Me and the boys next door, me and them, them and I, the three of us. We were an inseparable force when I was young. But age and experience changes everything.

When I was four we moved from the big city to a small town. Our apartment was tiny, cramped and my world. Books lined the halls, stacked higher than me, overflowing off my father's tiny desk spilling onto the floor, creeping into every space. I loved our elevator and the park across the road where I would play with all sorts of friends from different buildings and backgrounds. Languages were rich and varied, but we all spoke the language of running and swinging and climbing. There may have been differences but we were unaware—we just argued over who was king of the castle.

"We are moving, Gracie" proclaims my mother, chirping with happiness. "Daddy is a doctor now and he has a new job."

There was a party for Daddy at a local restaurant crowded and loud. I couldn't figure out how Daddy could be a doctor; he couldn't help sick people, he stayed far away from me whenever I had the flu. Of course later I would realize a ph.d in comparative literature isn't quite the same kind of doctor as the ones in the coats on tv.

"Can I get a pony, Mommy? Will we have room for a pony? Are there farms near us? Will there be 'partments like the city, and a playground?"

"Gracie, stop being a squirmy-wormy and leave your mommy alone, she's trying to drive," Daddy turns from his book in the front seat next to Mommy. "Behave." Then he faces front again.

I am so excited. We are going from our 'partment in the big city to our new house in the country. We are going to have a whole new house, with a yard and two floors and Daddy can have a room just for his desk and books. Mommy says we are going to have a yard which makes sense because we are the Yardleys, so a pony is a great idea, I think.

The road is busy and we are pulling everything in trailer behind our car except for the van behind us that Uncle Paul is driving that has the rest of our stuff. Mommy says we'll have to get more furniture too, because our house is going to be bigger than our 'partment and we have it all to ourselves. I won't be able to here the Shamdaris next door or the Shwartzs upstairs. Upstairs will be my room and Mommy and Daddy's room and a spare room besides. I am getting tired of waiting and it's hot in the car and we aren't driving fast enough...

"What's that smell?" I wipe my sticky hand against my heavy eyes as everything flickers into focus. Outside is different. There are no tall buildings, and there's grass everywhere, and the roads aren't busy and there's a funny smell. I turn behind to look out the back window, and Uncle Paul is still there with the van, going along behind our trailer, so at least we didn't lose my things.

"That's manure," Mommy answers snappishly. My brow furrows over the unfamiliar word.

"Animal poop, Sleepyhead," Daddy explains to me. And I'm not sure I like the new house anymore.

The poop smell doesn't go away and we stop outside a yellow brick house that looks like a yucky mustard. There are lots of yucky mustard houses and some red brick ones besides on the street, and a forest up ahead. The house, our new home, has a red door and white trim that Mommy says is ginger breading, and a big tree on our front lawn and a porch with a swing. It's raining and we have our very own driveway, but no underground parking like at our building and I get wet walking to the front door and I hate getting wet. So I walk into our stupid mustard yellow house with a ketchup door with rain dripping off me and tears rolling down my eyes.

"What's wrong, Buttercup?" Daddy asks, noticing my unhappiness.

"Where's the park and buildings and people and why does it smell?" I whine.

Mommy brushes by me, carrying boxes and not happy that I'm misbehaving. Daddy pulls me into the living room and kneels down beside me. "We live in a neighbourhood now, suburbs, in a house, so there doesn't have to be any big buildings, and there's a park a few blocks away by your new school. The smell is from the farms nearby as they get their fields ready to grow food for us to eat. Now run upstairs and see the surprise waiting in the backyard. You can see it from the bedroom in the back, that one is yours."

I follow Daddy's directions and find my room. It's a soft orangey pink sunset colour with a large tree outside the window. There's a bench seat under the window build right in, and I climb up to look outside. Through the branches and budding leaves I see my surprise, my present. There they are, just for me, two playmates wearing raincoats and boots, jumping in puddles and climbing on a little playground right in my yard! Not better than a pony, but really exciting, anyway. The bright sun breaks through the clouds, the rain slows to a sprinkle and I run back down to Daddy.

"Can I go out? Please, please, please, Daddy?" I jump around him, as he struggles to hold on to the box he's carrying.

"Sure, Sweetiepie, just don't get too mucky. Use the backdoor through there." He gestures towards the kitchen with a nod of his head.

