Finally, there came three distinct snapping sounds from behind the door.

“That was it,” said Nattie. “He’s awake.”

“Good,” said Circa. “I bet they’re almost done. Now get away from there so Miles doesn’t clobber you when he comes in.”

Nattie got up and stood next to Dad’s chair, which Circa had already swiveled toward the kitchen in anticipation of Miles’s return…specifically, the return of Miles’s chin. Despite the fact that the talk on the other side of the door had long since dwindled to just a quiet discussion between Mom and the doctor, it seemed like forever that they waited. Circa grew impatient to know what was going on. Had Miles accidentally stayed hypnotized? Did he pass out? Had the man in some sort of head-doctor way discovered that Miles had no story to find?

While Nattie resumed her eavesdropping, Circa watched out the front studio window for the doctor to leave the house. When she finally saw the man step off the front porch and head toward his car, Circa gave a wave for Nattie to clear away from the door again. At least five minutes passed, but no Miles.

“Come on,” said Circa. “Let’s just go in there.”

The girls opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. There they found Mom, and only Mom, sitting at the table. She was staring at the empty chair across from her.

“Hey, girls,” Mom said, tap-tap-tapping a business card on its edge nervously. “The doctor’s gone, but Miles went upstairs with a bad headache.”

“Oh,” said Circa, disappointed. “So how did it go?”

Mom didn’t answer. She just stared ahead with the same hazy-eyed look she’d had in the hospital. Circa hoped Mom hadn’t said anything senseless in front of the psychiatrist. Or maybe he was used to that, she thought.

“I better go,” said Nattie. “Let me know what you find out, Circ.” Nattie slyly pointed to her own chin. “Okay?”

“Find out about what?” said Mom.

“How it went with Miles,” Circa answered swiftly, telling herself that technically it wasn’t a lie. “Just come to the studio after supper, Nat,” she said.

Once Nattie was gone, Circa took a seat at the table. “What happened, Mom?” she asked. “Is Miles okay?”

“He’s all right,” she said. “But the evaluation didn’t go so well.”

Mom leaned in close to speak more quietly. “The doctor really put Miles through it,” she said. “He even hypnotized him to try and help him remember, but Miles just got upset when he was under. When he woke up, he couldn’t even tell us why.”

Circa could tell by Mom’s purposeful deep breathing that there was something even bigger bothering her.

“What else happened?” she said.

Mom picked at the corner of the business card. “The doctor seems to think that before Miles is assigned his placement, that we need to take him to the scene of his first memory,” she said. “In order to help him remember farther back.”

“To the reunion place?” said Circa. She couldn’t imagine Mom agreeing to put herself through that. “So are we going?” Circa wondered if the trip might make Miles remember the message from Dad.

Mom got up to magnet the card to the fridge. “I can’t even begin to think about that right now, Circa. I’m having a real hard time being Sunny Backdrop today, if you know what I mean.”

Mom sat back down.

“What?” said Circa. “You know about that name?”

Mom nodded. “Your crazy mom notices more than you think,” she said.

“Mom,” said Circa, trying to make out the words scribbled on the doctor’s business card. “What did that woman mean when she talked about Miles’s placement?”

“I guess she was talking about where he’ll stay until his condition changes,” Mom said. “According to the rules, it sounds like the state was supposed to be taking care of him from the start.” Mom cleared her throat dramatically “Let’s just pray Mrs. Linholt isn’t making that decision herself,” she said.

Circa made out that the card on the fridge had an appointment date scribbled on it. June 16th, Dr. Jones, Psychiatry. She felt glad that Miles had a follow-up appointment scheduled. Maybe that meant placement would have to wait a couple weeks. The word itself was such a black cloud.

“Circa, why don’t you go on upstairs and check on Miles. Make sure he’s all right,” Mom said. “I’ve got a call I need to make.

“Oh, and here you go,” she added, handing Circa a couple of Tylenols and a water. “Give this to him for his head.”

