate, but what were the odds of the carnival coming to town a week after Emery Quinn returned?

“We should go.” Bentley tugged on Caleb’s sweater. “I promise no more fights.”

“The Starlight, the carnival ... you’re getting a long list of wants, buddy.” He hugged Bentley close. “We can do whatever you want as long as you don’t make me ride the Ferris wheel.”

At the house, he set Bentley to do his homework, then clean his room. Since Cassidy didn’t believe in chores, Bentley had no grid for getting things done well or in a timely manner.

Meanwhile, Caleb answered emails and returned a few texts. Simon asked if Caleb would make some sort of presentation at the Tuesday night town council meeting about the Org. Homestead houses. Anything to spark interest.

Jenny Finch sent a long, bulleted document, outlining her plans and timeline for the Alderman’s job. Her contractor would arrive a week from Monday and wanted to meet with Caleb at nine o’clock sharp.

“Please bring your completed plans so we can file for approval and permits.”

In one sentence, she defined his work for the next week. Other than the job for Simon, he had nothing to do. He’d bid on a job in Panama City, but it would be weeks before he heard anything. And he had an email from Pierce Austin.

“There’s still room in St. Louis for you.”

Caleb clicked out of the email without responding. As much as he appreciated the offer, he was still betting on himself, Ransom Architecture, and Sea Blue Beach. Things around here just got a little more interesting with the arrival of Emery Quinn.

Reaching for his phone, thinking to text her about the carnival, he realized he didn’t have her number. He’d forgotten to ask in the wake of heading to the principal’s office.

“I’m done.” Bentley bounded into the office. “Can we go skating now?”

Now? Caleb skipped through his to-dos. Alderman’s plans. Town council presentation. Getting Emery’s number.

“Let’s go for inspection first.”

Upstairs, Bentley’s room and bathroom looked exactly how an eleven-year-old with no cleaning skills might “clean.” He’d moved his clothes from the floor to his bed in one cohesive pile.

He’d moved his bathroom towel from the floor to the back of the toilet.

Caleb was about to instruct him on how to fold clothes and hang up a wet towel, but you know what?

Good enough for beginners. One step at a time.

“So you want to go skating?” Caleb handed Bentley a twenty for skate rental and a snack from Spike’s Concession.

Spike had run the rink’s concession for almost forty years before retiring and handing over the Starlight to Simon.

But for posterity, and all that was good about the rink’s concession for the past sixty years, Simon kept the name.

Bentley snapped the twenty-dollar bill, then tucked it into his jeans pocket. “Please.”

“Sure. Why not. Might be fun.”

Walking toward the rink, Caleb called the Gazette to get a hold of Emery, but voicemail picked up. He didn’t leave a message.

At Sea Blue Way, he thought of the passing carnival semi and fell into a memory of that summer, Emery Quinn, and how the girl from Cleveland had stolen his heart.