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In the front seat, Dad leaned forward and turned on the radio. John Denver's voice floated through the speakers with "Thank God I'm a Country Boy." "That's all I'm singing, Margie. If they don't want to join in… fine."

The drive home from British Columbia seemed to take forever. The air conditioner in the station wagon was broken, so warm air tumbled from the useless vents. Everyone was hot and tired and dirty. And still Mom and Dad wanted to sing songs. They kept bugging the kids to sing along.

Her brother burped and started laughing. The dog barked wildly.

Kate couldn't stand how lame it was. "Mom, will you please tell Sean to quit touching my shoulder?"

I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things.

"Katie. Kathleen."

She looked up. "Yeah?"

Kate returned to her book. The car bounced so much the words danced on the page, but that didn't matter; not with as many times as she'd read The Lord of the Rings.

"We're home," her dad said. "Put that dang book down and help us unload the car."

They piled out of the smelly station wagon and began the end-of-vacation ritual. By the time they finished, it was dark. Kate put the last of her clothes into the pile on the laundry room floor, started the first load, then went to find her mom, who was sitting on the sofa with Dad. They were leaning against each other, looking dazed.

Kate slapped her book shut. For seven days she'd been waiting to make that call. But unloading the car was more important. "Fine. But Sean better help."

"This is so not fair."

Dad consulted his watch. "At nine-thirty? I'm sure her grandmother would really appreciate that."

Her mother sighed. "You just worry about yourself, Kathleen."

"Goodnight, Katie," her dad said firmly, looping his arm around Mom and pulling her close.

For almost four hours Tully stood at the corner of her house, watching the Mularkeys unload their car. She'd thought about running up the hill a dozen times, just showing up, but she wasn't ready for the boisterousness of the whole family just yet. She wanted to be alone with Kate, someplace quiet where they could talk.

"But --"

"Can I call Tully first?"

"No. You'll unpack first."

Mom laughed. "Whoever told you life would be fair? Now go to bed."

"Can I call Tully now?"

So she waited until the lights went out and then crossed the street. In the grass beneath Kate's window, she waited another thirty minutes, just to be sure.

"I know, girl," Tully said, sitting down. She wrapped her arms around her bent legs, hugging herself. Maybe she should have called instead of stalking them like this. But Mrs. Mularkey might have told her to come by tomorrow, that they were tired from their long drive, and Tully couldn't wait anymore. This loneliness was more than she could handle by herself.

Finally, at eleven o'clock, she stood up, brushed the grass off her jeans, and threw a piece of gravel at Kate's window.

Off to her left somewhere, she could hear Sweetpea nickering at her and pawing at the ground. No doubt the old mare was looking for company, too. During the camping trip a neighbor had fed the horse, but that wasn't the same as being loved.

It took four tosses before her friend stuck her head out the window. "Tully!" Kate ducked back into her room and slammed the window shut. It took less than a minute for her to appear at the side of the house. Wearing a Bionic Woman nightshirt, her old black-rimmed glasses, and her retainer, Kate ran for Tully, arms outstretched.

"I missed you so much," Kate said, tightening her hold.

Tully couldn't answer. It was all she could do not to cry. She wondered if Kate knew, really knew, how important their friendship was to her. "I got our bikes," she said, stepping back, looking away so Kate wouldn't see her moist eyes.

Tully felt Kate's arms wrap around her and for the first time in days, she felt safe.

"Cool."

Within minutes they were on their way, flying down Summer Hill, their hands outstretched to catch the wind. At the bottom of the hill, they ditched their bikes in the trees and walked down the long and winding road to the river. All around them trees chattered among themselves; the wind sighed, and leaves fluttered down from branches in an early sign of the coming autumn.

Kate flopped down in their old spot, her back rested against the mossy log, her feet stretched out in the grass that had grown tall in their absence.

Tully felt an unexpected pinch of nostalgia for their youth. They'd spent most of one summer here, taking their separate, lonely lives and braiding them into a rope of friendship. She lay down beside Kate, scooting close enough that their shoulders were touching. After the last few days, she needed to know that her best friend was finally beside her. She positioned her transistor radio nearby and turned up the volume.

"Not at you." Tully sighed. "You're my best friend."

And there it was, what Tully had been waiting for all week. Someone who loved her and was truly sorry for her. Tears stung her eyes; before she knew it, she was crying. Big, gulping sobs that wracked her body and made it impossible to breathe, and all the while, Kate held her, letting her cry, saying nothing.

