When I get home I am disappointed because, as expected, the twins have already gone. It's like my mother is conspiring to get me away from them by showing up so late, although I'm pretty sure she and Daddy had a fight this morning. There are a few pieces of broken plates in the garbage can in the kitchen and the energy in the house feels wrong. Outside our yard is forlorn, the porch swing empty, and missing the energy that flows when the twins and I are together. The smell of horses and campfire clings to my clothes and is far more obvious now that I am standing in our empty house.

"Grace, take your things to the laundry, then go have a bath," Mommy orders. "Didn't they make you bathe at that camp? You smell." Everything sounds bitter coming from her mouth, filling with sourness from the lifeless house.

It's funny to me that she actually notices, since it's usually something she doesn't. "Yes, Mommy."

"Don't just stand there staring out the window, get moving," she snaps. "I'm going to lay down."

"Sorry, Mommy." I quickly respond to her orders, starting a load of laundry. Famished, I scour the cupboards for something to eat, settling on a box of cornflakes because there's nothing else. There's no milk, so I have them with water.

Daddy finally comes home to see me when it's close to bed time. I've been tiptoeing around Mommy since my bath because she's not feeling well. For dinner I made myself bread and butter then sat in front of the television watching cartoons while she sleeps on the couch. When his car pulls in the driveway, the long lines of brightness from the headlights illuminate the darkened room through the wavy glass windows. I resist the urge to jump up and greet him at the door, knowing that Mommy wouldn't like it.

"How's my favourite girl?" All the space in the room is full of energy and warmth as he scoops me up into a hug.

"Hi Daddy!" I clasp my arms around his neck, happy for this contact.

"Sorry I'm late," he says over my shoulder to where Mommy's scowling on the couch, "couldn't be helped."

"Yes, I know, all those literature emergencies in the English department on a Saturday, totally unavoidable." Acid drips from her tongue, the moment shattered. I can feel Daddy's grip change as the words burn into us.

"I have a present for you both," I exclaim, remembering the clay trivet I made. I so badly want things to be nice, for Daddy not to leave again.

"Sure thing Cupcake, let's see it!" Daddy's joviality is forced this time, but I run to comply, eager to please, hoping to change the mood.

"Don't run on the stairs," Mommy admonishes as I stomp up to my room.

When I come back down, I hand the newspaper wrapped square to Daddy so he can open it.

"Wow, Gracie, this is fantastic." He examines the porcelain square.

"I had to pound it, and roll it, and cut it out, then I had to let it dry so it could be fired and then I painted it with special paint!" I drew a picture of our house and wrote in careful letters underneath, 'The Yardleys.'

"What do you think, Carla?" He holds it to show her.

"Great," she says with little enthusiasm. "What is it?"

"One of those things for hot pots, you know to put them on the table," I explain.

"Nice. Time for bed now, please," her voice lifeless.

"But Mommy, Daddy just got home."

Her head whips in my direction, anger welling up in her, "Yes, and you were lucky enough to see him before bed, but now you're going. No arguments."

"Come on, Sweetpea, I'll tuck you in," Daddy takes my hand and we go upstairs, leaving Mommy stewing on the sofa.

The next morning, I run down the stairs and out the back, leaving my parents' hushed arguments behind me. I am on a mission. Ian promised me a present starting at the treehouse, and they had two weeks to plan it, so I hope they didn't forget about me. Bounding up the wooden rungs, I peek onto the platform of the treehouse. Inside, there are drawings taped up to the walls and a treasure map.

It takes me three days to do all the challenges they left for me, from the starting point at the treehouse, I have to go all over our two yards, the woods, and even as far as the school yard. It is the best present ever and I linger over the last few items trying to make it stretch longer, knowing that I'll still have a long boring wait for them to get home. The very last stop is my meadow in the woods with the old rock wall foundation.

"'Best friends are special and you're the best, here's the end of your test. Hiding somewhere in the wall, is the best gift of them all.'" I read from the map. This wall is big. In some places it's as high as my waist, in others it has toppled down almost completely, but it runs almost twenty feet in one direction, then turns a corner and goes for another three or four feet. It's early in the day, really, no later than noon when I start scouring the wall, looking in cracks and cervices, methodically covering a tiny bit at a time. Finally when the sun has moved from overhead to just touching the treetops, I spot it. A rock that has been shifted out of its spot, sticking out at an odd angle about three quarters of the way down the wall. Slipping it out, there's a small fuzzy box in behind. Cracking open the lid, there's a gold necklace with a charm on it that says, "Best Friends" in golden script and I love it. It takes me three tries to get it on, but it sits just below the nape of my neck and I can see the light reflecting off the shiny letters.

Daddy is not home for dinner, but Mommy is in a good mood again, dreamy-eyed for some reason.

"How did you and Daddy meet?" I ask, it's something I've been thinking about a lot lately, especially since Steve has been at the Reed's house all the time the twins have been away. Maggie doesn't seem to mind, though because that means Mrs. Reed's attention is focused somewhere else, she told me when we went for a swim earlier.

"We met at university," Mommy says with a smile.

