I am sitting behind Nora again.

“You told your mom about coming over?” I ask, and the hood nods.

The truth is about to come out. But not on the bus. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in helping to plan a party you’re not planning to come to,” I say after a while.

“Who said I wasn’t coming?”

Excuse me? “I don’t do birthday parties?!” I say, and stop myself from imitating her snoring.

“Oh, that was before,” she says.

At our house, my dad gives Nora another big greeting. And this time Rocky comes up with one, too. I stand back.

“Dad, did you notice anything unusual about Baltimore before you put it in the box?”

Rocky is sitting beside Dad and the two of them are looking at me innocently.

“He,” I say, pointing at Rocky, “ruined it.”

“I think he— Well, we paid for it. He must’ve had six bowls of water and gone out five times last night. Salt dough—nasty stuff!” My dad rubbed Rocky’s belly. “Bring the port home, we’ll restore it.”

“It’s in the dumpster.”

“Then I suggest you two make up and move on,” my dad says.

I take Rocky into the laundry room. We look each other in the eyes and I say “Never again” as we shake. Trouble with Rocky is, it’s always something, and it’s never the same thing twice.

When I go back into the kitchen, Nora and my dad are talking quietly.

“Listen, Champ, what do you think about having a haunted house for your slumber party? You’re turning ten, double digits, this could be the year.…” Nora gives it two thumbs-up.

It has a Halloween theme and extremely good potential to keep everyone up all night. “Just not too scary,” I say.

“Your dad is so different from mine,” Nora says.

“My dad is different. Period.” I hesitate. “Do you miss yours?”

“It’s easier not to,” she says, which I take to mean that she does.

“Um, speaking of easier not to … I have to tell you something.”

Nora puts Victory-Brownie on the table.

“He belongs to my sister,” I say.

“Yes! I knew it!” she says like it’s some big victory (with a small v). “I knew that wasn’t your room! Your dad said that thing about cleaning your room last week; then Robin wanted to see my horse on Saturday. But taking your sister’s horse seemed like something I would do … not you. Not perfect Kate Geller. I knew you weren’t telling the truth.”

I don’t say anything at first.

“Sorry. Mostly,” I eventually say. “The truth is, I gave you the horse because I wanted to make you feel better. I never said Robin’s room was mine. You thought it was. So you thought the horses were mine. And I never corrected you. It was easier not to. That’s the other truth.”

“It figures,” Nora says. “You’re even a nice liar.”

“Thanks?” While we’re making popcorn, I ask Nora how her New Hampshire report went.

“I hate giving reports in front of the whole class.”

“Brooke fell down during hers—”

Nora starts laughing. “How?”

“She and Colin were standing inside these big scroll-tubes unrolling the history of Boston and they both went down.”

Nora says, “I always laugh when people fall. Can’t help myself. And sometimes it’s not funny.”

We do our homework in comfortable, truthful silence until a little after five. “Girls, girls, I’m going to have to ask you to keep it down in here—a man can’t work with all the racket and goings-on!” My dad’s idea of a joke about silence.

“It’s time for me to take Ninotchka home.”

“Nora, please,” Nora says. “I haven’t been Ninotchka since I was four.” She puts her homework away and zips her backpack.

“I’ll be out in the garage coming up with a new nickname,” my dad says.

The horse is still sitting on the table.

“Victory?” I ask Nora. She moves it toward me.

“Thanks,” I say.

“No big deal,” Nora says. I put the horse in my backpack in case Robin gets home while we’re gone.