On the way up the stairs, Circa so trembled in anticipation of seeing Miles that she almost spilled the water. Would the scar be there, or would it be gone? And how would she look at his chin without giving away what she had done? When she approached the guest room, Miles rolled over onto his side and faced the opposite wall.

“Hey, Miles. It’s me,” she said.

“Hey,” he answered without looking.

“I brought you something for your headache,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“But you have to sit up to take it,” said Circa.

Miles rolled onto his back and scooted up against the bed pillows. Circa handed him the medicine and the water. As he tilted his head back to swallow it all down, despite how puffy his eyes were from being upset downstairs, Circa was far more concerned with another detail. That scar, red and diagonal and shiny as ever. Still right there on his chin. Defeated, Circa slumped on the cedar chest at the end of the bed.

“Blew it,” said Miles.

“What?” said Circa.

“Blew it,” said Miles. “I blew another help-the-lost-kid session.”

“Man. Sorry,” said Circa, distracted by wondering if there was maybe a simple explanation why this Shopt change hadn’t worked.

“A million more questions I couldn’t answer, and then the guy does this hocus-pocus hypnojunk that must have made me blubber like a doofus from the way they were looking at me,” said Miles. “And on top of that, I snap out of it with nothing but a brain ache.”

Was there a difference between it and the other picture changes that had seemed to come true? Circa considered.

“And to make things more embarrassing, the guy printed me like I was some kind of criminal,” said Miles.

“Printed you?” Circa said.

“He had to get my fingerprints, because Mrs. Linholt was so frazzled out she forgot,” he said. “He didn’t even have a kit, so he took out a little half dried up ink pad and made me put my fingerprints across his business cards.”

Miles held up one hand’s worth of smudgy black fingertips to prove it to Circa. Then it suddenly hit her. That’s it, she thought. Printed. The other pictures had been printed. The Miles one had not. Even the dog one hadn’t been printed until days after Circa had Nattie look out her window. Maybe that’s why Nattie didn’t see anything that night. Maybe it appeared only yesterday.

Phew, thought Circa. There was still hope for the Shopt powers.

“Are you even listening to me?” said Miles. “You’re acting like you’re on another planet or something.”

“I’m here,” said Circa. “Just thinking is all.…Shouldn’t they have done all that at the police station?”

“I guess the sergeant was too worried about his Code Thirty-two to remember,” said Miles. “Let’s just hope I wasn’t some sort of major creep in my past life.”

“I doubt it,” said Circa. “Even if you are a casserole thief and a jerk flattener.”

Miles ignored the joke altogether.

“So what does all that junk from today mean?” asked Circa. “What happens now?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But it can’t be good. They’ll probably lock me up like that kook at the jail.”

“No. Don’t say that,” said Circa.

Miles folded a pillow and propped it under his neck. “The doctor told your mom she should take me back to the scene of the reunion,” he said. “And she didn’t seem too thrilled by the idea.”

“I heard,” said Circa, rubbing the head on one of Great-Aunt Ruby’s cherub figurines. “Sounds like it was a Sergeant Simms Code Thirty-two kind of moment down there too.”

“Yeah,” said Miles. “What was it? Can I just get me an oatmeal cream pie and start this fail of a day over?”

“I think it was a honeybun,” Circa said, but Miles didn’t even smile. Circa thought maybe he could use a little touch of magic to lift his spirits.

“I told Nat about the Shopt stuff,” she said.

Miles peeked out from behind a pillow. “You showed her the folder?”

“No. But I did tell her about the mysterious stuff. I just had to.”

Miles sunk back behind the pillow.

“You want to meet in the studio tonight and test it out?” said Circa. “I mean, after your head gets better?”

“Why not?” he said all muffled.

“Good,” said Circa. “Just come down whenever.”

Circa went to her room, aiming to call Nattie and report her findings on the chin scar. But when she picked up the phone, Mom was still on the line. Circa held her breath and listened.

