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you forever."

She made sense, and I knew it.

Dad set his glass down. "You have to learn to adapt to changing circumstances,
and you have to become more independent. Those are the most important skills
your mother and I can teach you. You can't always stay our little girl, Bianca,
no matter how much we might want you to. This is the best way for us to prepare
you for the person you're going to become."

"Stop pretending that this is all about growing up," I said.
"It's not, and you know it. This is about what you guys want for me, and
you're determined to get your way whether I like it or not."

I stood up and walked away from the table. Instead of slinking back to my room
for my sweatshirt, I just grabbed Mom's cardigan from the coat rack and pulled
it on over my clothes. Even in early fall, the school grounds were cool after
dark.

Mom and Dad didn't ask where I was going. It was an old house rule: Anybody on
the verge of getting angry had to take a quick walk, a break from the
discussion, then come back and say what they really mean. No matter how upset
we were, that walk always helped.

As a matter of fact, I created that rule. Made it up when I was nine. So I didn't
think my maturity was really the issue.

My uneasiness in the world—the sure, complete belief that I didn't really have
a place in it—that wasn't about being a teenager. It was a part of me, and it
always had been. Maybe it always would be.

While I walked across the grounds, I cast a glance around, wondering if I might
see Lucas in the forest again. It was a stupid idea—why would he spend all his
time outside?—but I felt lonely, so I had to look. He wasn't there. Looming
behind me, Evernight Academy looked more like a castle than a boarding school.
You could imagine princesses locked in cells, princes fighting dragons in the
shadows, and evil witches guarding the doors with enchantments. I'd never had
less use for fairy tales.

The wind changed directions and brought a flicker of sound—laughter toward the
west, in the direction of the gazebo in the west yard. No doubt those were the
"picnickers." I gathered the cardigan more tightly around me and
walked into the woods—not east toward the road, the way I'd run that morning,
but instead toward the small lake that lay to the north.

It was too late and too dark to see much, but I liked the wind rustling through
the trees, the cool scent of pines, and the owl hooting not so far away.
Breathing in and out, I stopped thinking about the picnickers or Evernight or
anything else. I could just get lost in the moment.

Then nearby footsteps startled me— Lucas, I thought—but it was Dad, his
hands in his pockets, strolling toward the same path I stood on. Of course he
could find me. "That owl is close. You'd think we would scare him
off."

"Probably he smells food. He won't leave if there's a chance of a
meal."

As if to prove my point, a heavy, swift flapping of wings shook the branches
overhead, and then the owl's dark shape darted to the ground. Terrible
squealing revealed that a small mouse or squirrel had just become dinner. The
owl swooped away too quickly for us to see. Dad and I only watched. I knew I should
admire the owl's hunting skill, but I couldn't help feeling sorry for the
mouse.

He said, "If I was harsh in there, I'm sorry. You're a mature young woman,
and I shouldn't have suggested otherwise."

"It's okay. I kinda flew off the handle. I know there's no point in
arguing about coming here, not anymore."

Dad smiled gently at me. "Bianca, you know that your mother and I didn't
ever think we'd be able to have you."

"I know." Please, I thought, not the "miracle
baby" speech again.

"When you came into our lives, we dedicated ourselves to you. Maybe too
much. And that's our fault, not yours."

"Dad, no." I loved it when it was just our family together, only the
three of us in the world. "Don't talk about it like it's something
bad."

"I'm not." He seemed sad, and for the first time I