And now we're back to Alex...

Within a week I had discovered my mission. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had been going on in Tristan's life. From the way he avoided people at school, I realised he'd never had a true friend. He was busy a lot of the time, so I came to understand his family put him through a lot of chores. And finally, from his awkwardness at playing make-believe I started to wonder what his childhood had really been like and if he'd even had one at all.

In the end, it was my mission to make Terabithia a place for him to escape to. A place where he could be whoever he wanted to be and do whatever he wanted to do. A sanctuary of sorts. We started visiting it every afternoon. First, we cleaned the Castle Stronghold. We kept all the pictures and stories, but added ones of our own to the mix. The old tins were thrown away and I contributed new ones filled with dry fruit and biscuits. Tristan asked me what on Earth we would need that for, so I told him in my most queenly voice, "In case we are under attack and must retreat to the stronghold, where we are held prisoner for many a month."

Tristan snorted, but he played along none the less. I knew that whatever he said out loud, he secretly liked being King of the forest beyond the creek.

I decided a small amount of redecorating was in order. I strung a sheet across the entrance to the stronghold and set about planting a garden around it. One afternoon I brought my digital camera and took photos of me and Tristan. The next day I printed them out and hung them by the picture of Leslie and Jess. Tristan came up with the idea of drawing our own version of the map. This took almost two weeks to complete as we explored every inch of our kingdom to make sure we got the detail right. The Grove of Pines was directly behind the stronghold and to the left there was a small brook with its own miniature bubbling waterfall.

Mum (who I had again begun to call Carly) was not in the least bit fretted by the way I spent all my time outside, but she was extremely curious. Tristan and I had decided long ago not to tell anyone about Terabithia, so sometimes it was quite difficult to answer her questions.

"What can two kids do every afternoon?"

"Explore," I answered truthfully.

"Every afternoon?"

"Yes, Carly," I answered patiently.

One weekend, Carly forced me to invite Tristan over for dinner. It was every sort of awkward as I had only just begun to grasp at the bare bones of Tristan's family's financial situation. Carly and I made sure he felt right at home but I could tell he was eyeing our huge stereo system and the many paintings that adorned our walls. Once or twice while eating dinner, Carly and I would forget and discuss something political or musical and Tristan's awkwardness would reach breaking point. We hastily changed the subject.

After dinner, I sat with Tristan in the living room. Even he could appreciate the way in which the sun hit the golden walls, lighting everything up. Maybe it gave him courage, because his next question hit me completely left of centre.

"How rich are you?"

"Pardon," I choked through my lemonade.

"How rich are you? What does your Mum do?"

I put my glass down. As abrupt as the questions were, it seemed only fair to answer them.

"My father was in the army. He was a high-ranking general and was forever improving his position. It meant we moved around England a lot but the houses we lived in – well, they were more like mansions. In her own right, Carly –"

"Carly?"

"My Mum."

"Why do you call her that?"

"Habit, I guess. Anyway, she was a big time magazine editor and was also paid lots of money to write articles for other papers and magazines. However, she knew that a family was important and did most of her work at home so that she could raise me properly. My father made no such change in his work ethic. In fact, there came a time when he had saved up almost a year's leave and in any sense he even could have retired, but he just kept taking on more and more work. Carly would often fight with him about this and the fact we was never around didn't help. By the time I was ten they had broken up."

I took a breath and let the memory wash over me. It didn't make me sad as such; it just made me wonder what things would be like if everything had turned out differently. I would still be in England with an un-broken family for one. But then I would have never met Tristan and had a chance to be a true Queen.

Tristan was waiting patiently for me to continue. I gave him a reassuring smile, allowed myself a few more seconds of contemplation and then continued with my story.

"Mum gained full custody and for the first time in my life, I stayed in one house for almost three years. Her magazine reached strength after strength and coupled with the share in my father's fortune she had won, we were well off."

"You were rich."

I shrugged and screwed up my nose. I didn't like that word. "Then, about – what would it be now? Two months ago, Carly decided it was time for a complete change of scenery. She took leave in case she wants to return and we moved to America to 'reassess our value structure'."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"Well, my family is certainly nothing like yours. Then again, Dad's never home, he drives to Washington everyday to work. Mum is always grumpy. My three sisters –"

"Three sisters? I've only ever seen Ella-Beth."

"Oh right. Well, Ella-Beth is OK, but the other two annoy me. Lillian is in high school and she spends most of her time on the internet or on the phone. That's why you never see her. And Chelsea is at college in Washington. She was alright but she's up herself, she thinks she knows everything. It was kinda annoying."

"Oh," I said. I really had no idea what else to say. "Being the only boy must be good sometimes though?"

"Yeah," said Tristan slowly, then he changed his mind. "No, it's not. I have to do all the chores and take care of myself and play with Ella-Beth. And whenever we get something new it's always for Lillian or Chelsea and there's never enough money and –"

Tristan stopped mid-sentence and looked exceptionally embarrassed.

"It's OK," I reminded him, "I'm not going to say anything to anyone."

"I just wish I had a bit more power sometimes, I guess."

"Oh but you do," I said and lowered my voice to a whisper. "You're a King, remember?"

And for the first time, Tristan didn't laugh or make comment. He actually looked generally happy with the idea. "Yeah...King."

We sat in silence for a while before he spoke up again.

"Hey Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks – for everything. For listening and being my friend and –" here he too consciously lowered his voice – "helping me discover Terabithia."

"You welcome, my King," is said, raising my lemonade glass in a mock toast. Tristan raised his and we clinked them together.

"And to you, my Queen."

"And to Terabithia."

"To many more adventures."

"To the stronghold."

"To lemonade."

"To friendship," I added, trying not to sound too corny.

"To friendship," agreed Tristan.

"Kids! Time for dessert!"

We laughed all the way back to the dining room.

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