ELSA'S POV

The motorcycles didn't need to be hidden any further than simply placing them in Honeymaren's shed. Billy's wheelchair couldn't maneuver the uneven ground separating it from the house.

Honeymaren started pulling the first bike—the red one, which was destined for me—to pieces immediately. she opened up the passenger door of the Rabbit so I could sit on the seat instead of the ground. While she worked, Honeymaren chattered happily while I listened eagerly. she updated me on the progress of her junior year of school, running on about her classes and his two best friends.

"Quil and Sven?" I interrupted. "Those are unusual names."

Honeymaren chuckled. "Quil's is a hand-me-down, and I think Sven got named after a soap opera star. I can't say anything, though. They fight dirty if you start on their names—they'll tag team you."

"Good friends." I raised one eyebrow.

"No, they are. Just don't mess with their names."

Just then a call echoed in the distance. "Honeymaren?" someone shouted.

"Is that Billy?" I asked.

"No." Honeymaren ducked her head, and it looked like she was blushing. "Speak of the devil," he mumbled, "and the devil shall appear."

"Maren? Are you out here?" The shouting voice was closer now.

"Yeah!" Honeymaren shouted back, and sighed.

We waited through the short silence until two tall, dark-skinned boys strolled around the corner into the shed.

One was slender, and almost as tall as Honeymaren. His black hair was chin-length and parted down the middle, one side tucked behind his left ear while the right side swung free. The shorter boy was more burly. His white T-shirt strained over his well-developed chest, and he seemed gleefully conscious of that fact. His hair was so short it was almost a buzz.

Both boys stopped short when they saw me. The thin boy glanced swiftly back and forth between Kristoff and me, while the brawny boy kept his eyes on me, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, guys," Honeymaren , greeted them halfheartedly.

"Hey, Honeymaren," the short one said without looking away from me. I had to smile in response, his grin was so impish. When I did, he winked at me. "Hi, there."

"Quil, Sven—this is my friend, Elsa."

Quil and Sven, I still didn't know which was which, exchanged a loaded look.

"Agnarr's kid, right?" the brawny boy asked me, holding out his hand.

"That's right," I confirmed, shaking hands with him. His grasp was firm; it looked like he was flexing his bicep.

"I'm Quil Ateara," he announced grandly before releasing my hand.

"Nice to meet you, Quil."

"Hey, Elsa. I'm Sven, Sven Call—you probably already figured that out, though." Sven smiled a shy smile and waved with one hand, which he then shoved in the pocket of his jeans.

I nodded. "Nice to meet you, too."

"So what are you guys doing?" Quil asked, still looking at me.

"Elsa and I are going to fix up these bikes," Kristoff explained inaccurately. I would not touch the bikes for fear of messing something up. But the boys seemed instantly fascinated by Honeymaren's project, examining the bikes and drilling Honda with educated questions. Many of the words they used were unfamiliar to me, but their excitement was infectious and I smiled watching them.

They were still immersed in talk of parts and pieces when I decided that I needed to head back home before Agnarr showed up here. With a sigh, I slid out of the Rabbit.

Honeymaren looked up, apologetic. "We're boring you, aren't we?"

"Not at all." And it wasn't a lie. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. "I just have to go cook dinner for David."

"Oh… well, I'll finish taking these apart tonight and figure out what more we'll need to get started rebuilding them. When do you want to work on them again?"

"Could I come back tomorrow?" Sundays were always painfully slow days. There was never enough homework to keep me busy.

Quil nudged Sven's arm and they exchanged grins.

Honeymaren smiled in delight. "That would be great!"

"If you make a list, we can go shop for parts," I suggested.

Honeymaren's face well a little. "I'm still not sure I should let you pay for everything."

I shook my head. "No way. I'm bankrolling this party. You just have to supply the labor and expertise."

Sven rolled his eyes at Quil.

"That doesn't seem right," Honeymaren shook her head.

"Honeymaren, if I took these to a mechanic, how much would he charge me?" I pointed out.

she smiled. "Okay, you're getting a deal."

"Not to mention the riding lessons," I added.

Quil grinned widely at Sven and whispered something I didn't catch. Honeymaren's hand flashed out to smack the back of Quil's head. "That's it, get out," she muttered.

"No, really, I have to go," I protested. I pulled Honeymaren in a hug before heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Honeymaren."

