The drive seemed to take forty hours instead of four, and it also seemed to take no time at all. When we hit the city, it was still light out. We drove into our old neighborhood. Everything looked the same but way fancier than I remembered. I used to think that most people had nice houses and at least a small pool and went to private school and had nannies and all that. Now I know most people don’t. Now we don’t. When we lived here, our parents and teachers were always telling us how lucky we were and how we should be grateful. They were right and they weren’t. Our new life isn’t bad, thanks to my mom getting me a bike, and Rigmor and my new semi-dangerous friends who are cool in their own way.

It’s weird to think Larry will never read this. Probably no one will. But if someone else does, I want you to know that Larry would understand about my new life. He was always more responsible than the rest of us. His parents are divorced, and his dad lives in Europe half the time for his job, and his mom has, or at least had, a busy job, but they also do charity stuff and help poor people. We never did that. My parents probably should have made me do more charity things so I would be as mature as Larry.

“What’s the plan?” asked Kate, when we were about five minutes from Larry’s.

I shrugged.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” said my mom. Her face was sort of shiny because she went straight from teaching her class to driving all the way to the city. Or maybe she was just nervous. I know I was.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” said Kate, turning around to look at me in the back seat. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go see your father first?” said Mom. “Or at least talk some things through before you talk to Larry?”

“No,” I said.

We pulled up the steep driveway to Larry’s place. The light was soft and a little yellow, the way it gets in Vegas later in the day. Larry’s house is a little smaller than our old house.