Prologue “Emmy, can you hand me that Allen wrench?” My dad sticks his hand out from beneath the Challenger. I push the jar of screws and coins out of the way, grab the wrench out of the toolbox, and skip around the fender lying on the ground. “Is it fixed yet?” I ask, setting the wrench in his hand. His legs wiggle as he scoots further under the car. “Patience, Emmy. These things take time.” “Like how long? An hour?” I ask impatiently. “Dad, I want you to drive it really fast. And I want to be in there too.” My dad laughs. “Alright, we can do that.” “You promise?” I say. “You cross your heart?” He laughs again and drops the wrench onto the concrete. “Yeah, cross my heart and hope to die.” My eyes wander to the corner of the garage as I return to the jars of screws and coins and begin plucking out the pennies one by one and arrange them in groups on the concrete. The metal clinks with each coin dropped and I hum along with the song on the radio, a song about death and the acceptance of it. I wonder if it might be talking about my friend in the corner of the garage, the one who always watches and follows me wherever I go. He