The fog in my head started to clear.

I kept bringing Jacob his homework, upping it to three days a week. Alonzo and Koula often came with me. The first time Koula saw Jacob she punched him in the arm, but he just grabbed her with his real hand and gave her a noogie with his bionic one.

I was nice when I saw him.

But I still kept my distance.

Jacob returned to school in May. Things went okay. Word hadn’t spread. I thought that was a small miracle, and said so his first time back at YART.

“Why’s that surprising?” asked Koula. “We’re practically the only ones who know.”

“Yes, but you in particular are not known for your discretion.”

“Shut your piehole,” she said. Betty indicated the Jar. Koula dropped in a quarter, then she placed something else on the table. “It’s my two-month chip.”

“Wow,” said Alonzo. “That’s twice as long as you’ve ever made it before.”

“I detect a hint of sarcasm in your tone, and I am choosing to ignore it.”

Alonzo wrapped her in a hug. “No sarcasm. Seriously. You should be proud.”

“Yes, you should,” said Betty. “Congratulations.”

Koula turned to Jacob. “And also, I sent my mom the video we made. I didn’t hear anything at first, but two days ago she phoned me. We met at a coffee shop yesterday after school. Neutral territory. And we only shouted a little bit. Mostly we just talked.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” said Jacob.

“Yeah. That’s fantastic,” said Alonzo. But he sounded a bit glum. He hadn’t heard a word from his family. Not a peep.

Jacob turned to Ivan, who’d been sullen and quiet so far. “How’ve you been doing?”

Ivan wouldn’t look him in the eye. He just shrugged.

“I’ve really missed you,” Jacob said.

Ivan didn’t answer.

“I have tickets to a Whitecaps game next weekend. I was hoping we could go together.”

Ivan couldn’t help himself. “Good seats?”

“Great seats.”

Ivan cracked a smile.

Betty cleared her throat. “I also have some good news to share. I passed my course. I’ll be moving on to a temporary position with elementary-age children next September.”

We congratulated her. After Betty went into her office, Koula emptied the mason jar that she’d almost single-handedly filled with quarters. The following Friday we brought in a cake, party hats, and noisemakers to celebrate.

We even put socks on our hands. Our puppets belted out “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”

—

Dad’s impending move had put the three of us into a spring-cleaning frenzy. The weekend before he was scheduled to leave, I did a massive cleanup of my room. I filled one bag with garbage and another bag with old scarves, hats, socks, and mittens I’d knit over the years. They would go to a homeless shelter in our neighborhood. I cleared out the clutter from under my bed. Including my scrapbook.

I flipped through it.

I put it in the garbage bag.

I took it out of the garbage bag.

I left it beside the garbage bag.

Lastly, I went through my books. I packed up a couple of boxes to donate to a school and reorganized the rest.

That’s how I found, tucked at the back of one of the shelves, Maxine’s copy of Where the Wild Things Are.

It was a worn, much-loved hardcover. I opened it up. To Maxine Ella, our own little wild thing: May your life be full of adventure and joy. With love from Mommy and Daddy and big sister Petula.

I sat on my bedroom floor and had a good cry.

Then I put the book back on the shelf. Not hidden in the back. But not too prominent, either.

Just there, always.