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what to do with her grief. But it did nothing to excuse what she’d done.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The sounds of the schoolyard faded, and all I could see was the last six years:

Junie’s second birthday, me, in the kitchen late at night, icing one cake and then freezing, hand trembling as I remembered there was supposed to be two.

Or Junie at four,continue reading …