As I flipped through them, I realized that there weren’t any people in them. Lots of strange angles, some cool devices from where Uncle Kevin worked, and the sunset on my first day here. It felt empty, like I had just captured the outside of things but I was missing the inside. Before I left, I was going to take pictures of — people. Friends wasn’t exactly right, but I wanted to remember them: Kirandra, J, Uncle Kevin — everyone. It would be a lot better than forgetting, like I had never been here at all.

After breakfast, I scanned Uncle Kevin’s note and remembered the discussion that we had last night. Today would be a day of cleaning the vinyl siding on either side of the house, outside. The job required a pressure washer and he didn’t own one. Fortunately, he had hooked me up with someone who did. “Go talk to the Martins. They’re three houses down on the right. They know you’re coming.” The note reminded me of the water-to-bleach ratio that the machine needed.

I lazed around a bit before I took a shower and got some clothes on. Part of me thought about what would happen if I just didn’t do the job at all. The images that came to mind convinced me that was a bad idea: getting grounded by my uncle, being shipped on a plane home, having my parents keep an eye on me no matter what I did after that. I did call J, though, to see what he was up to. His mom said that he was over with friends playing Zombie Mayhem Twelve. “It’s the Thursday fragfest,” she said. I got the impression that she played the game herself, and that she was pretty good.

I made my way over to the Martin’s around ten. I knocked and Mr. Martin greeted me at the door. He was a spry older man, about the age of my grandfather, I guessed. He wore black-rimmed glasses that barely held back bright dark-blue eyes. That sounds weird, but his eyes were bright even though they were dark in color. His nose seemed too large for his glasses, he had a mop of thinning black hair, and his hands were always moving.