As soon as I was out of sight, I heard Quil and Sven chorus, "Wooooo!"

The sound of a brief scuffle followed, interspersed with an "ouch" and a "hey!"

"If either of you set so much as one toe on my land tomorrow…" I heard Honeymaren threaten. His voice was lost as I walked through the trees.

I giggled quietly. I was surprised by how giddy I felt and how effortless it was. I laughed again, to myself, enjoying the feelings.

I beat Agnarr's home. When he walked in I was just taking the fried chicken out of the pan and laying it on a pile of paper towels.

"Hey, Dad." I flashed a grin.

Surprise flitted across his face before he pulled his expression together. "Hey, kiddo," he said, his voice uncertain. "Did you have fun with Maren?"

I started moving the food to the table. "Yeah, I did."

"Well, that's good." He was still cautious. "What did you two do?"

Now it was my turn to be cautious. "I hung out in his garage and watched him work. Did you know he's rebuilding a Volkswagen? A 1986 Rabbit."

"Yeah, I think Billy mentioned that."

The questions stopped when Agnarr began chewing, but he continued to study my face as he ate.

After dinner, I dithered around, cleaning the kitchen twice, and then did my homework in the front room with Agnarr while he watched a hockey game. I hadn't noticed how late it was getting until Agnarr mentioned the hour. I set my homework aside and stretched and followed him up the stairs.

As I climbed the stairs I became nervous about what sleep held for me. The good feelings from the afternoon couldn't last forever and I was worried about the prospect of the nightmare. Agnarr wished me a good night, then disappeared into his room. I brushed my teeth and washed my face and headed into my room. I didn't bother putting on pajamas, just kicked of my jeans and threw my shirt in the corner.

I lay down on my bed and curled up with my quilt wrapped tightly around me, ready for the dream. I squeezed my eyes shut and… the next thing I knew, it was morning.

I stared at the pale silver light coming through my window, stunned.

For the first time in more than four months, I'd slept without dreaming. I couldn't tell which emotion was stronger—the relief or shock.

I still lay in my bed for a few minutes, unsure of how to proceed. I thought maybe my brain was playing some sort of trick on me—that I was still dreaming. But I was awake, and I felt more rested than I had in a long time.

I eagerly jumped out of bed, excited for the day. This was a good sign and I was hopeful for the rest of the day. I showered and dressed quickly, I was excited to see Honeymaren. I was in such a rush because I was almost afraid that the feeling wouldn't last, that I would hit a slump and lose my enthusiasm. I needed to be careful, though; I didn't want to think about that too much. I wanted to believe that things were getting better.

At breakfast, Agnarr was being careful, too. she tried to hide his scrutiny, keeping her eyes on his eggs until she thought I wasn't looking.

"What are you up to today?" she asked, eyeing a loose thread on the edge of his cuff like he wasn't paying much attention to my answer.

"I'm going to hang out with Honeymaren again."

she nodded without looking up. "Oh," he said.

"Is that ok?" I asked. "I could stay…"

He glanced up quickly, a hint of panic in his eyes. "No, no! You go ahead. Harry was going to come up to watch the game with me anyway."

"Maybe Harry could give Billy a ride up," I suggested, helpfully.

"That's a great idea."

I wasn't sure if the game was just an excuse for kicking me out, but he looked excited enough now. He fiddled with her phone while I donned my rain jacket. I felt self-conscious with the checkbook shoved in my jacket pocket. It was something I never used but the thought of writing checks made me feel grown-up and rich.

Outside, the rain came down like water slopped from a bucket. I had to drive more slowly than I wanted to; I could hardly see a car length in front of the truck. But I finally made it through the muddy lanes to Honeymaren's house. Before I'd killed the engine, the front door opened and Honeymaren came running out with a huge black umbrella.

she held it over my door while I opened it.

"Agnarr called—said you were on your way," Honeymaren explained with a grin.

Instantly, my answering smile spread across my face. A strange feeling of warmth bubbled up in my throat, despite the icy rain splattering on my cheeks. I practically had to jump to throw my arms around Honeymaren's neck and hug her tightly.

"Hi, Honeymaren."

"Hi, Elsa." she laughed.

When I unlocked my grip on his neck he grinned widely.

"Good call on inviting Billy up." He held up his hand for a high five.