In our 'partment our kitchen was a cramped narrow hallway with everything smooshed in between the hall and the dining area. This kitchen has it's own whole room and space to eat besides. It's amazing having all this room. I spin around on our slippy floor in my shoes, arms outstretched. Mommy comes in with some pots and she isn't happy that I am dancing around. "Out of the way, Gracie!" she snap.

Our new house also has two doors to go in or out, and the backdoor is on the other side of the kitchen, down one step to a wide landing with coat hooks attached to the wall like my old school. Directly across from the door is a steep dark stairway that goes down somewhere scary looking. Yanking hard, I open the door and run outside in the clean sunshine and muddy, grassy yard.

Two identical faces, or almost identical, turn to greet me. "We're Ian and Chris and we're 5. Angie and Kevin used to live here, but they left," one of the boys tells me. They have chestnut brown hair and deep brown eyes, like pools of dark chocolate, and are a little taller than me.

"They don't live here now, we do," I assert. "I'm Grace and I'm four, but I'll be five soon. We used to live in the city with an 'partment but now we are here and Daddy said I had a present in the backyard and here you are," I explain, very pleased.

"We aren't your present!" They laugh at me. "We're your neighbours. We live over the fence, see," one of them points, "there's a ladder and everything." Sure enough, built into the fence at the side, there's a ladder between the two yards. "Your yard has the climber and swing-set, ours has a pool and a treehouse. We share. We also have an older sister named Maggie. She's twelve."

I take a minute to process all this information, then I ask, "Okay, which one's which?"

"I'm Ian," says the one with swagger, he's the one who has been doing most of the talking. He has an almond shaped birthmark on his ear on one side. "And he's Chris." Chris gives me a gap-tooth smile from where he's lost his front teeth, and I notice that his smile isn't quite the same as Ian's.

"Do you want to play grounders?" I ask, and a friendship is formed.

The twins were still a gift as far as I was concerned and the best present I ever got. All summer we were inseparable and I did things I could never have done in the apartment. I could always go out to play with them without having to wait for my mom or dad, or cross the road, or even leave our yards. Although we did leave the yards sometimes on secret missions of the twins' design. We climbed trees, explored the woods behind our houses, and the farm in the fields beyond even though the large cows kind of frightened me.

The surprise of a new little girl moving in was a bit of a disappointment at first. She had golden blonde ringlets with laughing blue-green eyes and looked almost like the drawing of an angel on a greeting card, all round faced and chubby with some baby fat still. Thankfully she didn't behave like an angel. Grace was willing to do whatever we put her up to. If we played army, she'd crawl in the mud with us, invading enemy strongholds. We would build elaborate forts in the forest and she had no trouble with the bugs and spiders that we dislodged. By the end of the summer, my brother and I would go to the ends of the earth for her. She thought we were her present, but really she's a gift and always has been, even if we didn't always realize it.

My fifth birthday party is small, but the best ever. "I'm having a party and you and Ian are the guests of honour," I proudly tell Chris.

"We aren't the guests of honour—you are—if it's your birthday party, silly." Ian butts-in from where he is hanging upside-down by his knees.

"Oh," I guess that makes sense, "but you're coming right?" I ask, hopeful. I am so excited because it's my first party.

"Of course we are, Gracie," Chris gives me a hug and Ian pretends to throw-up, but I know he's excited, too.

Mommy and Daddy take Ian, Chris, and I to the McDonalds with a play place and we have happy meals and ice cream sundaes. I get presents, too. Mommy and Daddy give me some clothes for school and a bunch of ponies, and the boys give me a pirate sword, eye patch and treasure chest. It's super-fantastic because right now my climber is a pirate ship. We have a flag and everything. The twins' dad, Mr. Reed made it for us. I give them both hugs then we play tag on the play place forever until Mommy says we have to leave. I don't want to go, we're having so much fun, but she drags me screaming out of the restaurant while the twins walk nicely with Daddy and laugh about my bad behaviour.

"You are being a very naughty girl in front of your guests, Grace. Is this the way Mommy and Daddy have taught you to act?" Mommy pulls on my arm and it hurts. Looking behind me, I see Ian watching, and he gives me a wink, so I scowl back.

"Carla, go easy on her, she's just tired and overexcited," Daddy tells Mommy. I know Mommy doesn't like Daddy's interference, so she pulls a bit harder, pinching me, but I don't say anything, I know better.

I try to calm down, but in the end I throw up in the car on the way home, I even get a bit on Chris. Mommy was already mad and now I've made her even more angry. She hates it when I get sick.

