"Thank you so much, Mrs. Benson. It shouldn't be longer than a few hours."

"Oh, don't worry at all about it. I'm just glad I can help."

"Well, it means a lot." Spencer turned to his little sister. "Alright, Carly. You gonna be okay here?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Okay. See you in a few hours." Spencer patted Carly's head, nodded at Mrs. Benson and headed out. Mrs. Benson ushered the eight year-old in and shut the door.

"Alright, Carly. Come with me. You can sit at the kitchen table and finish your homework while I make you a snack."

Carly followed Mrs. Benson into the kitchen and saw a boy, her age, sitting at the table with an open book and a worksheet in front of him. He looked familiar. She realized quickly that he was the boy she always saw sitting alone at lunch and being teased at recess, but she had never met him before. Mrs. Benson did the honors.

"Carly, this is my son Freddie. He's just finishing up his homework. Freddie, this is Carly Shay. She's the girl I told you about that lives across the hall."

"Hi," Freddie said brightly.

"Hi," Carly responded politely. "It's nice to meet you."

There was an awkward pause as Freddie continued to smile at her. Carly, however, couldn't think of anything else to say, so she smiled back at him and then joined him at the square table. He continued to watch her. Carly began to feel a little uncomfortable, so she decided to try out some small talk.

"I've seen you at school, right? Aren't you in Ms. Piper's class?"

"Yeah," Freddie nodded.

Carly pulled her homework out of her bag and began working on it. Eventually Freddie refocused on his worksheet.

Later that afternoon, after finishing their homework, the two decided to play some cards. Freddie spent the first twenty or so minutes just rambling on about various things that Carly found incredibly dull, but then he got quiet for a moment. When he spoke again he was oddly serious.

"Carly?" he eked out nervously. She glanced up from her cards. "When did your mom get sick?"

Carly looked back down at her cards and shrugged. "We found out when I was five, but she was probably sick before that, too."

"Oh." Freddie played a card. "Is she going to die?"

"I don't know," Carly responded honestly. "Spencer always tells me not to worry about it, but she's in bed all the time." There was a pause, and then she said in a softer voice, "I think she's getting worse." She had never admitted that to anyone. She rarely talked about her mom. No one really asked, and although she'd made a couple friends at school they rarely had such serious discussions. Carly was a little surprised she felt comfortable talking to this annoying kid across the hall, but, well, he asked. Carly could feel Freddie's eyes on her. She played her next card and then wiped a tear from her cheek.

"My dad died," Freddie offered, in an attempt to cheer Carly up.

Carly looked at him, surprised and curious. "When?"

"Before I was born. I never met him, but I'm named after him. He was Freddie, too."

"Do you miss your dad?"

"I don't know. I never knew him." Freddie played his next card. "I just hope my mom doesn't die."

"Is she sick?"

"No, but the world is a dangerous place." He paused before continuing. "And she has panic attacks sometimes. She's had to go to the hospital twice."

Freddie had said very little and what he did say was very matter-of-fact, but Carly was overcome with sympathy for this kid. Her life might be a little depressing, but if (and when) her mom dies at least she'll have had a chance to know her and, therefore, be able to miss her. And she'll still have a dad and Spencer. This poor Freddie had nothing but a crazy mom whose craziness sometimes got the best of her. Plus, she knew a lot of kids at school were mean to him whenever they got the chance. He certainly didn't have the easiest life. She decided then that she would try her best to be nice to him.

It didn't take long for Carly to realize how hard it would be for her to keep her personal promise. Once Mrs. Benson realized her little Freddie wasn't emotionally scarred by having a friend whose mother was deathly ill she made sure to help out in any way possible. She started dropping off and picking up Carly from school, buying groceries and occasionally cleaning up the Shay's apartment.

Carly continued to see Freddie every once in a while as part of this arrangement, and every time the two were together he spent a lot of time admiring Carly, and she spent a lot of time politely putting up with him.

It was the day before winter break that Freddie first professed his love for her. He had finished his homework and Carly could tell he had moved on to studying her.

"Wow, Freddie. How did you finish your homework so fast?"

"It was just math. I'm really good at long division."

"Oh." Carly responded, trying to stay nonchalant.

"Hey, Carly. Will you go out with me?"

