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to around strange dogs: don’t show fear but don’t make eye contact, no abrupt moves, hands to yourself. Megan and her friends head straight for a table in the middle of the chaos, where spaces for us magically appear. They are popular girls.Dexter is already there. When she sees me, she hesitates for a minute then slides over. I fit myself in next to her. I’ve never been so grateful to be near her in my life. I eat my sandwich in silence, listening to them talk about their classes and somebody’s party and some band I’ve never heard of that they all love. At the end of the hour Dexter says, “You know you can’t sit with us again.”
    The older girls are all nodding, sympathetically but as though to say, It’s out of our hands.
    “This was just for today,” Mean Megan says. “To help you out a bit. After what happened the other day in your class.”
    I blush. They heard about that? Other classes heard about that? Other grades heard about that? The whole school?
    “Oh, yes,” they all say, reading my face, nodding seriously.
    “Oh,” I say.
    “You’ll figure it out,” Dex says quietly. “You just need to figure out where you fit in. Join a club or something, make some friends.”
    “It’s hard for everybody to start with,” the one named Ruby says to me. “It’ll get better, you’ll see.”
    “It can’t get worse,” I say.

    “What do you mean, I have to share a bedroom with her?” I ask Mom.
    “You don’t have to,” Mom says. “But she would like itvery much. Ellie phoned last night and said it’s all she talks about, a sleepover with her favourite cousin.” Ellie and Merry are in Calgary. They’ve been driving a U-Haul across the country and arrive tomorrow afternoon.
    “Why can’t Dexter be her favourite cousin?” I say. Sleepovers are giggly and I don’t feel like getting giggly, even with Merry. I don’t feel like cheering up.
    “She can sleep in my room,” Dexter says. “I don’t mind.”
    “Thank you, Dexter,” Mom says. “That’s very considerate. We’ll explain it to Merry somehow.”
    I mumble something.
    “What was that?” Mom says sweetly.
    I mumble it again.
    “Thank you, sweetie,” Mom says. “I knew you’d understand.”

    “They’re here!” Dexter shouts. “Edie!”
    “I’m on the toilet,” I shout back. Which is sort of true. I’m sitting on the closed toilet seat, reading one of the newspapers Dad is always leaving in the bathroom. The bathroom is the one room in the house where I can lock the door. I have to turn the pages very, very quietly so no one will hear the crinkle and guess that I’m hiding.
    “Edie!” Mom says, rapping at the door as she hustles down the hallway. Her voice is excited.
    “Edie!” Dad calls from somewhere else in the house.
    I ignore them all. In this way I miss the first few moments of the big arrival, everybody standing around in the driveway hugging seventeen thousand times, telling each other how tall/old/skinny they look, Mom probably crying a little and then Dad and Dexter hugging her too and then everybody hugging everybody and saying Group Hug! I can see it all in my mind’s eye, and right now I don’t need it.
    I hear them move into the house and settle in the living room. There’s a voice in the mix I don’t recognize, a man’s voice, deeper than Dad’s. He says something and they all explode laughing. I try to pick out Merry’s voice, but she’s lost in the general noise. The strange man says something else and they all laugh again. I can’t stand it anymore. I stuff the newspaper in the inch of space between the toilet tank and the counter, flush, and open the door.
    “Here’s Edie!” Mom says.
    Before I even have time to see everyone in the room, I’m knocked off my feet. You think I’m kidding? You think this is a figure of speech? I am down on the floor, arms and legs all tangled up, barrelled over by someone determined to give me a bear hug. Someone.
    “Edie!” Merry says.
    We