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with this totally cute guy, and she was sure to blow it. Whatever had attracted him was sure to evaporate once he spent any time with her.
    She plodded up the worn marble stairs, deciding that the exercise couldn’t hurt. Her thoughts returned to the cost of the school. A check arrived from Gran every few weeks that would certainly be helping fund her education. Kate had seen Willow open the envelopes, purse her lips, and tuck the slips of paper into her wallet. Sometimes when the bank statements arrived, Kate could tell her sister was worried. But Willow was twenty-three, old enough to take care of things.
    Did Fenwick actually get paid more for working there because it was a private school? Kate bit her lip in disgust, stopping for a moment on the landing to catch her breath. That greyhound of a woman had senses unknown to humankind, and wherever her salary went, it wasn’t going toward personal hygiene. Fenwick often smelled of B.O. and everyone knew the teacher passed gas in class.
    As she navigated the last flight, Kate wondered whether she’d be as slim as Willow if she always took the stairs. It was more than exercise that did it for Willow, she guessed. Stress used up a lot of calories, and Willow fretted about a lot of things. At first, Kate thought it was going to be easy living with Willow. But Willow quickly proved to be more protective even than Dad. You had to tell her where you were going. You had to tell her when you’d be back. And you had to get all your homework done, every detail, well ahead of deadlines. For a while, Willow had tried to make Kate run, as she had in New York. Training had been part of her lifestyle then but, with her short legs, Kate knew she’d never be a track star. Why bother?
    As Kate opened the doorway to the second floor, she pulled off the navy jacket, damp from the rain, and wondered what Willow would say about her date with Hal. With some misgivings, she realized she didn’t even know Hal’s last name. But Willow would be at the theater. If Kate was back home early enough, the date would be her secret. Nobody would have to know—not Willow, not Gran, not anyone.

5
The memories
    Kate pushed the large gold key into the lock but it stuck, as usual, when she tried to turn it. She grabbed the door handle and rattled it as hard as she could. Stupid door—why was it always such a pain? In New York, her dad could have fixed this easily, but here, you had to apply for a repairman from Reception and then wait about fifteen years.
    â€œHere, let me help with that.” Kate jerked around. It was their tall, angular neighbor, Martin Brown. He’d come so quietly down the hallway that Kate hadn’t heard him approach. “It’s simpler if you turn the key instead of the door.” Martin Brown smiled. Then they both laughed when, with a flick of his wrist, he turned the key and opened the door as easily as if it had been unlocked to start with.
    â€œWell,” he said, stepping back toward his own flat. “Be seeing you.”
    â€œYeah,” said Kate, looking at his jet black hair with admiration. It was sleek and shiny, like a raven’s wing. Then she suddenly remembered his line of work. “You study history, right?” she asked.
    â€œThat’s my field, yes,” he said. “Although I’m not exactly an expert on general knowledge, you know, just things specific to my subject area …”
    â€œI’m … I’m interested in wolves,” she blurted. “Like, why everyone says there aren’t any in England.”
    â€œWolves,” said Martin Brown slowly. He gave her a quizzical glance. “The English people exterminated the wolves a very long time ago, likely before the 1500s. Why do you ask?”
    Kate could feel herself flushing. “I’m … uh … writing something for our school newspaper. I’m supposed to find out some interesting facts.”
    Martin Brown