Lucy says they’ll pack everything except food, which she’s donating somewhere. I don’t bother to tell her there won’t be much of that. I wonder if they’ll pack the half-used laundry liquid and the bag of rubber bands and random pipe cleaners in the bottom drawer of the kitchen. The truck’s coming the day after tomorrow. Lucy arranged that too. It’s all going into storage near Nenee’s till we figure out what to do with it.

I HAVEN’T BEEN back to school since before the letter. Lucy asked if I wanted to go back, just for the morning, to say good-bye. I like the kids there. I like my teachers. But I don’t want to say good-bye. I don’t want the questions.

Anyway, there’s only one person I really want to say good-bye to. She’s on her porch, as always.

“Leaving today, then.”

“Yep.”

She gets to her feet and holds out an arm. I wonder if she’s going to hug me. She opens the door. “Come inside. I’ve got something for you.”

We follow her in. It’s still a bit of a shock to step into a hall that’s so light and airy. Splints gets his cone caught on the doorway, so I help him through. There’s a box next to the door half-filled with junk mail and catalogs. We trip over it and follow her into the front room.

“Here.” She shoves something into my hands.

I look at it. It’s a book. It’s the book. The one we were reading, back when the stitches were still holding, before everything tore itself apart. Her daughter’s book. Lana.

“But this is—”

“No. I couldn’t give you that.”

I swallow. “Of course not.”

“It was too smelly. I got this one new, from the internet.” She looks pleased with herself.

“You have the internet?”

“Of course I have the internet. The whole suburb has the internet. Haven’t you heard of the NBN?”

“But you don’t have a computer.”

“True enough. I might get one, though. Read the papers online like you suggested.”

I stare at her in confusion. “So how did you order the book?”

“On the internet.”

“But you don’t have a computer.”

“I used my phone, you ninny.”

“Really? I didn’t think you even knew how to use the browser.”

“The what?”

“The web browser. Safari?”

“What?” She looks at me like I’m speaking in Parseltongue. “No, I called Chris and he ordered it on the internet for me. They delivered it straight to my door. Very handy. Nicely packaged too. Look at this.”

She snatches the book off me and slides it in and out of the cardboard packaging. “See?”

“That’s great, Lettie.”