“That’s great,” said Mom to whoever. “If you would, just send the info to the house and we’ll give it a try.”

Circa realized that holding her breath had been a bad plan, when it meant she had to exhale twice as big.

“Circ, is that you on here?” Mom said. Circa panicked and hung up, as soft as she could. She tiptoed downstairs to continue listening in the foyer just outside the kitchen, but soon as she’d made it, Mom was saying her thank-you and hanging up.

“Who was that?” Circa asked as she pushed through the double doors.

“Oh, just some info gathering,” said Mom. “Nothing for you to worry about.” Mom looked all sorts of weary. “I’m going to—”

“I know, I know,” said Circa. “You’re going to take a nap.”

Mom shuffled from the kitchen without argument. Circa looked at the phone sitting on the table and thought about Miles and that sparkly phone of Mrs. Linholt’s. Instantly, the redial button began calling to her. As soon as she could hear Mom padding around her bedroom directly above, Circa grabbed up the phone and pressed redial. She’d planned on just hanging up as soon as she found out who Mom had called…until an all-too-familiar, skin-prickling voice answered.

“Thanks for calling the MG,” he said. “S’up?”

Stanley.

At first, Circa was disgusted that Stanley had answered the phone, but the ick turned less icky when she realized what that actually meant. That Mom had called Maple Grove. On purpose. Was she planning a visit? Had she called to discuss the Memory Wall? Circa remembered what she’d overheard on Mom’s call. About sending a packet to the house. Getting the ball rolling. Could she be talking about the pictures?

“Helloooo. Not getting any younger here,” said Stanley.

“Stanley, put Lily on the phone.”

“Who is this?”

“Get Lily.”

“Shrinkie Pinkie?”

“Get Lily now.”

“Say please.”

Circa wanted to vomit at the thought of saying please to Stanley, but she had business to take care of.

“Please.”

“Hang on,” he said. “And oh, be sure and tell that empty-headed stray of yours that I’ll look forward to helping him move in.”

Circa felt her heart sink like a stone. What did he mean, move in? She could hear the scratches and bumps of someone wrestling the phone away from Stanley on the other end.

Another call beeped in on the Monroe line. Circa clicked over. “Hello?” she said impatiently. “No, Nat, nothing changed. Hey, Nattie, I gotta go. Bye.”

Circa clicked back over to a voice saying frantically, “Hello? Circa?”

“I’m here,” said Circa.

“Baby, don’t pay him no mind,” Lily said in a fluster.

“Lily, what was he talking about?” said Circa.

“Your momma didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“Well, I guess there’s no harm in me telling,” said Lily. “She and I just spoke about your friend Miles.”

Oh no, thought Circa. She imagined Miles behind a colored door for the next eighty years.

“I told her that—” began Lily, but Circa interrupted.

“You mean that call wasn’t about the Memory Wall?” she said.

“No, baby.”

The lump of dread in the pit of Circa’s stomach doubled in size.

“Lily?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Are you guys putting up a wall fountain?”

There was a terrible silence on the line.

“And that’s why you haven’t been giving me any pictures?”

Circa could hear Lily draw in a breath.

“Yes, baby,” said Lily. “Please don’t be mad with me, Circa. I didn’t know how to tell you without giving you more pain. It’s just that the Memory Wall idea was your daddy’s thing, and he was doing all that fine work for us for free, and I didn’t think much of anybody could live up to that kind of talent or kindness.”

“But I was going to try,” said Circa, her eyes filling with tears. “Lily, I was going to try.”

“I know that, precious girl. We just felt with him gone on to heaven that our Memory Wall might well need to be—”

“To be dead,” said Circa.

“Oh no, baby,” said Lily. “Please don’t—”

“Okay then, bye,” interrupted Circa. She was shamelessly aware that she’d just hung up on Lily. She was also certain that she’d heard enough.