Kate shifted her weight and turned, until she was lying sideways in the grass, looking at Tully. "You usually want to hear everything about the camping trip."

"Hell Week with Bugs was even worse than usual," Kate said. "I did talk Sean into eating a slug, though. It was worth the week's allowance I lost." She giggled. "You should have seen his face when I started laughing. Aunt Georgia tried to talk to me about birth control. Can you believe it? She said I should --"

"Do you even know how lucky you are?" The words were out before Tully could stop them, spilling like jelly beans from a machine.

"Yeah, well. I've had a bad week."

"That's your idea of a bad week? I want your perfect life, just for a day."

"Cloud. Gran. God. Take your pick." She took a deep breath and said, "Gran died while you were gone."

"So, who are you mad at?"

"Did you get fired?"

"Oh, Tully."

Kate drew back, frowning. "You sound pissed at me."

When there were no tears left inside, Tully smiled shakily. "Thanks for not saying you felt sorry for me."

"I am, though."

Tully wiped her eyes and reached into her pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one up, she took a drag and coughed. It had been years since she'd smoked. "I have to go into foster care. It's only for a while, though. When I'm eighteen I can live alone."

"I know." Tully lay back against the log and stared up at the night sky. She wanted to admit that she was scared and that as alone as she'd sometimes felt in life, she knew now what real loneliness was, but she couldn't say the words, not even to Kate. Thoughts -- even fears -- were airy things, formless until you made them solid with your voice, and once given that weight, they could crush you.

Kate waited a moment, then said, "So what will happen?"

Tully didn't bother answering. She loved her friend for saying it, but they lived in two different worlds, she and Kate. In Tully's world, moms weren't there to help you out. What mattered was making your own way.

"You're not going to live with strangers," Kate said fiercely. "I'll find Cloud and make her do the right thing."

And the best way not to care was to surround yourself with noise and people. She'd learned that lesson a long time ago. She didn't have long here in Snohomish. In no time at all, the authorities would find her and drag her back to her lovely new family, full of displaced teens and the people paid to house them. "We should go to that party tomorrow night. The one you wrote about in your last letter."

"At Karen's house? The summer's-end bash-o-rama?"

"If I get caught --"

What mattered was not caring.

Kate frowned. "My folks would have a cow if they found out I went to a kegger."

"You won't." Tully saw how worried her friend was, and she knew she should stop this plan right now. It was reckless, maybe even dangerous. But she couldn't stop the train. If she didn't do something drastic, she'd sink into the gooey darkness of her own fears. She'd think about the mother who'd so often and so repeatedly abandoned her, and the strangers with whom she'd soon live, and the grandmother who was gone. "We won't get caught. I promise." She turned to Kate. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Exactly."

"We'll tell them you're staying at my house across the street. Your mom will believe Cloud is back for a day."

"Sure," Kate said slowly.

"Kids! Breakfast is ready."

Tully lurched forward. Looking up, she started to say something, but no sound came out of her mouth. She just stood there, staring at Kate's mom.

Kate was the first one to sit down.

"Oh, honey…" Mom pulled Tully into a fierce hug, holding her for a long time. Finally, Mom drew back, put an arm around Tully, and led her to the sofa in the living room.

"What is it?" her mother said, moving toward Tully. "What's going on?"

"Great. Then we're going to the party."

Mom stood near the table, wearing her zip-up, floor-length red velour robe and pink fuzzy slippers. "Hey, Tully, it's good to see you again. We missed you on the camping trip this year, but I know how important your job is."

Kate jumped up. "I'll get it." She ran for the door and yanked it open, feigning surprise. "Mom, look. It's Tully. Gosh, I haven't seen you in forever."

Mom had just put a plate of pancakes down on the table when there was a knock at the door.

"My gran died," Tully said softly.

"Turn off the griddle, Katie," Mom said without even looking back.

Kate turned off the griddle and then followed them to the living room. She hung back, standing in the curl of the archway that separated the two rooms. Neither of them seemed to care that she was there.

"Let's just say she doesn't call herself Cloud for nothing. She came and went." Tully glanced at Kate and added quickly, "But she's here for now. We're staying across the street."

"Did we miss the funeral?" Mom asked gently, holding Tully's hand.

Tully nodded. "Everyone said they were sorry. I officially hate those words now."

"My favorite part was the ever popular 'she's in a better place.' As if dead is better than being with me."

"People don't know what to say, that's all."

"And your mom?"

"Of course she is," Mom said. "She knows you need her."

