Dee and I walk home together, which is the norm now. There is no one else to wait for. It feels like a lifetime ago that Lottie and I were friends, like someone else’s life, the memory of a dream. As we pass her house, I can see part of the treehouse in the backyard. There are faded blues and reds of paint from when Lottie and I decorated it one summer. That feels like eons ago now.

Pete knows, I can tell. He made a comment today when I was gathering my things at the end of class.

“Haven’t seen you around the house in a while, Stevie. I know that you and Lottie are kind of going in different directions these days. I’m not crazy about the kids she’s hanging out with, just between you and me.” He paused while I rooted around my backpack like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “But honestly, that is par for the course at your age. You two will find your way back to each other. You just have to give it time.”

I looked out the window and he continued, “But is everything okay with you? Have things improved, you know, with the kids giving you a tough time?”

“Oh yeah, for sure; everything is fine.” I forced a smile, stuffing my binders into my backpack. I was thinking about how he is planning on moving out of Lottie’s house, how he is leaving that family, leaving the school—and me by extension—and I could feel the color in my face rising a little. “How are you?”

Here’s the thing. Pete has been like a mother and a father to me my entire life. He always made me feel like he had time for me, which is, though not a lot of adults realize it, the most important thing you can give a kid. And you can’t fake it. Parents try to fake it all the time. They say, “Yep, I’ll be right there” when you’re little and ask them to play Lego with you, but then they never come, or they’ll pretend to be watching when you are practicing handstands underwater, and even though you’re holding your breath, you’re not holding your breath that they’ll still be looking when you burst out of the water to see their reaction. They’ll be looking at their phone or at a book or at another grown-up.

But Pete never made me feel that way. He was like a kid, fun and adventurous, but would also sit at the kitchen table and ask me what was wrong even before I knew anything was. He treated me like I was his second daughter.