I had to reach so high to slap his hand that he laughed.

Harry showed up to get Billy just a few minutes later. Kristoff took me on a brief tour of his tiny room while we waited for them to leave.

"So where to, Mr. Goodwrench?" I asked as soon as he door closed behind Billy.

Honeymaren pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out. "We'll start at the dump first, see if we can get lucky. This could get a little expensive," she warned me. "Those bikes are going to need a lot of help before they'll run again." My face didn't look worried enough, so she continued. "I'm talking about maybe more than a hundred dollars here."

I pulled my checkbook out, fanned myself with it, and rolled my eyes at her worries. "We're covered."

It was a very strange kind of day. Even at the dump, in the slopping rain and ankle-deep mud, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I never thought I'd have fun at a dump, but here I was.

I was beginning to think it was mostly Honeymaren. It wasn't just that he was always so happy to see me, or that she didn't watch me out of the corner of her eye, waiting for me to do something that would mark me as unstable or depressed. I didn't think it was related to me at all.

It was Honeymaren herself. Honeymaren was simply a perpetually happy person, and she carried that happiness with her like an aura, sharing it with whoever was near him. Like an earthbound sun, whenever someone was within his gravitational pull, Honeymaren warmed them. It was natural, a part of who she was. No wonder I was so eager to see her

Even when she commented on the shiny stereo in my dashboard, it didn't bother me like I thought it would have.

"That's a nice stereo," she whistled.

"It's okay," I shrugged.

she poked a few of the buttons and fiddled with the dials. "You don't have any preset radio stations?"

"Honestly, I don't know how to work it," I admitted sheepishly. "Last time I messed with it I only got static for a week."

laughed. "Maybe you shouldn't touch the motorcycles too much."

"No problem."

According to Honeymaren, we did get lucky at the dump. she was very excited about several grease-blackened pieces of twisted metal that she found; I was impressed that she could tell what they were supposed to be.

From there we went to Checker Auto Parts down in Hoquiam. In my truck, it was more than a two hour drive south on the winding freeway, but the time passed easily with Honeymaren. she chattered about her friends and school, and I curiously asked questions eager to hear more of what he had to say.

"I'm doing all the talking," he complained after a long story about Quil and the trouble he'd stirred up by asking out a senior's steady girlfriend. "Why don't you take a turn? What's going on in Forks? It has to be more exciting than La Push."

"Not quite," I rolled my eyes. "There's not much to do in Forks. My friend Jeremy and I had to go all the way to Port Angeles just to catch a movie. He's been texting me all day asking me questions about you and your friends."

"Uh oh. Should I be worried?" Honeymaren asked warily.

I grinned, "Not at all. I like your friends. Quil's funny."

she frowned. "I think Quil likes you, too."

I laughed. "He's a little young for me."

Honeymaren's frown deepened. "He's not that much younger than you. It's just a year, if that."

I had a feeling we weren't talking about Quil anymore. I didn't know what to say, so I kept my voice light, teasing. "Sure, but you have to keep in mind the maturity levels here—don't you have to count that in dog years or something? What does that make me, about twelve years older?"

she laughed, rolling her eyes. "Okay, but if you're going to get picky like that, you have to average in size, too. You're so small, I'll have to knock ten years off your total."

"Five-foot-four is pretty average." I sniffed. "It's not my fault you're a freak."

"Are you sure you're even that tall?" she teased, laughing.

We bantered like that till Hoquiam, still arguing over the correct formula to determine age—I lost two more years because I didn't know how to change a tire, but gained one back for being in charge of the bookkeeping at my house—until we were in Checker, and Honeymaren had to concentrate again. We found everything left on her list, and Honeymaren felt confident that he could make a lot of progress with our haul.

By the time we got back to La Push, I was twenty-three and he was thirty—she was definitely weighting skills in her favor.

I had practically forgotten the reason for what we were doing. I was enjoying myself far too much. I still wanted to fuel my craving for reckless adrenaline pumping fun, but it wasn't as important to me now. I had almost forgotten about all my frustration with broken promises. Getting to spend time with Kristoff was too much fun for me to think about anything else.

Billy wasn't back yet, so we didn't have to be sneaky about unloading our day's spoils. As soon as we had everything laid out on the plastic floor next to Honeymaren's toolbox, he went right to work, still talking and laughing while his fingers combed expertly through the metal pieces in front of him.

