Madison runs back and pulls me down by the water. She spreads out Lola’s jacket on the concrete—keeping it safely out of reach of the waves. She sits on one side, and I sit on the other, carefully placing the cupcake in the middle of the fabric. I reach out and light the candle. The breeze from the river tries to put it out, but I cup my hands around it. “Happy birthday, Lola,” Madison whispers.
Omfg
