The plane reached thirty thousand feet, and the clouds below them were solid, and the world Macey occupied was as unreachable as the past.

The sky was like candy, taffy pink with disappearing sun. The sun slid lower in the sky and pink became bloodred. The bright green leaves of the trees grew dark against the sky, losing their color, just cool shadow.

Graff said, “Mace? I’m closing.”

She struggled to focus on him. She had not known she was in the media center. She had not known there were people around her. She’d been staring out the window, falling into the alone of her life.

“What were you looking up?” asked Graff. “I hated to disturb you.”

She got up unsteadily, as awkward as that seventh-grader whose arms stuck out too far, and whose legs banged together when she walked. “Just fooling around with that site that has every phone number in the USA.”

“Yeah? Who’d you find? Somebody cool?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know yet. Thank you for staying open for me.” She put one foot in front of the next. Then she picked up another foot and stuck it ahead, too. It was a plan. Eventually she would reach a phone.

There was a phone in the massive front lobby. Actually, there were six phones. The school building wouldn’t close just because the media center was closing; there were athletic events and night classes and meetings. She could telephone people indefinitely. She leaned against the wall and thought: I can do this. I can even do it alone. I don’t have to have Aus with me. Although I wouldn’t mind. Although I’d love it.

She picked up a phone. She tapped in her credit card number. She tapped in the California number she’d gotten off the Internet.

A man answered.

“May I please speak to Mr. Wade Sibley?”

“This is Wade Sibley.”

“You’re not angry, Mr. Sibley?” she said. “I’m angry.”

“Of course you’re angry. I was angry for years. But it wore off. Go easy on your mother, Macey. She was thirteen. It’s not a brave age. You don’t have the courage, when you’re thirteen, to stand up to your parents and your whole neighborhood.”

Her grandparents had not been thirteen. They could have stood up if they’d wanted. There had been only one couple with courage. “Who were the Beedons, anyway? I didn’t find them.”