Honeymaren's skill with her hands was fascinating. They looked too big for the delicate tasks they performed with ease and precision. While he worked, he seemed almost graceful. Unlike when he was on her feet; there, her height and big feet made him nearly as awkward and clumsy as I was.

Quil and Sven did not show up, so maybe his threat yesterday had been taken seriously.

The day passed too quickly. It got dark outside the mouth of the garage before I was expecting it, and then we heard Billy calling for us.

I jumped up to help Honeymaren put things away, hesitating because I wasn't sure what I should touch.

"Just leave it," she said. "I'll work on it later tonight."

"Don't forget your schoolwork or anything," I said, feeling a little guilty. I didn't want him to get in trouble.

"Elsa?"

Both our heads snapped up as Agnarr's familiar voice wafted through the trees, sounding closer than the house.

"Shoot," I muttered. "Coming!" I yelled toward the house.

"Let's go." Honeymaren smiled, enjoying the cloak-and-dagger. she snapped the light off, and for a moment I was blind. Honeymaren grabbed my hand and towed me out of the garage and through the trees, his feet finding the familiar path easily. His hand was rough, and very warm, but gentle.

Despite the path, we were both tripping over our feet in the darkness. So we were also both laughing when the house came into view.

Agnarr was standing under the little back porch, and Billy was sitting in the doorway behind him.

"Hey, Dad," we both said at the same time, and that started us laughing again.

Agnarr stared at me with wide eyes that flashed down to note Honeymaren's hand around mine. I looked down myself and realized at some point our fingers had laced together. I didn't remember doing that, but I didn't remember not doing it either. I was kind of surprised that I didn't mind it.

"Billy invited us for dinner," Agnarr said to us in an absentminded tone.

"My super secret recipe for spaghetti. Handed down for generations," Billy said gravely.

Honeymaren snorted. "I don't think Ragu's actually been around that long."

The house was crowded. Harry Clearwater was there, too, with his family—his wife, Sue, whom I knew vaguely from my childhood summers in Forks, and his two children. Liam was a senior like me, but a year older. He was absolutely beautiful—perfect copper skin, long glistening black hair, long eyelashes—and preoccupied. He was on Billy's phone when we got in, and he never let it go. Olaf was fourteen; he hung on Honeymaren's every word with idolizing eyes.

There were too many of us for the kitchen table, so Agnarr and Harry brought chairs out to the yard, and we ate spaghetti off plates on our laps in the dim light from Billy's open door. The dads talked about the game, and Harry and Agnarr made fishing plans. Sue teased her husband about his cholesterol and tried, unsuccessfully, to shame him into eating something green and leafy. Honeymaren talked mostly to me and Olaf, who interrupted eagerly whenever Honeymaren seemed in danger of forgetting him. Agnarr watched me, trying to be inconspicuous about it, with pleased but cautious eyes.

It was loud and sometimes confusing as everyone talked over everyone else, and the laughter from one joke interrupted the telling of another. I didn't have to speak often, but I smiled a lot, feeling content and happy.

I didn't want to leave.

This was Washington, though, and the inevitable rain eventually broke up the party; Billy's living room was much too small to provide an option for continuing the get-together. I reluctantly hugged Honeymaren goodbye, and we made plans of when we'd see each other next. Harry had driven Agnarr down, so we rode together in my truck on the way back home. He asked about my day, and I told mostly the truth—that I'd gone with Honeymaren to look at parts and then watched him work in her garage.

"You think you'll visit again anytime soon?" she wondered, trying to be casual about it.

"Tomorrow after school," I admitted. "I'll take homework, don't worry."

"You be sure to do that," she ordered, trying to disguise her satisfaction.

I felt a strange sense of longing by the time we got home. I already missed Honeymaren; I missed her warmth and her smile.

To distract myself, I checked my e-mail; there was a new message from Iduna.

She wrote about her day, a new book club that she had just joined, her mediation classes, her week subbing in the second grade, missing her kindergarteners. She wrote that Phil was enjoying his new coaching job, and that they were planning a second honeymoon trip to Disney World.

And I noticed that the whole thing read like a journal entry, rather than a letter to someone else. Remorse flooded through me, leaving an uncomfortable sting behind. Some daughter I was.

