Proudly, Amelia walked back into the dining room, carrying what she had to admit was a work of art.

31 • Nonsense and Sorrow

Everyone loved the cake.

Everyone said so.

Everyone had seconds.

“It really is beautiful, you two. Look at this,” said Hannah, pointing with her fork to a yellow flower on her piece of cake.

“That was Amelia’s doing,” said Mrs. O’Brien. “She knew exactly where to place the flowers. She has the touch, a true knack.”

“She’s an artist,” said her father. “She’s a real artist.” He smiled a little, looking pleased.

Amelia felt a swooshing in her stomach. It was a good feeling. She’d never heard him say this before. Who cared that he was talking about flowers made of frosting?

“Your animals are lovely, too,” said Hannah. She tipped her head, indicating the grouping of Amelia’s sculptures on the sideboard. “Your dad says you’ve been working with clay for a long time.”

“Since she was a baby,” said Mrs. O’Brien.

“Do you like to draw or paint?” asked Hannah.

“Drawing is okay,” said Amelia. “Painting, too. But doing ceramics is what I like best.”

“Well, you’re very good at it,” said Hannah.

It was almost too much to take in. Too good to be true. This dinner was not a flight of Amelia’s imagination; it was real life.

Carried away by her happiness, like a twig in a stream, Amelia told them about the possibility of a show at the clay studio.

“I’d have the whole front window,” said Amelia, her voice brimming with excitement. “Just me.” She told them about making her rabbits—a lot of them. “I already made a bunch. I’ll glaze them all the same way. I’m trying to make them all look identical,” she told them, talking faster. “Louise said that a lot of something is beautiful.” She sat back and took a breath.

“I disagree,” said her father.

“What?” said Amelia, confused.

“I disagree,” he repeated. “Just because there’s a lot of something doesn’t make it beautiful.”

Everyone was silent for a few long seconds.

Amelia frowned.

“A lot of nonsense?” her father said. “A lot of sorrow? That doesn’t sound so beautiful to me.”

Amelia’s heartbeat quickened. Her happiness was thinning to threads. She didn’t know what to do or say. But she felt a snarl of fury inside her and she thought she might cry. Abruptly, she pushed herself away from the table. “Two things you know a lot about,” said Amelia as she fled. “Nonsense and sorrow.”

“Amelia, come back,” her father called. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

She went to her room and closed the door. “Thanks, Dad,” she said to no one. “Thanks for ruining my life.”

32 • Just Right

While Amelia lay on her bed crying quietly, she heard voices in the hallway. She heard her father. She heard Mrs. O’Brien. She heard Hannah.