It helped a little that Oren checked in a few times a day. When he wasn’t sleeping or barfing, I mean.

Mom even took over some matzo-ball soup for them that Dad had made from scratch. It was a nice thing for her to do, but it would have been nicer if she’d let me go with her to visit my friend.

I finished as much of Oren’s memorial picture as I could. I had added myself too—in the form of a snowy owl sitting on one of the branches of the tree. I’d written my full name—Evelyn Marcia Walman—in black marker on some of the strips I used to make it. The ink peeked out and looked cool, just like feather markings. I couldn’t wait for him to see it. I had something else to show him too.

It felt like forever before his uncle returned to work and Oren felt well enough to leave his house. By the time he showed up on Thursday morning, I was so desperate to see him I could barely stand it.

Finally he came walking down the street. I had been waiting for him and threw the door open the second he started up the porch stairs.

I was smiling so hard that my face hurt.

“Hey, Evie,” he said. “It’s been a while!”

“I know!” I said. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

He wasn’t just feeling better either. He looked amazing. I hadn’t realized how much I’d gotten used to his injuries after the accident. He still had his cast on, of course, but all traces of bruising were gone from his face and even the scar down his cheek had healed a lot—it was much lighter than it had been. And the circles under his eyes were gone.

“Come on in,” I said, waving him inside. “I can’t wait to show you how the picture is looking. I hope you don’t mind I’ve been working on it.”

“Not at all,” he said as he followed me into the dining room.

“FRANÇOIS!” we yelled together at the cat hunched on the table, enjoying a strip of paper that was sticking out of my bin. Startled, he ran off, taking the paper with him.

“He’s for sure going to barf that up somewhere,” I said as I shook my head. But I was relieved the cat hadn’t damaged the picture at all.

I held my breath as Oren stared at it. Until I couldn’t hold it anymore. “So?” I asked, my heart pounding. “What do you think?”

He looked at me, his eyes shiny with tears. “Evie, I love it.”

I exhaled in relief. “Even the owl?”

He nodded as he looked back at the picture. Then he held it up at arm’s length. “Especially the owl. Seriously, it’s perfect. So you. Wise and—”

“Hooty?” I finished for him.

He laughed. “Sure. Let’s go with hooty. Seriously, though, I really love it. Thank you.”

“I have something else,” I said nervously. “Something I want to show you.”