I wrote back to her quickly, commenting on each part of her letter, telling her about the spaghetti party at Billy's and how I felt watching Honeymaren build useful things out of small pieces of metal—awed and slightly envious. I made no reference to the change this letter would be from the ones she'd received in the last several months. I could barely remember what I'd written to her even as recently as last week, but I was sure it wasn't very responsive. The more I thought about it, the guiltier I felt; I really must have worried her. I ended my letter with a promise to call her soon.

I stayed up extra late after that, finishing as much homework as I could. That way I could pay more attention to Honeymaren tomorrow. I drifted off to sleep, but even thoughts of Honeymaren could keep the dream away for two nights in a row.

I woke shuddering, covered in a cold sweat.

As the dim morning light filtered through the fog outside my window, I lay still in bed and tried to shake off the dream. There had been a small difference last night, and I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Last night I had not been alone in the woods. Kristoff Uley—the man who had pulled me from the forest floor that night that awful night—was there. It was an odd, unexpected alteration. The man's dark eyes had been surprisingly unfriendly, filled with some secret he didn't seem inclined to share. I'd stared at him as often as my frantic searching had allowed; it made me uncomfortable, under all the usual panic, to have there. Maybe that was because, when I didn't look directly at him, his shape seemed to shiver and change in my peripheral vision. Yet he did nothing but stand and watch. Unlike the time when we had met in reality, he did not offer me his help.

Agnarr stared at me during breakfast, and I tried not to mind. I supposed I couldn't blame him. I couldn't expect him not to worry. It would probably be weeks before he stopped watching for the return of the zombie. He hadn't seen me so happy in months, so it wasn't surprising that he was wary. I was wary too, my new-found happiness almost seemed too good to last.

School was finally back to normal, back to the way it had been before.

I remembered the first day I'd come to Forks High School—how desperately I'd wished that I could turn gray, fade into the wet concrete of the sidewalk like an oversized chameleon. It seemed stupid and childish looking back on it.

Time crawled by; I was so eager to go out to La Push I could barely pay attention all morning. By the time I got to Calculus I thought the day would never end.

Jeremy was practically bouncing in his sit when I sat down.

"Hey, Jeremy" I smiled. "How was the rest of your weekend?"

"How was my weekend?" He rolled his eyes, "How was yours?"

There was an almost suggestive tone to his voice.

"What do you mean?" I raised an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes again. "Come on, Elsa. You've been texting me non-stop for two days about your new friends."

I shrugged. "Well, mostly it's just one friend."

"Mmmhmmm," he grinned. "Honeymaren, right?"

"Yeah, Maren is really great." I smiled, more to myself than him.

He burst into a fit of giggles and I stared at him, confused.

The lecture started and he wouldn't say anything more, he just smiled and watched me from the corner of his eye. He waved goodbye and dashed away after class ended before I could question his interrogation.

My fourth hour class got out late, and the lunch table I always sat at was full by the time I arrived. Makayla was there, Jeremy and Angela, Conner, Tyler, Eric, Lauren and Logan. Katie Marshall, the redheaded junior who lived around the corner from me, was sitting with Eric, and Austin Marks—older brother to the boy with the motorcycles—was sitting next to her. I wondered how long they'd been sitting here, unable to remember if this was the first day or something that was a regular habit. I felt bad that I didn't know.

I was beginning to get annoyed with myself. I might as well have been packed in Styrofoam peanuts through the last semester.

Everyone greeted me loudly when I sat down next to Makayla, and I tried to catch up with the conversations.

Makayla and Conner were talking sports, so I gave up on that one at once.

"Where's Ben today?" Lauren was asking Angela. I perked up, interested. I wondered if that meant Angela and Ben were still together.

I barely recognized Lauren. She'd cut off all her blond, corn-silk hair—now she had a fashionable bob cut. She looked fantastic.

"Ben's got the stomach flu," Angela said her quiet, calm voice. "Hopefully it's just some twenty-four-hour thing. He was really sick last night."

Angela had changed her hair, too. She'd grown out her layers.

"What did you two do this weekend?" Logan asked, not sounding as if he cared about the answer. Glad to see he was as unpleasant as ever.

"We were going to have a picnic Saturday, actually, but… we changed our minds," Angela said. There was an edge to her voice that caught my interest.

Logan, not so much. "That's too bad," he said, about to launch into a story of his own. But I wasn't the only one who was paying attention.