"Can I spend the night there tonight, Mom?" Kate asked; her heart was beating so hard and fast, she was sure her mom could hear it. She tried to look completely trustworthy, but since she was lying, she expected her mother to see through it.

"I know so. You have a rare gift, Tully. And you can be certain that your gran is in Heaven watching out for you."

"You really think so?" Tully asked.

Mom didn't even look at Kate. "Of course. You girls need to be together. And you remember this, Tully Hart: You're the next Jessica Savitch. You will survive this. I promise."

Kate paused. She had no idea how she could make her mother proud; she wasn't like Tully. Kate had no rare gift.

"I'll make you proud, Mrs. M. I promise I will."

The thing was, though, her own mother should think she did and should point it out. Instead, her mother -- like everyone else -- was caught in the gravitational pull of Tully's sun.

Kate felt a sudden urge to butt in, to step forward and ask her mother if she believed she could change the world. She even went so far as to move forward and open her mouth, but before she could form the question, she heard Tully say,

"We're both going to be reporters," Kate said, more harshly than she intended. At their startled looks, she felt like an idiot. "Come on," she said, forcing a smile this time. "We should eat before everything is ruined."

Tully knew it but couldn't turn back. In the days since Gran's funeral and Cloud's encore abandonment, her grief had been slowly replaced by anger. It darted through her blood like a predator, puffing her up with emotions that couldn't be tamped down or contained. She knew she was being reckless, but she couldn't change her course. If she slowed down, even for a moment, her fear would catch up with her and the plan was in motion now. They were in her mother's old bedroom, supposedly getting ready.

Tully marched over to the poorly decoupaged water bed, grabbed the paperback novel out of Kate's hands, and threw it across the room. "I can't believe you brought a book."

"Ohmigod," Kate said in an awed voice. "You gotta read this."

The party was a bad idea. Taunting-Carrie-at-the-prom bad.

"We're going to a party, Kate. Enough with the romance novels. And just for the record, tying a woman to a bed is S-I-C-K."

"Hey!" Kate tried to sit up; waves rolled around her. "Wulfgar was tying her to the end of the bed. I have to find out --"

"Okay, okay." She shuffled over to the pile of clothes Tully had laid out for her earlier -- a pair of Jordache jeans and a clingy bronze halter top. "My mom would die if she knew I was going out in this."

"No buts. Get dressed."

Tully didn't respond. Truthfully she wished she hadn't heard. Mrs. M. was the last person she wanted to think about right now. She focused instead on getting dressed: jeans, pink tube top, and navy platform lace-up sandals. Bending over, she brushed her hair for maximum Farrah volume, then sprayed it with enough Aqua Net to stop a bug in flight. When she was sure she looked perfect, she turned to Kate. "Are you --"

"You are so pathetic."

"Yeah," Kate said slowly, frowning. "I know, but --"

Kate was dressed for the party and back on the bed reading again.

Tully grabbed the book again. She wasn't sure why, but this really pissed her off. Maybe it was Kate's glossy idealism; how could she see Tully's life and still believe in fairy-tale endings? "Let's go."

Kate rolled onto her back and smiled. "It's romantic, Tully. I'm not kidding."

Without waiting to see if Kate was following, Tully went out to the garage and opened the doors and then slid into the cracked black driver's seat of her grandmother's Queen Victoria, ignoring the way the stuffing poked into her back. She slammed the door shut.

"You have her car?" Kate said, opening the passenger door and poking her head in.

"Technically it's my car now."

Tully popped a Kiss tape into the eight-track player and cranked up the volume. Then she put the car in reverse and eased her foot onto the gas.

Kate slid onto the seat and closed the door.

Inside, it was a smoke-fest. The sweet smell of pot and incense was almost overpowering. The music was so loud it hurt Tully's ears. She grabbed Kate's hand and led her down the stairs to the rec room in the basement.

They sang at the top of their lungs all the way to Karen Abner's house, where at least five cars were already parked. Several of them were tucked into the trees and out of sight. When someone's parents left town, word spread fast; parties sprouted like mushrooms.

The huge room had fake-wood-paneled walls and lime-green indoor-outdoor carpeting. In the center was a cone fireplace surrounded by an orange half-moon-shaped sofa and several brown beanbag chairs. Over to the left, some boys were playing foosball and screaming at every turn of the handle. Kids were dancing wildly, singing to the music. A couple of boys were on the sofa, getting high, and a girl was over by the door, shotgunning a beer beneath a huge painting of a Spanish matador.

She looked around for Kate, but couldn't see her friend in the crowd.

"Tully!"

