“What’s this?” Tammy asks, reaching out to touch Davey Beet’s hat. I shy away, dumping some of the water in my lap. I can stand to have someone touch me, but Davey’s stuff is another story and not one I’ll tell to just anybody. “It’s a hat,” I say. Tammy nods and slowly sits down next to me, propping her elbows on her legs like I do. I pull my blanket closer around me, covering my fireboard and whiskey bottle, like I’m afraid she might try to take them away.
