I sit down at my desk, and I type out everything in messages that are pages and pages long. Everything I’ve tried to tell Jude, everything about Gramps and Dewey and my IEP, and everything I’ve wanted to say and haven’t, and even some things I didn’t realize until now. I finish off with what I think is a good thing to tell her:

ME: So I guess maybe I’ve also been a little jealous of your new friends (even jordie) and it was easier to just stop listening to you than to think that we’re growing apart.

ME: I should’ve been more honest about how I was feeling.

ME: But I guess the real reason for everything is that I miss you, and I hate when things change, but I know nothing can just stay the same forever (that would be boring!)

ME: p.s. i would be soooo happy if you could still come for winter break. and if you do, I really want you and macy to be friends too because she’s pretty terrific! please think about it, biffle <3

There’s a knock on my bedroom door. It’s Noah. “Whatcha doing?” he asks. “Wanna hang out?”

“Are you just being nice to me because you know I feel like crap right now?” I ask.

He makes a pshh sound and says, “No. Why would I do that?” he retorts. “Also, don’t say crap.”

Downstairs, Noah makes us a bag of microwave popcorn and we play video games while he shows me all the secret maneuvers it’s taken him years to perfect. It helps the time go by faster, and I realize I am starting to feel just a little bit better.

Dewey and Catniss curl up between us on the couch, each of them snoring in an alternating rhythm, blocking out the crashing and banging sounds of the video game. It’s almost ten o’clock before we hear the car pull into the driveway. Dewey barks once, announcing their return.

Noah and I rush to the front door, watching them come up the walkway with Gramps. When they get inside, everyone looks ragged and exhausted. Gramps is wearing a coat I don’t recognize—I guess they must’ve given it to him at the police station.

He blinks a few times like he’s waking up from a dream and is seeing us for the first time. “Hiya, kids,” he says. His voice is so quiet.

“Are you okay, Gramps?” I ask.

He looks at me, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, Mama says, “We’ll talk about everything in the morning, but for now let’s get everyone to bed.”

Noah and I say our goodnights and head upstairs, while Mom helps Gramps to get out of his coat. At the top of the stairs, Noah starts to head down the hall to his room.

“Noah?” I say, and he turns around. “Thanks.”