Before she could respond, her old friends surrounded her, pulled her away from Kate. She went to the keg first and let one of the boys give her a plastic cup full of foamy gold Rainier beer. She stared down at it, jolted by the memory that came with it: Pat, pushing her to the ground…

Then everyone began chanting her name. "Tu-lly. Tu-lly."

No one was going to hurt her. Not here; tomorrow, maybe, when the authorities caught up with her, but not now. She chugged the beer and held the cup out for another, yelling out Kate's name as she did.

Kate took the beer and chugged it.

Kate appeared instantly, as if she'd been just out of view, waiting to be called for.

"Ka-tie, Ka-tie," Tully yelled, getting the crowd to chant with her. "Come on, Katie," she said quietly. "We're best friends, aren't we?"

Tully shoved the beer toward her. "Here."

More than half of it spilled down her chin and onto her halter top, making the shimmery fabric cling to her breasts, but she didn't seem to notice.

Tully grabbed Kate's hand and dragged her over to where the kids were dancing. There, Tully let loose and fell into the music and the movement.

Kate shook her head. It was a slight there-and-gone motion, but Tully saw it and felt ashamed that she'd offered the beer, and then angry that her friend was so innocent. Tully had never been innocent; not that she could remember anyway.

Then the music changed. ABBA's "Dancing Queen" blared through the speakers. You can dance, you can j-ive…

Kate glanced nervously at the crowd around her.

"I love this song," Kate said.

Tully felt that shame again and the jealousy. She could stop this right now, protect Katie --

When Neal Stewart came up to them and asked Kate to dance, Kate was the only one surprised. She turned to Tully. "Neal wants to dance with me," she yelled during a lull in the song. "He must be drunk." Putting her hands in the air, she danced away with Neal, leaving Tully standing alone in the crowd.

But it was Kate who was the more changed. Maybe it was the one beer, or the pulsing beat of the music; Tully wasn't sure. All she knew was that Kate looked gorgeous, with her blond hair shining in the light from an overhead fixture and her pale, delicate face flushed with exertion.

It felt so good, the way he had his arms around her, his hands just above her butt. She felt his hips moving against hers. It made her heartbeat speed up, made her breathing quicken. A new feeling overtook her; it was a kind of breathless anticipation. She wanted… what?

Kate pressed her cheek against Neal's soft T-shirt.

By the time the music changed and slowed down, she was breathing hard and laughing easily.

She heard the hesitant way he said her name and it struck her suddenly: Did he feel all these things, too?

"Kate?"

Slowly, she looked up.

His tongue slid into her mouth, forcing her lips to open a little.

Neal smiled down at her; he was only a little unsteady on his feet. "You're beautiful," he said, and then he kissed her, right there in the middle of the dance floor. Kate drew in a sharp breath and stiffened in his arms. It was so unexpected that she didn't know what she was supposed to do.

"Wow," he said softly when he finally drew back.

Wow what? Wow, you're a spaz? or Wow, what a kiss!

In an instant, Neal was gone and Tully was beside her again, taking her hand. They made their lurching, desperate way out of the house, up the hill and through the scrub brush, and back down to the trees. By the time they got to the car, Kate was terrified and her stomach was in open revolt. "I'm gonna puke."

Behind her, someone yelled, "Cops!"

Tully ran around the front of the car and opened her door. Sliding into the driver's seat, she stabbed the key into the ignition, yanked the gearshift into reverse, and stomped on the gas. They rocketed backward and slammed into something hard. Kate flew forward like a rag doll, cracking her forehead on the dashboard and then slumping back into her seat. Dazed, she opened her eyes, tried to focus.

"No, you aren't." Tully yanked open the passenger door and shoved Kate inside. "We are not gonna get busted."

"Nice language, Tallulah. Now, will you please step out of the car?" He bent down, looked at Kate. "You, too, Kate Mularkey. The party's over."

Tully was beside her, rolling down the driver's-side window.

There, in the darkness, was good old Officer Dan, the man who'd driven Tully away from Snohomish three years ago. "I knew you Firefly Lane girls would be a pain in my ass."

The first thing that happened at the police station was the girls were separated.

"Fuck," Tully said.

A gunmetal-gray desk and two chairs sat forlornly beneath a bright hanging lightbulb. The walls were a gross green color and the floor was plain bumpy cement. There was a sad, faded stink to the place, a combination of sweat and piss, and old spilled coffee.

The entire left wall was a mirror.

"Someone will come talk to you," Officer Dan said, guiding Tully into a room at the end of the hall.

All it took was one episode of Starsky and Hutch to know that it was really a window.

