Once upon a time, in the jungle of Nool, there was a speck. On that speck was a city, a beautiful white and blue city with sloping arches and happy Whos. Every furry face smiled, every coat shone with vibrant colors. Music soared through the open windows, causing some couples to burst into a series of spins, lifts, and dips to the cheerful beat.

I envy their happiness.

Hi. I'm JoJo. When I was younger, I helped save Whoville. But now that I'm nearly an adult, the events of the Who Centennial are no longer held in the memories of the Whos. I don't mind, not really; I've always been left alone, even by my family. That tends to happen when you have ninety-six sisters and the mayor for your father. And now that my parents are planning to divorce, my feelings of contentment seem to be evasive as well as irrelevant.

Oh, the divorce. Are you surprised? Sally – I can no longer call her mother – believes that the mayor – I have always called him by his title – is in love with the elephant in the sky. The way I see it, the mayor isn't so much in love with Horton as he is with Doc. After he figured out the whole speck thing, Doc had become infatuated with him, and for whatever reason, he responded to her advances.

Sally has not found out why he would stay at his office until late in the night.

I only know because of Horton.

I will never tell Sally.

And so, the constant arguments are ended by a quick and simple divorce. My sisters and I are either in college or already out of the house, so it's not like they'll be tearing our family apart over the mayor's stupidity. But I say that lightly and insincerely.

Speaking of my sisters, they have finally noticed my constant withdrawal to the old Who Observatory, but they either ignore it or they send a girlfriend up this way. They think that if I fall in love, I'll be happier. I've seen what love has done, not just with my parents and Doc, but also between Horton and the Kangaroo. Love is dangerous, and I would rather not run the risk of having to lose the peace I've found here, in this place.

My true home.

The inside is different from the time when I helped prove our existence. The moment the other Whos went back to normalcy, I tore down everything and started over again. Whenever I ran out of pieces, I would tear down and rebuild. This place is exhilarating to rebuild, and I was content, until the most recent time I had no new materials. I'd have just taken things from town; I've been swiping objects from my parents' house – it is not my house, nor is it my home – for years. Occasionally they noticed despite my careful precautions to only take the things that had been forgotten just as I was, and that was fine. I just returned the piece as soon as possible.

But once I ran out of usable stuff, I always had to start over.

I'm sick of starting over.

I was as soon as I had to begin again here, after the Whos forgot me.

And no matter what, even if I sneak away every item in my parents' soon to be empty house, even if I use every object in Whoville that may or may not be nailed down, I will never start over again.