“Good girl,” I say. She makes a contented sound as she snarfs down her food.

She finishes eating and walks in a circle, wiggling her tail. She reminds me of George when he’s making a soft spot to lie down on.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to come visit you,” I tell her. “We have to move.”

She walks in another circle, then stops to watch me.

“If we don’t move too far away, maybe I could still ride my bike here and come take care of you for the rest of the summer.”

She tilts her head one way, then the other, as if she understands. Then she turns and goes under her shelter and plops down for a nap.

At the bottom of my driveway, I hear Ivy and Micah on their bikes. I walk slowly, carefully stepping over the familiar cracks in the pavement. The old house looks sad in the fading summer light. It needs a paint job, and some of the shutters hang at a tilt. My parents aren’t on the steps anymore. I can see them through the kitchen window, putting something together for dinner. Probably spaghetti again.

“You left without telling us,” Micah says, parking his bike in my way. “We would have come to help.”

“You were having fun,” I say. “And I kind of needed some time alone.”

“Oh.”

We both turn and look at the house together.

“I can’t believe we won’t be living here anymore,” I say.

“I know.”

Ivy continues biking in circles in the driveway. “Rachel! My cooling hole turned into a mudhole! Look!” She lifts up a muddy foot as she glides toward me on her bike. “I fell in and Micah had to pull me out!” She speeds up again and goes over a jump.

“Do you think she gets what’s happening? She doesn’t seem very sad anymore.”

“Maybe she doesn’t feel like she has that much to lose. She’s younger than you. Different stuff makes her happy.”

“I guess. Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Nah, I should go home. Will you still go to Sierra’s next party? Do you want to go together again?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I think it will be hard to be around all those happy people. And Sierra’s fancy house. And . . . all the bikinis. I just don’t fit in. Especially now.”

“Maybe it would be good to be around friends who care about you.”

“Who really cares about me besides you?”

“Lots of people, if you’d pay attention. What about Cybil? Besides, a lot of people have problems, Rachel. Maybe other people are going through tough times, too. I mean, maybe not the same as what’s happening to you, but . . .”

“I know I’m not the only one with problems,” I say, feeling irritated.