"Awesome!" declares Ian, while Chris reaches across and holds my hand, trying to make me feel better.

When we pull in the driveway, the twins burst from the car like balls of energy, and I try to climb out carefully, so that I don't spread sick all over the car.

"Can we spray her with the hose?" Ian asks, jumping up and down.

"Definitely not," Mommy says tight lipped. "Matt will take Grace upstairs to her room to get her cleaned off, and I will take you both home."

"See you tomorrow, Gracie, and happy birthday!" Chris yells over his shoulder as he and Ian run to their yard. Mommy watches with her hands on her hips, clicking her tongue disapprovingly.

The next day we decide to go to the park next to the school. It's right near the end of summer and Mommy lets us walk together because in another few days the twins and I will be walking to school together, anyway. I'm starting senior kindergarten and they're starting grade one.

"Race you!" Ian yells as he tears off down the street. Chris quickly follows.

"No fair, we have to stay together," I yell, chasing after them, feet pounding on the pavement. They round the corner and beat me to the wood chips, already climbing on the monkey bars. There are a few bigger kids there that I don't know and the twins clearly do. We start a game of grounders and I hold my own for awhile, until I need to pee.

"Ian, Chris, we need to go home," I announce. My legs are crossed and it hurts I need to pee so badly.

"We want to play still," Ian says, without looking. I don't want my friends to be mad, so I go and sit in the sandbox and try to hold it, but it's not working. After a few more minutes, I can't keep the pee in, I can't hold it anymore. The heat is surprising as it soaks through my underwear and shorts, pooling then draining through the sand. I'm a big girl, I'm five, I shouldn't pee my pants, Mommy is going to be furious and I know I'm in trouble. Big fat tears stream down my face as I sit in my mess, starting to shiver. The wet ground beneath me chills quickly, so now I'm cold and wet and scared.

"What's with the crybaby?" one of the boys asks, pointing in my direction. I try to hide under my arms, but it doesn't work.

Chris looks over to me, "Gracie, what's wrong?" He comes closer, nose wrinkling as he discovers the problem. "Ian, we need to go home now."

"Aww, why?" Ian isn't happy, making me cry harder.

"I think the crybaby peed her pants," sneers someone else.

"She isn't a crybaby!" Ian comes to my defence, pushing him over. They roll in the wood chips punching and hitting while Chris helps me up. Wet smelly sand clings to my shorts and the back of my legs, some falling off in clumps when I stand.

A few minutes later we all walk home together, arms linked together. Ian has a fat lip and is bleeding, but feels victorious. "No one picks on Grace," he makes ninja kicks while he pulls us along.

By the time we get back to my house, I am terrified. I know Mommy will be terribly angry and probably won't let me walk to school with the twins and that's something I really want.

"What am I going to do? Mommy's going to be really mad." I start to shake, and Chris holds my hand tighter.

"I can fix this," Ian states after thinking a minute, "Chris, take her around the side of the house. I need Maggie."

A few minutes later, Maggie comes out, gives us a look then turns on the hose and goes back in. Ian slips back out in his rubber boots and raincoat. "Back away from Grace," he tells Chris as he picks up the nozzle.

"I don't want to get wet," I whine. I hate getting wet.

"You're already wet. At least this way you can tell your mom I did it. She won't know you peed your pants and you won't get in trouble," Ian explains. "I promise it won't hurt and I won't spray your face, 'kay?"

"Okay," I reluctantly agree. Ian is my hero, saving me from the wrath of Mommy and from the big boys, too.

It is the first time Ian saves me, but isn't the last. My mom was angry about me being wet, but not at me. She never found out that I peed my pants, instead, she was furious at Ian, the first in a series of incidents that lead her to prefer Chris, if she had to pick, not that she liked either boy very much. That year Mommy insisted on walking to and from school with the three of us, rather than letting us go ourselves, not trusting Ian to behave. Her displeasure was often felt while giving us lectures about our behaviour during our walks. The best days were when Daddy walked us, taking time away from work, and we could play all the way home.

Grace's mom was always so tough on her, and not very rational. Her own problems often manifesting as anger towards Grace. It was obvious that Grace was scared of her mother and that wasn't right. Sometimes we would see Grace flinch in pain when her mom pulled her in the house, so we always did whatever we could to keep her mom from getting angry with her, even if it meant Mrs. Yardley didn't like us.