I blinked. The answer was obvious.

I had to run away.

It wasn’t going to be much of a trip. I’d just have to ask Marisol if I could stay with her. She had plenty of room. I could help around the house.

I leaped up. Crenshaw watched me, but he didn’t say a word.

It wasn’t like I had a lot to pack. I grabbed my pillow, my keepsakes bag, some clothes, and my toothbrush.

The way I figured it, I’d go over to Marisol’s house before my family woke up. Marisol was an early riser. She wouldn’t mind.

It was hard to find a piece of paper and a pencil, but I managed. Aretha and Crenshaw watched me chew on the pencil as I tried to decide what to write.

“What should I say?” I asked, as much to myself as to Crenshaw.

“Tell the truth to the person who matters most,” said Crenshaw. “You.”

And so I did.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Here are the facts.

I am tired of not knowing what is going to happen.

I am old enough to understand things.

I hate living this way.

I’m going to live with Marisol for a while.

When you figure things out, maybe I can join you.

Love,

Jackson

PS: Aretha likes to sleep on a pillow, so don’t forget.

PPS: Robin needs to know what’s happening, too.

In an envelope, I put ten dollars I’d made from walking the Gouchers’ dachshunds. On the outside I wrote: To cover two unfortunate incidents where I used very bad judgment, please give $7 to Safeway (for 2 jars of Gerber chicken and rice) and $3 to Pet Food Express (for a cookie shaped like a cat).

49

Ta-tap-ta-ta-tap.

It was Robin, knocking at my door. “Jacks?”

I dropped my pencil. “Go to sleep, Robin. It’s late.”

“It’s scary in my room.”

“It’ll be morning soon,” I said.

“I’ll just wait here by your door,” Robin said. “I have Spot to keep me company.”

I looked at Crenshaw. He held up his paws. “Don’t ask me. Human children are infinitely more complicated than kittens.”

“Please go back to bed, Robin,” I pleaded.

“I don’t mind waiting,” she said.

I stood.

I went to the door.

I hesitated.

I opened it.

Robin came in. She had Spot, her pillow, and her Lyle book.

I looked at her.

I looked at my note.

I crumpled it up and tossed it aside.

We read Lyle together until we both fell asleep.

50

When I awoke, Robin, Aretha, and Crenshaw were spread out on my mattress. Robin and Aretha were both drooling a little.

Sitting on the floor across from us were my mom and dad. They had on their bathrobes. My dad had my crumpled note, flattened out, in his lap.

“Good morning,” my mom whispered.

I didn’t answer her. I didn’t even look at her.

“Fact,” my dad said softly. “Parents make mistakes.”

“A lot,” my mom added.

“Fact,” said my dad. “Parents try not to burden their kids with grown-up problems. But sometimes that’s hard to do.”

Robin stirred, but she didn’t wake.

“Well, it’s hard being a kid, too,” I said. I was glad I sounded so angry. “It’s hard not to know what’s happening.”

“I know,” said my dad.

“I don’t want to go back to that time,” I said, my voice getting louder with each word. “I hated you for putting us through it. It wasn’t fair. Other kids don’t have to sleep in their car. Other kids aren’t hungry.”

I knew that wasn’t true. I knew that lots of other kids had it worse than I did. But I didn’t care.

“Why can’t you just be like other parents?” I demanded. I was crying hard. I gasped for breath. “Why does it have to be this way?”

My mom came over and tried to hug me. I wouldn’t let her.

“We’re so sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered.

My dad sniffed. He cleared his throat.

I looked over at Crenshaw. He was awake, watching me carefully.

I took a deep, shuddery breath. “I know you’re sorry. But that doesn’t change the way things are.”

“You’re right,” said my dad.

No one talked for a few minutes. The only sound was Crenshaw, purring gently. And only I could hear him.

Slowly, very slowly, I began to feel my anger changing into something softer.

“It’s okay,” I finally said. “It’s really okay. I just want you to tell me the truth from now on. That’s all.”

“That’s fair,” my dad said.

“More than fair,” my mom agreed.

“I’m getting older,” I said. “I can handle it.”

“Well, then here’s another fact,” said my dad. “Last night I called the guy who wanted to buy our guitars. He told me his brother owns that music store down by the mall. He needs an assistant manager. His brother also has a garage apartment behind the store that won’t be occupied for a month. It’d give us a roof over our heads for a little while, anyway. Maybe some more work.”

“That’s good, right?” I asked.

“It’s good,” my dad said. “But it’s not a certainty. Here’s the thing, Jackson. Life is messy. It’s complicated. It would be nice if life were always like this.” He drew an imaginary line that kept going up and up. “But life is actually a lot more like this.” He made a jiggly line that went up and down like a mountain range. “You just have to keep trying.”

“What’s that expression?” asked my mom. “Fall down seven times, get up eight?”

“More fortune cookie wisdom,” said my dad. “But it’s true.”

My mom patted my back. “Starting today, we’ll be as honest with you as we can. Is that what you want?”

I looked over at Crenshaw. He nodded.

“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I want.”

“All right, then,” said my dad. “It’s a deal.”

“Fact,” said my mom. “I’d really like some breakfast. Let’s go see what we can do about that.”

51

The music store looked pretty run-down. We waited in the car while my parents went to talk to the owner. It took a long time. Robin and I played cerealball with her T-ball cap and some sugarless bubble gum.

“You remember those purple jelly beans?” Robin asked.

“The magic ones?”

Robin nodded. “They were maybe not so magic.”

I sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

“They were from Kylie’s birthday party.” Robin pulled on her ponytail. “I just wanted you to think they were magic. But there’s no such thing. Of course.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Could be magic happens sometimes.”

“Really?” Robin asked.

“Really,” I said.

When my parents came out of the store, they were smiling. They shook a man’s hand, and he gave my dad a set of keys.

“Got the job,” my dad said. “It’s part-time, but with everything else, it should help. And we can stay in that apartment for a month, anyway. Hopefully by then we’ll have come up with yet another plan. We really want to keep you and Robin at the same school. We’re going to do our best, but there are no guarantees.”

“I know,” I said, and even though it didn’t solve all our problems, I felt a little better.

The garage apartment was tiny, with only one bedroom. There was no TV, and the carpeting was a weary beige.

Still. It had a roof and a door and a family who needed it.

52

The article I read about imaginary friends said they often appear during times of stress. It said that as kids mature, they tend to outgrow their pretend world.

But Crenshaw told me something else.

He said imaginary friends never leave. He said they were on call. Just waiting, in case they were needed.

I said that sounded like a lot of waiting around, and he said he didn’t mind. It was his job.

The first night in our new apartment, I slept on a chair in the living room. I woke up in the middle of the night. Everyone else was sleeping soundly.