"Were you in the same classes?"

"Kind of, he was the TA in my class."

"What's a TA?"

"It's a teaching assistant. When professors teach classes, the graduate students help out by doing marking and answering student's questions for them."

"So Daddy was kind of like your teacher?"

"Kind of. I went to his office to ask questions about an essay I was writing and we hit it off. After a few weeks we started dating. By the time I was finishing my degree, you were on the way."

"Is that why you didn't do grad school, too?"

"Partly, but babies are expensive and time consuming. Only one of us could be in school if we wanted to have a roof over our heads, and Daddy had just started his Ph.D."

"Oh. Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"School?"

"I don't know, Grace," her smile falters.

I worry that I've asked too much, so I quickly say, "I love you, Mommy," and give her a hug right around her middle. She winces and pulls away a little.

"I love you, too, Gracie."

Finally, a day before my birthday, the twins are set to return from their camping trip. Maggie and I went swimming a few times together a few times while they were away, but mostly I've been on my own and I am desperate to see my friends and show off the necklace they got me. I've probably asked Mrs. Reed four times today if she knows when they are coming, and I know I am wearing on her nerves. After running in my house twice to check the time, Mommy tells me if I come in once more I have to stay in, so now I am jumping rope in the driveway, trying my hardest to be patient, waiting for their Daddy to drop them off. After what seems like forever and ever, I see his car coming down the street, so I toss my rope to the side and run to greet them in breathless anticipation. There is a strange woman in the passenger seat, but she gives me a big smile and a wave. I notice Ian scowling from the back seat, and it gets even worse when Steve and Mrs. Reed step outside their house, responding to my yells.

"Hi Mr. Reed! Hi Ian! Hi Chris!" I am dancing around the car. My hair has grown back mostly, but my ringlets are gone, instead I have two bouncing ponytails.

"Hi Grace, you're looking happy." Mr. Reed gets out of the car and opens the door for Chris, who climbs right out and gives me a hug.

The woman in the passenger seat gets out and opens the door for Ian. His glower is huge and he's not moving, so I climb into the car with him. "I missed you," and I give him a big hug.

He hugs me back, "I missed you, too," he says, then pushes me aside and runs away around the back. I watch him leave, puzzled.

"Hi, I'm Missy," the strange woman says, Mr. Reed's girlfriend. "And I know you're Grace, I've heard all about you."

"Nice to meet you," I say as politely as I can, and I shake her hand.

"You're just too cute, no wonder the boys love you so much," she cracks her gum and I grin from ear to ear.

I help Mr. Reed by taking Ian's bag in while Chris carries his own. We dump them right by the washing machine, then go back into the living room. All the adults are being really polite and friendly, even though that's not really the way everything in the room feels. It seems kind of strained, more like my house than here. Mrs. Reed and Steve hold hands, while Missy and Mr. Reed sip drinks.

"I think we need to go find Ian," I say to Chris and he agrees. We both know he's in the treehouse. And we can hear him as we walk towards the tall tree.

"Ian, what's wrong?" he's kicking the wall and screaming.

"Missy and Steve, that's whats wrong. I wanted time with Daddy, but he had to bring her on the trip, and just when we're coming home and I think everything will be the same, Steve is there waiting with Mommy, like he's happy to see us."

"I do think he's happy to see you," I say confused. "He said he missed you both when I saw him."

"How often did you see him?" his eyes narrow and I realize there is no good way to tell him the truth. I step forward and take his hand, trying to soothe him. I can feel the anger rolling off him in waves. "He stayed here, didn't he?" Ian asks accusingly, like it's my fault, furious tears streaming down his face.

I can't lie to him, so I slowly nod, gauging his reaction. Ian wrenches his hands from mine and pushes me down. "Take it back!" he screams. "Take it back, you're lying." Ian kicks me and I curl up into a ball while Chris watches in horror.

"Ian! Stop! Grace!" Chris's yells seem to shatter Ian's rage.

"Oh, my God, Gracie, I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry," he falls to the floor next to me and begins sobbing. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I promise I'll never do that again."

"It's okay, Ian, I know you aren't mad at me," and I hold him while he cries.

"Missy's actually really nice. She and Daddy are living together now," Chris informs me quietly. "She came camping with us, and that's when they told us. But Daddy told Ian he had to be nice or else he wouldn't let us come over anymore."

"That doesn't sound very fair," I reply, but now I understand why Ian is so angry. For Mr. Reed to say he wasn't welcome if he wasn't nice to Missy is like him choosing his girlfriend over his son and it's not a nice thing for a parent to do. Especially since those types of ultimatums don't work well with Ian.

"Yeah, but they're the adults. When do they ever do what we want?" Chris thoughtfully states. He climbs down and leaves me with Ian.

"Ian, I love my necklace. I know you picked it," I really want to make him feel better, and changing the conversation seems like a good idea. I rub Ian's back until his breathing starts to go back to normal.

"I knew you'd like it," he wipes his streaked face on his shirt.

He and I draw pictures in companionable silence for awhile, I know it's what he needs.