I USED TO WATCH reruns after school of an old seventies sitcom called The Brady Bunch. It was about a blended family. The mom had three girls and the dad had three boys, and they had a cheerful housekeeper named Alice. Sure, they had their ups and downs, but overall, practically from the very beginning, everyone got along.

After the whole screaming episode at dinner, I have had to admit that things might not go as smoothly for me and Ashley as they did for Marcia and Greg and Jan and Peter and Cindy and Bobby.

As we cleared the dishes, Caroline kept apologizing. “It’s a tough transition for everyone, I know,” she said. “And Ashley—well, she’s a lot like me when I was her age. I love her dearly, but she’s a bit of a drama queen.”

“You were a drama queen?” Dad asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

Caroline laughed. “Oh, boy, was I ever. My poor parents. I was an angel—until my twelfth birthday. Then I turned into a demon seed for about five years.”

“Well”—Dad smiled—“I’m glad I didn’t meet you then.”

I did a quick calculation. Ashley was fourteen, so if she followed in her mom’s footsteps, she had a good three years of demon seed left.

My heart sank.

I think Dad could guess what was going on in my head because he suggested we take a walk, just the two of us. We went for walks all the time on the North Shore, and I was happy to do something familiar.

It was raining, typical for October, but it was light enough that we didn’t need an umbrella. We walked east toward Main on the tree-lined street, past a mix of old and modern homes. I could see people through some of the lit-up windows, other families living their lives.

“I guess it’s unrealistic for us to expect Ashley to be happy that we’ve moved in right off the bat,” Dad said to me as we walked along in the almost-dark. “She’s had a lot of upheaval in her life.”

The sucky part of me wanted to say, She’s had upheaval? She didn’t have to change houses, and bedrooms, and neighborhoods! And sure, her parents are divorced, but at least they are both still ALIVE!

Instead, I nodded and said, “I understand, Dad. Time heals all wounds….”

“And time wounds all heels,” we said in unison. Then we laughed quite a bit, even though we’ve said this to each other a thousand times. Some jokes really never do get old.

“I guess we’re just going to have to give her time to get used to this, and to us,” Dad said.

“It’ll happen,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

“Of course it will. Who couldn’t like us?” He took my hand in the dark and gripped it hard, and even though I am thirteen, I gripped his hand right back.

—

WHEN WE GOT BACK to the house, Caroline gave me an enormous bowl of cookie dough ice cream, and the three of us watched Iron Chef together in the family room. I sat in Mom’s chair, and Dad squeezed in with me and ruffled my hair a lot. Caroline sat on the couch, her head resting against the afghan. Like clockwork, Dad and I peeled our socks off and tossed them on the coffee table.

“So,” Caroline said during a commercial, “that chair. It’s big. And this blanket is very…colorful.” She was fingering the strands of yellow, orange, blue, and red wool.

“It is, isn’t it? Mom loved bright things,” I replied.

When Iron Chef was done, I went up to my new room. There was still a lot to unpack, but we’d managed to set up my bed and hang up my photos and my posters. Bill Nye the Science Guy smiled down at me over my desk. The solar system was by the door. My favorite poster had pride of place over my bed. Mom had given it to me three years before; it was a cartoon drawing of a human heart, and the heart was saying, “Aorta tell you I think you’re awesome.”

I let Schrödinger out of the bathroom. I could tell he was feeling a little freaked out by all the newness, just like I was. I pulled him onto my lap and petted his gray-and-white fur, and soon he started to purr.

When I saw Schrödinger at the shelter, it was love at first sight. His face had a pushed-in look and a chunk of one of his ears was missing. No one knows what happened; he’d been found under a porch with his siblings when he was just two weeks old, and the ear was already gone. He was the runt of the litter, half the size of his brothers and sisters, and very shy, so, animal-behaviorally speaking, it is quite possible that one of his siblings bit off his ear.

Maybe because he looked as vulnerable as I felt, I knew he was the kitten for me. He is a purr machine, and he thinks I’m the greatest person in the whole wide world. My best friend, Alistair, says that’s only because I feed him, but I know it goes deeper than that.

“Tomorrow I can let you check out the rest of the house,” I told him. “But first you need to get used to this room.” I nuzzled my face in his fur. “I need to get used to it, too,” I added in a whisper.

I got into my pajamas and crawled into bed, pulling the other afghan on top of me. Schrödinger lay down right by my head, just like he’d done at home.

I mean, the place where I used to live until today.

“This is home now, Schrödinger,” I said to him. “We’ll love it here, too.” Then I repeated it, as if it would help make it true. “We’ll love it here, too.”