While we roll the dice and draw the cards and keep score of our points, it feels like old times, when we used to visit Gramps at his apartment and just hang out, being a family. I don’t even mind that we’re having pizza yet again. The only thing that could make this family night more perfect is if Dewey were here already, sleeping at my feet.

It’s only when Catniss decides to jump up onto the table and swipe at the game pieces on the board that Mama stretches in her chair and looks at the time on the microwave.

“Eleven o’clock!” she exclaims. “I think we should call it a night, guys.”

“You mean you forfeit,” Mom says.

“Yes,” Mama giggles. “We bow down to you, oh queen of all board games.”

We begin putting all the games back in their boxes, and Mom says she’s heading up to bed. “We have a big day tomorrow, don’t we, Dad?”

Gramps looks at me, catching my wide-eyed worried expression. Tomorrow? I mouth.

“How’s that, Katie?” he asks Mom. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Dad, you asked me just this afternoon if we could go by your apartment to pack some of your things up so you have them here.”

“Oh, that,” Gramps says. “Yes. Of course I remember—I just didn’t think that qualifies as a big day.”

“Girls, say good night to Gramps, all right?” Mama says. “And brush your teeth before bed.”

When Gramps hugs me, he whispers, “Close call,” and winks, which tells me two things: one, he knows exactly what’s going on, and two, he came through on his plan to get Moms out of the house tomorrow in a very believable way.

Upstairs in my bedroom, Moms have laid out an air mattress.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Macy says as she lies down in my bed.

“Me too.” And it’s true; I did. But as we get settled in and turn the lights off, my mind starts to go through all of the possible things that could go wrong with Code Name: Home, Sweet Home.

“Macy?” I begin. “Are you still awake?”

“Mm-hmm.”

I sit up on the air mattress so we’re at eye level. “There’s something I should tell you about Dewey.” I pause, trying to figure out the least strange way to say it. She turns over on her side so that she can face me. “Have you ever felt like you knew what Dango was thinking?”

“Sure.”

“Not from the way he acts, but like . . . he talks to you.”

“What?” Her eyebrows knit together as she looks at me with confusion. “Like, out loud?”

“No, not out loud, but like that his thoughts are in your head. Telepathy, I mean.”

“No,” she answers slowly. “Why?”

“Well, it’s sort of like that with Dewey and me.”