The minute she heard the words Carly knew she would be unable to hold back a wince. "That's really sweet, Freddie, but I'm just your friend."

"Oh. Okay. That's cool."

Carly could practically see his heart breaking and tried quickly to undo some of the damage. "But, you could help me with my long division."

"Sure! I'd love to!"

The next two and a half years Carly found it was a lot easier to spend time with Freddie. It was awkward at first to hang out with someone that she had rejected, but after a while she realized it was nice to have it out in the open. She knew Freddie liked her. He knew she wasn't interested. There were no games. It just meant Carly had to put up with an admirer. So that's exactly what she did. She saw Freddie whenever Mrs. Benson watched her, and one year she was in the same class as him. Despite the occasional encounters, however, their relationship remained very superficial.

And then Carly's mom died.

The wake was held at the Shay's apartment. Carly didn't know how the daughter of the deceased was supposed to act or what she was supposed to do, so she just sat in a chair off to the side with her best friend Sam, talking as little as possible. People would come up to her and offer their condolences. She would say "thank you" and wonder how long it would be until they would leave her alone again. The Bensons showed up about a half hour in. Freddie came and sat with her and Sam for a little while as his mom rearranged the guest book table and fluffed every cushion she could find. After twenty minutes Mrs. Benson found Freddie and told him it was time to pay their respects.

When the wake ended only one guest remained. Mrs. Benson was busy picking things up, vacuuming and making sure all the furniture was placed perfectly. She insisted on staying until everything was back to normal. Carly couldn't stand being in the living room with her anymore, so she went upstairs. She had intended to go to her room, but she found herself tackling a second flight of stairs and going up to the third floor instead. The large open room on its own floor was one of the reasons her parents had chosen this apartment as it made a perfect master bedroom for the disabled Mrs. Shay. The large, open area meant there was plenty of room for her to move freely in her wheelchair, and the direct elevator access made it even more convenient.

Carly had no idea what drew her to the third floor at this particular moment. She never liked going up there. It was where illness lived--where death lay in wait. It was so grim to her; a place for her mom to slowly waste away. For whatever reason, Carly found herself standing in that loathsome place. She stood for a moment just staring over the area, her mind blank. Soon, though, she caught a glimpse of the quilt she had made with her mom a few months before. It lay on the chair next to the bed on the opposite side of the room, likely used by her mother the last time she was able to sit up in the chair and read a book. Carly walked over and picked up the blanket and immediately tears started welling in the corners of her eyes. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia struck her, and she ran for the closest exit which led out into a brick stairwell. She was just about to turn to the stairs and run down to her room when she noticed Freddie sitting against the wall, staring forward with a blank expression and tears moistening his cheeks.

"Freddie?"

He looked up slowly, grief etched clearly on his face. Then he looked back down and sniffled.

"What's wrong?"

Freddie's voice wavered and tears continued flowing down his face as he answered. "Why did he have to die?"

At his comment Carly's resolve weakened, and she lost the ability to hold back her own tears. They started flowing freely as she dropped to the floor and scooted against the wall until she was sitting next to Freddie. She looked at him a moment, but his expression hadn't changed. She thought for a moment about how she should react to this situation. She was always careful not to do things that might lead him on. She didn't want to give him false hope. She quickly determined, however, that this was one of those situations that required a different response than usual. She scooted closer to Freddie, grabbed his left hand in her right, and laid her head on his shoulder.

For the next twenty minutes, they sat together like that, each silently grieving their own loss--losses that few of their peers could even imagine but which had already shaped each of their lives in significant ways. It was much later when Carly first considered how many times Freddie might have mourned his father's absence. It was later still that it occurred to her that the day in the stairwell may have been the first time he wasn't alone with his pain. The thought would warm her in the same way Freddie's presence warmed her that night as the two cried outside her mother's bedroom.

When Freddie's mother finally started yelling for him to leave the two got up and started walking down the stairs to the kitchen. Carly was halfway down the staircase when she heard Freddie's voice behind her.

"You dropped this."

Carly turned and saw her mother's quilt draped over Freddie's outstretched arm.

"Thank you," she said as she took it from him.

"You're welcome."

Carly smiled meekly and the two made their way down the stairs, into the apartment, and back to their normal lives.