"What happened?" Lauren asked curiously. Logan shot her a dirty look.

"Well," Angela said, seeming more hesitant than usual, though she was always reserved, "we drove up north, almost to the hot springs—there's a good spot just about a mile up the trail. But, when we were halfway there… we saw something."

"Saw something? What?" Lauren's grew wide. Even Logan seemed to be listening now.

"I don't know," Angela said. "We think it was a bear. It was black, anyway, but it seemed… too big."

Logan snorted. "Oh, not you, too!" His eyes turned mocking, and I had an urge to 'accidentally' throw my drink at him. "Tyler tried to sell me that one last week."

"You're not going to see any bears that close to the resort," Eric piped up, siding with Logan.

"Really," Angela protested in a low voice, looking down at the table. "We did see it."

Logan snickered. Makayla was still talking to Conner, not paying attention.

"No, she's right," I threw in impatiently. "We had a hiker in just Saturday who saw the bear, too, Angela. He said it was huge and black and just outside of town, didn't he Makayla?"

There was moment of silence. Every pair of eyes at the table turned to stare at me in surprise. The new girl, Katie, had her mouth hanging opened like she'd just witnessed an explosion. Jeremy was the only one who didn't look surprised. Nobody else moved. Apparently they didn't think I was quite up to talking yet—just showing up and smiling.

"Makayla?" I nudged her. "Remember the guy with the bear story?"

"S-sure," Makayla stuttered after a second. They were really shocked by me participating in the conversation, I guess. Clearly, Jeremy hadn't told them about Friday night.

Makayla recovered. "Yeah, there was a guy who said he saw a huge black bear right at the trailhead—bigger than a grizzly," she confirmed.

"Hmph." Logan turned to Eric, his shoulders stiff, and started muttering about something else.

"Jeremy, did you hear back from USC?" Lauren asked Jeremy, changing the subject.

Everyone else went back to their conversations, except for Makayla and Angela. Angela smiled at me tentatively, and I enthusiastically returned the smile.

"So, what did you do this weekend, Elsa?" Makayla asked, curious, but oddly wary.

Everyone but Logan looked back, waiting for my response.

"Friday night, Jeremy and I went to a movie in Port Angeles. And then I spent Saturday afternoon and most of Sunday down at La Push."

Jeremy immediately burst to life. "It was great! I was like, totally surprised when Anna wanted to go but of course I was super excited!" He had clearly been eager to tell the Port Angeles story.

"What movie did you see?" Makayla asked, starting to smile.

"Dead End—the one with the zombies." I grinned. I was relieved that everyone, besides Jeremy, was warming back up to me. Maybe some of the damage I'd done in the past few months was reparable.

"I heard that was scary. Did you think so?" Makayla was eager to continue the conversation.

"I was pretty freaked. I couldn't even eat my popcorn." I admitted.

"It was terrifying!' Jeremy explained. "But, our little Elsa winters has turned into a badass in the last four months." He proclaimed proudly.

Inquisitive looks from everyone at the table prompted Jeremy to launch into the story, recounting the entire encounter with the guys at the bar. Everyone seemed fairly impressed by my show of bravado. Makayla kept interrupting Jeremy to ask me questions, much to his annoyance. One he had finished his story the conversations gradually split up. Angela talked mostly to me, and, when I got up to dump my tray, she followed.

"Thanks," she said in a low voice when we were away from the table.

"For what?"

"Speaking up, sticking up for me."

"No problem."

She looked at me with concern, but not the offensive, maybe-she's-lost-it kind. "Are you okay?"

Angela had always been more perceptive than my other friends, and I couldn't lie to her.

"Not completely," I admitted. "But I'm getting better."

"I'm glad," she said. "I've missed you."

Logan and Lauren strolled by us then, and I heard Logan whisper loudly, "Oh, joy, Anna's back."

Lauren quickly smacked his arm, shooting him a dirty look. Angela rolled her eyes at Logan, and smiled at me in encouragement.

I sighed. Some things never change.

"What's today's date?" I wondered suddenly.

"It's January nineteenth."

"Hmm."

"What is it?" Angela asked.

"It was a year ago yesterday that I had my first day here," I mused.

"Looks like it's a first day all over again," Angela smiled encouragingly.

"I guess it is," I agreed. "A fresh, clean start."