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her grandson?
    A heavy weight was falling off my shoulders. “There will be an answer, let it shine, let it shine,” as Alfie, our bus driver, liked to sing. Of course, another little tune of his was piping up in my head. Something about freedom being just another word for nothing left to lose. Sure, I’d be free of Ralston and my fears and embarrassment, but I’d also lose daily contact with my friends and my teachers.
    Rather than lie there and let this little voice get any louder, I decided to head down to the kitchen for a glass of water. (Em would be proud.)
    I found my way in the dark around the air mattresses and sleeping bags. On the second-floor landing, the hall lights were still on. Kate’s door was closed—as was Nate’s.
    Downstairs, lights had been left on . . . in the hallway . . . the living room. . . . Someone was still up. Just outside the kitchen, I heard raised voices.
    “I can’t believe her!” Mom’s voice was shrill. “How can she think we’d accept a will that doesn’t treat all our kids the same? A stipend for Milly instead of a share!”
    My heart stopped beating. My hands were tingling. I stood there paralyzed, not wanting to hear what I was hearing.
    “You know why she’s doing this, don’t you?” Mom went on. “Didn’t I tell you she’d try to get back at you for refusing to go back to Kaufman again?”
    “Well, she can hurt me all she wants, but I won’t let her hurt Milly.” Dad sounded the angriest I’d ever heard.
    “I’ll tell you one thing,” Mom fumed. “I’m not accepting another penny from her. No more handouts!”
    I don’t know why I didn’t just run upstairs and exit out of this moment in my life like I had out of so many others. My eyes were burning. My hands were burning. But somehow I knew there was no place to run away to anymore.
    I pushed open the door of the kitchen. Mom and Dad jerked around toward me, their faces pale and shocked. “Sweetie,” Dad began. “We were just—”
    “I heard,” I stopped him.
    They came forward and folded their arms around me.
    “It’s not about you,” Dad kept saying.
    “We love you, honey,” Mom reassured me. “We’re still a family. Nothing has changed.”
    But everything had changed. For weeks now my life had been trying to tell me something. I
was
different. I was adopted. I was not
blood
family. Oh, I was still their daughter, Milly. But there was another me. The one who had caught Pablo’s eye. The one Happy had left out of her will. The one I had kept a secret, even from myself.

3
    small towns
    MOM ALWAYS SAYS THAT living in a small town is good for your character. You’re bitchy to the lady at the bank, and there she is at Greg’s Market, rolling her cart toward you. Or her kid’s on your kid’s soccer team. In the city, my cousins can mouth off to some salesperson at Bloomingdale’s and head uptown to their East Side apartment and no one will know. Except, I suppose, their therapists.
    In a small town, you have to face the consequences.
    Ditto for high school in a small town.
    Hello, Pablo. How’s it going,
I practiced. Or should I really go all out and say it in Spanish?
Hola, Pablo. ¿Qué hay?
    I was standing outside the lunch room, waiting to get brave enough to go in.
    “Hey, long-lost friend!” Em came from behind me. I winced at the surprise in her voice. Had I stayed away so long it was now a shock to see me? When I turned, there was Pablo beside her!
    “You coming to lunch?” Em asked, looking from me to Pablo and back. She was picking up some tension between us.
    “Sure.” I flashed her a smile, then tried holding it steady for Pablo.
    He scowled back. Why shouldn’t he hate my guts? After visiting our advanced class, he knew I could speak pretty good Spanish. I had understood him back in January. Now, two months later, I was deciding to be a nice person?
Muchas gracias,
but no thank you.
    “So, are you coming?” Em prodded, as I seemed rooted to the spot.
    “I’ve got