Her T-shirt is filthy as usual. I bet her hair hasn’t been washed in ages. She looks a little nuts. But she also looks happy. I haven’t seen her look like that since I let her beat me at Monopoly.

I never thought I’d be glad to be sending Rainbow away, but I realize there couldn’t possibly be a better place for him to go. And he’ll have so much company — and wooden floors, just like Micah and I wished for back at the beginning of summer.

My dad appears in the open doorway. He looks happy, too. Relieved.

“Did you hear the great news?” he asks.

I nod.

My dad sees that I’ve been crying, but I’m glad he doesn’t ask why. I know my mom will take care of things.

“Let’s go do some packing,” I say to Ivy.

She follows me upstairs and runs to her room. In my own room, I lie down on my bed and look out the window at the Townsends’ house next door. I picture Rainbow there, getting special treats from the mini fridge and spending the nights with gentle Ben and Gil. It’s a better home than here. It’s a better life than we could ever give him.

But then I think of Lucy and her empty pen. I know it’s part of farm life, what Mr. Townsend did, but it still feels awful. I feel awful. Awful, and all mixed up.

Awful and sad.

More words I don’t think I’ve ever felt so deeply. I would really like to feel a positive word for a change.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Yesterday morning, after Ivy said good-bye, I brought Rainbow to his new home and did the morning chores. He took to Ben and Gil right away. I introduced him to all the animals, carefully avoiding Lucy’s area, and by the time I left him, he was right at home. He didn’t even seem to notice it was good-bye when I hugged him — he was so busy sniffing all the new smells and checking out all his new friends. He’s happy here, I told myself. And that made me happy, too, even though I was also sad. This is what bittersweet feels like, I thought as I walked away. But it felt more sweet for once.

Today is moving day, so I asked Mr. Townsend for the day off because there’s so much work to do. Micah and his dad come to help us pile all the furniture and boxes into a big moving truck. The house slowly empties out until there’s nothing left. As I walk through each room for the last time, my footsteps echo in the emptiness, reminding me that we really are leaving for good. It doesn’t even feel like our house anymore, all empty and sad looking, which makes it just a tiny bit easier to say good-bye.