“Huh?” He was squinting out the window.

“A game. Where you come up with stories for people. And give them names.”

“I’m not very good at games,” he said.

She drew up her shoulders, puckered her lips. “Oh, okay,” she whispered.

Neither spoke. Amelia felt as if they were waiting for something. A few people hurried by outside. A striped cat crept down the sidewalk. A bird swooped dangerously close to the window.

And then Amelia saw her. Lindy Tussler—Feather—was walking past, looking determined, focused on something in the distance.

“I never liked that kid,” her father said. He stiffened.

“What?”

“Lindy. I was glad when she was out of your life. I thought she was a miserable soul.”

Amelia had never spoken a word to her father about Lindy Tussler and the end of their friendship. He never seemed curious about the details of her life. She never would have believed that he had an opinion about Lindy. He knows more than I give him credit for, she thought.

He leaned over and pushed the last bit of cookie toward her. “If I were playing your game, I’d call her Trouble.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. She looked up at her father. She burst out laughing.

He laughed, too.

Then they sat together quietly for a few more minutes before leaving. She felt something—the sounds of the coffee shop, the sunshine, the air—move in, settle, close gently around them.

35 • Needed

Amelia had wrapped the postcard in a napkin from the coffee shop and carefully put it in her jacket pocket for the walk home. She carried the envelope from Casey, switching it from hand to hand. She’d been clutching the envelope so tightly that it was wrinkled and warped by the time they got to their house.

She went right to her room and closed the door. She propped the postcard against the lamp on her nightstand. Then she sat on her bed and opened the envelope. There was a letter inside.

Dear Amelia,

Remember me?

Here’s the news from one day after you saw me: My parents are getting legally separated. But I get to live in our house all the time. They promised that I don’t have to move. They’ll take turns staying here. Maybe I can trick myself into thinking we’re still one big happy family. HA! But, at least, they’re not divorced yet.

Starting next week I’ll be coming to the clay studio on Saturdays. My aunt asked me. I can work (and get paid) or just make things (and smash them). HA!

How’s Epiphany? I already forgot her real name. Sorry. I was kind of overwhelmed when you told me.

Do you remember that heart I made? I have to tell you something about it.

Signing off . . .

Casey

Amelia wondered what Casey would say about the heart. She’d seen what he’d carved into it: C + A. And she had the piece with the A on it as proof. Would he tell her that the A stood for Amelia? Would he tell her he liked her? She’d have to wait until next week to find out.