Charmed. That wasn’t a word I heard much, especially from someone as sparkly as Nora. I was stupidly pleased by the compliment.

We got to the stoop and I found to my relief that all the Amberley students had disappeared back through their prodigy portals. The front room was silent, but I could hear Dad pacing the floor up in his study.

“I won’t be long,” I called over my shoulder.

“No rush!” Nora was already absorbed in her cell phone, pushing buttons with the tip of one finger like she wasn’t sure how to work it.

I took the stairs to my fourth-floor bedroom two at a time, passing dusty-framed black-and-white photos—a recent pic of Alice playing the viola, Win at the podium, Leo with his oboe, me at ten holding that ridiculous piccolo.

Then I confronted my closet, every hanging garment blurring into a smear.

Dress. A light dress.

I pictured Nora’s outfit—knee-length pink and orange, heels—and picked the most similar dress I could find—pale blue, starchy. I hadn’t worn it for a few years. It was tight against my armpits, shorter than I remembered, but whatever, it would work.

I kicked on some lace flats and scooted down to the third-floor bath for a quick splash of water to help with the death-pallor thing, and—

I turned the handle and the door slammed back in my face. “Oh.”

“Just a sec!” Oscar’s voice rang out. Then the sound of the toilet flushing. And a zipper.

“Oh. No. Take your . . .” I paced away, heart pounding. Then I fled to my room, staring out my window at the white-washed walls of the apartment building across the street until I was sure I could hear the bathroom door open and his steps moving down the creaking stairs.

Why was I embarrassed? This was my home. Mine.

I threw open my door to prove it, and thundered down two narrow flights, only to come to a halt at the sight of Nora, Dad, Oscar all standing around the dining area—Nora perched on her tiptoes, trying to touch Oscar’s hair, murmuring, “You are so lucky, mine just sits there!”

What in the no.

Oscar’s laughing eyes darted to mine, one blink flashing mayday.

“There’s a lock,” I blurted. First thing to pop into my head.

Nora pulled her hand back to gawk at me, and Oscar shifted out of reach.

“On the bathroom door.”

Oscar imitated sheepishness. “I noticed a second too late. Sorry.”

I shrugged, so very breezy. “I didn’t see anything. So.”

Thus descended the heaviest silence in the history of Manhattan Island.

Dad clapped a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Shall we get to work?”

And the tableau churned back into motion.

“I’m abducting your daughter for a fundraiser tea,” Nora shouted. “Hope that’s all right!”

“As long as all she drinks is tea.” Dad shot me a wink over his shoulder.