They had to flush out their eyes and mouths with water afterward. Together, they hunched over the kitchen sink. From the back of the house came nothing but silence, and Sam had to be grateful for that, because if their mother had asked what happened, there could be no explanation. Sam’s throat was scraped raw by capsaicin. Even her clothing burned. The water was cold but it did not do enough.

Elena, at Sam’s side, was a blur, a fuzzy figure bent with disapproval. She wasn’t pretending to speak happily anymore. Over the sound of the rushing sink: “What the hell.”

Sam pressed her wet hands to her cheeks. She had to force words out past raw peppered flesh. “Bear spray.”

Elena didn’t respond. It took fifteen long minutes of washing before Sam’s vision mostly returned, and with it, the sight of her sister, eyelashes clumped, hair dripping, complexion swollen and flared red. They both had to change out their clothes for items that weren’t contaminated. Elena carried everything to the washing machine. Down the hall, doors opened and shut. Sam wanted to peel her skin off, too, finish the job that the spray had started.

Elena came back and picked up the emptied can on the counter. She squinted at it. “ ‘Use to deter attacking animals,’ ” she read. “Were we being attacked?”

“It was right there.”

Elena kept reading. “ ‘Range of up to forty feet.’ Really, Sammy?”

Sam’s body was on fire.

“Did you even look at the directions before you used this thing?”

“I’m not a little kid,” Sam said. “You don’t need to talk to me that way.”

Elena put the can down. “That’s funny. You sure do act like it.”

Sam sucked air in. It tingled, ice crystals, on the insides of her scorched cheeks. “I do? When you— Elena, you’re out offering roast beef to bears. I am trying to help us—”

“Oh my gosh, thank you.” Elena syrupy with sarcasm. Her eyes rimmed red.

“You’re totally—you’ve lost track of what we’re supposed to be doing. You’re in the woods pretending you’re the spirit of San Juan. But you’re not. Okay? You’re not. Sorry to break it to you.”

Elena’s mouth got tight.

Sam kept going. She still burned. She didn’t know exactly what she was saying but she knew she needed to make Elena make sense again. “I get that you’re worn out, and it’s been…an exciting distraction for you, or whatever, but enough is enough, we have to…”

Elena picked up the can again. “How much did this cost?”

Sam stopped. “Madeline gave it to me.”

“Who?”

“The biologist. From the state. She came by with it today.”

Elena turned from Sam. Her shoulders bowed forward. The back of her neck was pale, a long stretch of fine bone. She was holding the can in front of herself where Sam couldn’t see. The loneliness of that body, faced away, was devastating.

“Where are the car keys?” Elena said. When Sam asked why, what for, Elena said she was going to sleep at Kristine’s.

“You can’t,” Sam said. “Mom’s not doing well. She needs you.”

Elena said she’d come back in a few hours, then, but she was going. She put the can down. Its metal rim clinked on the counter. A hollow noise. Sam trailed after her to the hall, where Elena dug out the car keys from Sam’s bag. They jingled in Elena’s palm. Sam knew exactly how her sister felt, the pepper spread across her skin, the flames licking her eyes and nostrils, the burn in her hair follicles; she understood the urge to run away, she felt it all the time. Stay here, she told Elena. Don’t go out there. Stay. Elena left.