She wondered if the social worker was on the other side of it yet, shaking her head in disappointment, saying, That fine family won't want her now, or the lawyer, who wouldn't know what to say.

Or the Mularkeys.

After that, she waited for someone to burst in for her, maybe holding handcuffs, but the minutes just ticked by in smelly silence. She moved the black plastic chair to one corner and sat down.

I knew better.

At that, she made a little sound of horror. How could she have been so stupid? The Mularkeys had liked her until tonight, and now she'd gone and thrown that all away, and for what? Because she'd been depressed by her mom's rejection? By now she ought to be used to that. When had it ever been any other way?

"I won't be stupid again," she said, looking right at the mirror. "If someone would give me another chance, I'd be good."

"How could I be so stupid?" This time Tully didn't even glance at the mirror. There was no one behind there. Who would be looking at her anyway, the kid no one wanted?

She closed her eyes, thinking the same thing over and over again. Along with that thought, running alongside it like some shadow forming in the twilight was its twin: Will you be a good friend to Katie?

The door opened and Mrs. Mularkey walked into the room. In a washed-out floral dress and worn white Keds, she looked tired and poorly put together, as if she'd been wakened in the middle of the night and dressed in whatever she could find in the dark.

Be good, Tully. Agree with everything they say. Foster care is better than juvenile hall.

Across the room, the doorknob twisted, turned.

Which, of course, was exactly what had happened.

Tully tensed. Her fingers bit into her thighs.

Shame overwhelmed Tully. Here was one of the very few people who had ever believed in her, and she'd let Mrs. M. down. "How's Kate?"

Mrs. Mularkey exhaled smoke. "Bud took her home. I don't expect she'll leave the house again for a good long while."

"Oh." Tully squirmed uncomfortably. Her every blemish was on view, she was sure of it, from the lies she'd told to the secrets she'd kept to the tears she'd cried. Mrs. M. saw it all.

Mrs. Mularkey reached into her dress pocket for her cigarettes. Finding one, she lit up. Through the swirling smoke, she studied Tully. Sadness and disappointment emanated from her, as visible as the smoke.

It was a moment before Mrs. Mularkey said, "A girl who lived in our house would have to do chores and follow the rules. Mr. Mularkey and I wouldn't stand for any funny business."

Tully looked down at her own hands, unable to stand the disappointment she saw on Mrs. M.'s face. "The foster family won't want me now."

"Yes, you did." Mrs. Mularkey pulled a chair away from the table and sat down in front of Tully. "They want to send you to juvenile hall."

Just hearing it was like a blow to the heart. She knew she'd spend a long time trying to forget it. "Yeah, right."

"Big surprise there." Tully heard the way her voice cracked on that. She knew it revealed how hurt she'd been, but there was no way to hide it. Not from Mrs. M.

And she didn't like what she saw.

"Katie thinks they can find another family for you to live with."

Tully could hardly blame her. "I know I let you down."

"I understand your mother refused to take custody of you."

"Yeah, well, Katie lives in a different world than I do."

Mrs. Mularkey leaned back in her chair. Taking a drag on her cigarette, she exhaled smoke and said quietly, "She wants you to live with us."

The falling turned into flying, and suddenly Tully was crying for all of it -- Gran, the foster family, Cloud. Her relief was the biggest emotion she'd ever felt. With shaking hands, she pulled the crumpled, half-empty pack of cigarettes out of her purse and handed them over.

Mrs. M. leaned forward and touched Tully's jawline. "I know how hard your life has been up to now, Tully, and I can't stand for you to go back to that."

"And there would definitely be no smoking."

Tully looked up sharply. "What are you saying?" She couldn't even put this sudden hope into words.

Tully stared at her, feeling tears sting her eyes, but that pain was nothing compared to what was going on deep inside her. It felt suddenly as if she were about to fall. "Are you saying I can live with you?"

Through all the decades of Tully's life, she would remember that moment as the beginning of something new for her; the becoming of someone new. While she lived with the loud, crazy, loving Mularkey family, she found a whole new person inside her. She didn't keep secrets or tell lies or pretend that she was someone else, and never once did they act as if she were unwanted or not good enough. No matter where she went in her later years, or what she did or whom she was with, she would always remember this moment and those words: Welcome to our family, Tully. Always and forever, she would think of that senior year of high school, when she was inseparable from Kate and a part of the family, as the single best year of her life.

"Welcome to our family, Tully," Mrs. M. finally said into the silence, pulling Tully into her arms and letting her cry.