“You live in Hidden Rivers?” she said when we got to the sign. She sounded incredulous. “You have a pool, don’t you? Can we go swimming? But I didn’t bring my bathing suit. Why would I bring my bathing suit to school? But next time.” She smiled her twinkly-crinkly smile. “Next time, we are going swimming.”

“It’s not open,” I said. I pointed to the sign on the fence, with the stick swimmer wearing its slash.

“Well, it’s got to open soon,” she said. “It’s practically summer vacation, so it’s got to be soon.” Bertie seemed very sure of herself. I hoped she was right.

I used my key to open the downstairs door.

“After you,” I said courteously. When we got up the stairs, I used my second key to open the door to the apartment.

Bertie dropped her backpack and looked around. “Where’s your mom?” she asked.

I looked around, too. I didn’t know how to tell Bertie I wasn’t sure my mom was going to be here.

“Uh, traffic probably,” I said. It could be true. I hoped it was.

“What about your dad?” Bertie asked. “I know we’re not going to go swimming or anything, but I think my dad kind of assumed there would be an adult here. By the way, I’m supposed to call him and give him your address.”

“Oh, I don’t live with my dad,” I said. “I mean, my dad doesn’t live here.”

I was glad I hadn’t told Bertie the “my dad got a new job” story. Like I said, ill aunts are easier to hide.

Bertie kept looking around the apartment, and it felt like she was suddenly seeing all the things that weren’t there, and not just my mom.

I saw her looking at my phone on the counter. I imagined her picking it up and calling her dad. “Hi, Dad,” she would say. “Yeah, everything’s not fine. Remember the new kid I told you about?…Can you come get me, please?”

Then I heard the door jiggle. My mom pushed it open with her shoulder. She had her hands full with a grocery bag.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “We were out of juice. And there was traffic.”

Most of the time, my mom says and does all the normal-mom stuff. It’s only once in a while that she gets real worried or tired and goes into her room for a long, long time.

I was glad that now was one of the normal times. She put the bag on the counter. “And this must be Bertie,” she said. I was glad she said that, too.

“Hi, Mrs. Austin’s Mom,” Bertie said. “Thanks for letting me come over. Oh yeah, can I call my dad?”

“Sure thing,” my mom said. She took her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and handed it to Bertie.