It was when they were packing that day when she felt PERCEPTIVE. Sometimes these things she saw were bright and clear, and sometimes they were just feelings that she got for no reason. She would get sad, and then something would happen, like the time when her friend Katie’s hamster got lost, and Jessie was sad because it had gotten killed. She told Katie and Katie had screamed at her NO HE’S NOT DEAD HE RAN AWAY and then the next day her mom found it all the way downstairs, and it had been crushed by the leg of a chair.

But today she just felt nervous. It was like when she had to go to the doctor’s or the dentist’s office for a checkup, but then when it was over the doctor would give her a balloon and she would feel better. Today she felt like there weren’t any balloons. Daddy and Mommy were nervous too, but it was the good kind of nervous, when you were happy and excited, and talked real fast and were ready to “get the show on the road.”

When she told her mommy how she felt, she smiled and kissed Jessie on the top of the head like she did when she said good night. “It’s all right, sweetheart. You’ll meet new friends, and everything will be okay. Maybe we’ll even get a puppy. Would you like that?” Jessie had just smiled at her and nodded her head. Sometimes it was better to keep things to yourself, if people didn’t understand. That was something she had learned from experience, even though she was only four years old and hardly big enough to tie her own shoes.

They packed all day, putting the cups and plates from the kitchen in big brown boxes and their clothes in heavy suitcases. Jessie helped as much as she could, but sometimes she just got in the way, and after Daddy almost tripped over her while he carried one of the heavy boxes out to the car, she decided to play somewhere else. She didn’t like helping to pack anyway; it meant they were leaving, and she didn’t want to leave. She liked this house and especially its little dusty attic, with the Jessica-sized windows looking out to the neighbor’s porch on one side and the driveway on the other. Mommy let her play up there on special days, when it was rainy and she couldn’t go outside. She kept her most favorite toys among the boxes in one corner, the little yellow school bus with the red-faced driver in the funny hat and the people who could move from seat to seat, and the set of plates and cups for her dolls. All except Johnny Bear, but he wasn’t a toy, he was her friend. He slept right next to her in her bed every night.