With all those truths ringing out in the open air, everything felt raw and strange. No one talked for a while. My story swirled around the room, the way sometimes when you’ve been spinning in circles a long time, even once you’ve stopped, you can still feel the world moving. Jenny went into the kitchen for the frozen peas. She came back, lay down on the couch, and pressed the cold plastic bag across her forehead and closed her eyes.

Nana Jean swung into action. She hauled out the phone book and started turning pages. “Got to keep you safe,” she said. “We all have to do the right thing, sweet girl, even when the right thing is hard. I’m going to call someone about what you just told me. Then I’m going to call your mama. And then I’ll tell you what we’re going to do next, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered. “Are they going to come and take me away?”

“No one is taking anyone away,” said Nana Jean. “These are just phone calls. And then we’ll talk.”

“Are they going to put my mother in jail?”

Nana Jean stopped and looked me full in the face.

“Whatever happens next will be the right thing for you and your mama. I promise.”

“But what is the right thing?”

“I don’t know,” said Nana Jean, honestly. “I don’t know, sweet girl. But I’m going to find out. Now I need you kids out of the house for a while. I have something important I got to do now, okay? And I need to be able to think.”

I didn’t move or speak. My heart was beating too hard.

“Okay,” said Ziggy. “If you need us, we’ll be outside.”

Nana Jean picked up the phone and began dialing.

I went to get Backpack from the kitchen. Ziggy put Matthew on his head. We left Jenny and Nana Jean in the living room, and we walked slowly, side by side, out of the living room, down the front hallway, out the door, down the porch steps, and over to the copper beech tree, where the sun was shining through the leaves.

How could the sun be shining when everything in my life was changing so fast?

I climbed the tree with Backpack on my shoulders. Ziggy went next with Matthew on his head. I put out my hand and helped him up. We looked at each other’s faces.

“I think Nana Jean is going to call the police,” I said.

“Me too,” said Ziggy.

“Do you think they’re going to take my mother away and put me in foster care?”

“I don’t know,” said Ziggy. “Maybe.”

“Maybe they’ll let me stay with you and Jenny and Nana Jean.”

“You could be my sister.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We could be a family.”

But we both heard the way those words rang in the air, and we could tell it wasn’t going to be true.

I took Backpack off my shoulders and placed him between us.

“Will you help me keep my balance while I do something really important?” I asked Ziggy.

“Anything,” said Ziggy. But his voice was breaking.

“I’m going to carve my name into this tree,” I said. “So when they take me away, there will be part of me left behind.”

“Don’t talk that way,” Ziggy said.

“I don’t want you to forget who I am.”

“How could I forget you?” said Ziggy. “You have been my first true friend.”

“And you have been mine,” I said. “Help me turn around so I can face the trunk.”

Ziggy steadied himself by hugging the branch with his knees. He reached out and held my waist, leaning into me and pulling down while I inched around so my cheek was leaning against the trunk. Once I found a smooth spot with no burls or notches, I began my work.

“First I need Letter Opener,” I told him.

I could hear the clatter of Necessaries behind me. Ziggy handed me Letter Opener by the wooden handle.

I pushed on his flat blade to chip into the bark, clearing away the skin. I worked until I had chipped away a small, neat square. I chiseled Letter Opener back and forth until the bark fell away. I knew it hurt to rip the tree’s flesh. All scars hurt. But maybe pain was the right thing to remember that once upon a time there was a girl named June Bug whose mother loved her, but didn’t how to make it stick.

“Okay, Ziggy. I’m handing back Letter Opener now. Just put him back in and be careful not to cut yourself. He’s sharp.”

“All right,” said Ziggy, his voice small and shaking. “I’m ready.”

I handed him back nice and slow.

“What do you need next?”

“Scissors,” I said. “He’s at the bottom somewhere.”

There was the sound of Necessaries clattering as Ziggy fished around inside Backpack.

Ziggy handed Scissors to me, and I took him.

I used Scissors to carve each letter of my name. With the tough bark gone, the wood was soft. It was easy to drag his long tooth into the patch. I started with the J, a long, curved loop and then a straight edge. Then the U, deep and curling. The N and the E were the hardest, with three and four separate slices. Once I had the outline of each letter, I traced inside each groove, pressing the blade over and over again until the cut of each letter was deep, about a quarter of an inch into the flesh. Now I could see my name clearly. Each letter bold and clear, announcing my name to the neighborhood for the first and last time. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you JUNE JORDAN. Remember her.

I handed back Scissors.

“Now give me Carrot Scraper, please.”

There was the sound of clattering Necessaries, and then Ziggy handed Carrot Scraper to me. I used Carrot Scraper’s pointy tip to carve thin, feathery spiderweb lines all around my name, etching radiating waves from each letter to the scarred edge where flesh met bark again. Now there were snowflake lines radiating from each tip of the J, from the two arms of the U, from each arrowhead point of the N, and from every waving finger of the E. Then I started to carve designs into the frame, digging tiny nicks all along the fleshy patch. Nick. Nick. Nick. All around. So that if you looked hard, it looked like my name was trying to shine like a diamond.

“It’s beautiful,” said Ziggy.

“Now it’s your turn to make ZIGGY so you can leave something behind too.”

“I don’t think so,” said Ziggy. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But Jenny came back for you. Maybe tomorrow or the next day you’ll be going home.”

“She didn’t come back for me,” said Ziggy. “She came back because of her eye. She’ll stay until the swelling goes down. And then she’ll go back to Donny.”

“How do you know?”

“That’s what she did the last time,” said Ziggy.

“Maybe this time will be different.”

“Maybe,” said Ziggy. “But I’m not going to hold my breath. Besides, Nana Jean said that the house on Trowbridge Road can be mine as long as I need it to be. And I think that’s pretty good, all things considered.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said.

But deep down inside, I wasn’t sure anything was better than your very own home.

I tried to imagine what it would be like to live somewhere new. I tried to imagine a place without rules for staying clean or closed rooms or secrets. I tried to imagine a place without bleach baths or locked doors. Then I tried to imagine resting my head on some other pillow in some other place without Mother smothering me, without her scent or the sound of her cello. I tried to imagine someone else saying June Bug first thing in the morning when the new sun was shining. I tried to imagine a new mommy who would make me soup when I was hungry and dry the rain off my face after a storm, then tuck me into my very own bed when I was too tired to stand. At first I felt hopeful, imagining this new place. Then I felt heartbroken. And then I felt so bewildered and confused that I could barely see straight. I began to shake.

“Hey,” said Ziggy. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

I clutched the branch and tried to breathe.

“Do you want to get down?”

I looked at the ground. It seemed so far away.

I nodded, clutching the branch.

“Want to go to Majestica?”

I nodded again.

“Okay,” said Ziggy. “I’ll help you.”

Ziggy started down first just a few steps in front of me so he could help me if I slipped. He put his hands on my feet to keep me steady, guiding me silently when I couldn’t find the right place to step. I kept my eyes wide open. My feet slipped from the footholds, and my hands didn’t know where to grasp. Close to the bottom, I froze in the middle of a step like Mother frozen at the threshold between the stairway and the kitchen. I froze and shook, suddenly terrified for my feet to slip, but Ziggy guided me gently, one inch at a time, until I was standing on the ground.

I was on my own two feet again. I was so exhausted and so thankful that I almost wanted to sink to my knees and weep, but Ziggy reached out and put his arm around my shoulder. He smiled his crooked, lopsided smile so full of sadness and friendship that I had no choice but to smile back, even though my heart was breaking.