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room, shut the door, flung himself on his bed, and buried his head under his pillow. The crying continued and Billy could not escape it. The sound penetrated the pillow, then it seemed to be coming from deep inside him like an extra, throbbing, irritating pulse.
    Finally, the crying stopped. Billy didn’t believe it at first. He pushed aside his pillow and cocked his head. Nothing. He rolled off his bed and tiptoed to the door. He opened it a crack. Not a sound.
    Tentatively, he headed downstairs to check out the situation. He stopped on the landing and looked out the window. It was dark. The streetlight at the corner was on, illuminating the falling snow. Like dandelion fluff, the snow drifted slowly to the ground, and Billy continued quietly down to the living room.

    Sal was on the couch nestled against Gabby, Sal and Billy’s babysitter. Sal was silent, but her body was heaving and shuddering in an oddly rhythmic pattern. Gabby was stroking Sal’s hair. When Gabby saw Billy she gave him a thumbs-up sign.
    “Ruby’s Cupboard is back on schedule,” said Gabby. “If you’re still up for it.”
    “Yes,” said Billy.
    “Good,” said Gabby. “I’m hungry. I’ll help Sal wash up and then we can go.”
    Sal lifted her head and swiveled it like a periscope. She seemed to be searching, seeing if Mama and Papa had magically reappeared. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were splotchy. “I cried so much I’m washed enough,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
    “Good point,” said Gabby. She prodded Sal playfully. “Well, let’s get our coats and hats and mittens on.”

    Billy was ready in a flash. Maybe part of the evening could be salvaged. He’d had a vision as to how this night was going to be, and mostly his vision had crumbled to pieces.
    It was Friday. Mama and Papa had driven to Chicago for a party at the gallery that was showing Papa’s new artwork, his assemblages. They were going to stay at a hotel in Chicago and return the next afternoon.
    The plan had been that Ned was going to spend the night at Billy’s house. Gabby was going to take Billy, Ned, and Sal out for dinner. They’d have hot dogs, onion rings, and root beer. Dessert would be ice cream sundaes. And, most exciting, Billy and Ned were going to stay awake all night—something Billy had never done before. This part of the plan was a secret.
    But Ned had thrown up at school during the afternoon recess, and even though he’d sworn on the phone from home that he felt fine, Mama canceled the sleepover. “I don’t want you or Sal getting sick,” she’d said to Billy, checking his forehead for a temperature. “Gabby will still take you to Ruby’s Cupboard. You’ll still have a good time.”
    Billy had tried to adjust his attitude. He reminded himself how much he loved to eat out, and he reminded himself that he could stay up all night without Ned. Why not? It would still be one of the major events of his life.
    But then as Mama and Papa drove away, Sal burst into tears. A delayed reaction. It was as if something inside her suddenly broke or popped or was switched on. She was hysterical. Gabby, Billy, and even the Drop Sisters were powerless to soothe her.
    The gushing of tears went on.
    And on.
    And on.
    Billy couldn’t stand it. He put his hands over his ears. He’d gone from trying to be helpful, to being annoyed, to feeling angry. “CAN. WE. GO. NOW. PLEASE?” he repeated loudly over the relentless crying.
    “I’m working on it,” Gabby said calmly. “We just might have to eat here,” she told Billy.
    Billy curled his lip. “NO,” he said. He stormed up to his room, hiding and seething. And that’s where he’d stayed until the crying had stopped.
    At last, things were back on track. Gabby was driving Billy, Sal, and the Drop Sisters to Ruby’s Cupboard in her car.
    “Isn’t the snow pretty?” asked Gabby. “It’s so feathery. Like snow in a movie.”
    “It’s furry,” said Billy, staring out the window.
    When