"Mattie, wait," Gordie called, jogging to catch up to her about thirty seconds later. "I'll walk you home. In case you run into Ace or something."

"Huh," she grunted, always the diplomat. Looking up at him, still a scowl on her face, she muttered, "Thanks."

"Sure." He smiled. "Plus I thought that was kinda rude of your brother. Denny used to do that to me too."

"Denny was your brother?" she asked, the angry look on her face replaced with a gentle one.

"Yeah, Denny was my brother. He was a lot older than me, and I worshipped him. But he had this whole other life apart from being my big brother, with his friends and girlfriends and whatever, and I'd try and tag along but sometimes he just got tired of me." Gordie shrugged. "Yeah. So that's my story."

Smiling warmly, Mattie nodded. "I liked your story. I probably would have liked Denny too."

"You would have," he agreed. "Everyone did. Everyone still misses him."

She tilted her head at the strange sound in his voice. "I detect a bit of bitterness."

"Maybe," he admitted with a smile. "But not towards Denny."

"Who then?" she asked curiously. "Pretend I'm Jo-Jo's Help Line."

"My parents, I guess," he said, and even as he was speaking, he wasn't sure why he trusted this girl. It wasn't just because she had a pretty smile or because she looked directly at him when they talked, he knew it was something else, but wasn't sure what it was. "And I guess kinda towards myself too."

"Towards yourself?"

Looking like an abused little boy, Gordie looked at her helplessly. "I'm not supposed to think the way I do, so I don't think you'd want to hear about it."

Confused, yet stern, Mattie asked, "Who told you how to think, Gordie?"

Stopping to think for a moment, he rubbed his arm absentmindedly, suddenly feeling how late it was. "Uhhh, everyone, I guess."

She muttered, "Well, that's stupid."

"I mean, I'll try and explain what's going on in my head, and then they'll tell me that it's wrong to think like that."

"Think like what?" she asked, hoping she didn't come across as too prying.

Gordie's voice caught on a moment's thought of hesitation, but he decided what was the worst Mattie could do if he told her? "It shouldn't have been Denny that died."

Mattie nodded. "You mean, it should have been you."

"Yeah. He was the prodigal son, and everyone loved him and ignored me. My parents wouldn't be so sad if I had died instead of Denny."

Mattie looked up at him. She felt vulnerable at his vulnerability. It felt liberating to be able to have a serious talk with someone. No one at home wanted to talk about what was going on. "Gordie, there are people who you mean just as much to as Denny meant to others." She grinned, a little flushed. "That made sense when I was thinking it, but then I said it, and it sounded stupid--"

"It wasn't stupid, Mattie," he told her, sounding harsh. "I don't get how you can say things like that when you hardly know me. How can you even mean it?"

"Because everybody means something to somebody else," she said, not liking her credibility being questioned.

Gordie glanced at her, trying to be discreet. But when he saw how the moonlight made her look so untouchable and new, he didn't look away until she looked back at him in surprise. "Thank you, Mattie…Your mom must have been some lady, hey?"

Startled, she furrowed her eyebrows at him. "What do you mean? What does she have to do with anything?"

"You couldn't have gotten this way without a little help," he said.

"Like what way?"

"Well, for starters, so sad." Gordie offered her a small smile, but she didn't accept it. "And also, so kind, I guess. You've known me for a week but you don't think twice about saying the things no one else knows how to."

She shrugged, but now she was smiling too. "She was sweet. But I'm not like her. She kept my family together without even trying, and I'm trying so hard but everyone's just fallen apart."

"It's not your fault," he promised. He wanted to hold her hand. But he wouldn't. "You've got a bunch of people living together and none of them were ready for her to go, and you're one of those people; you're just as sad. Just because you're the girl doesn't mean you have to try and be like her. People might expect you to take over for her, but don't listen to them. It's not your job. It's not written anywhere. All you have to do is try and be there when someone needs you to be."

"Huh," she muttered. "If I didn't know better, I would say you'd rehearsed that."

Laughing breathily with a tinge of embarrassment, he shook his head. "Just said what came into my head."

"Wow, you're a poet and you didn't even know it."

Gordie beamed at her. "Oh, yes, you kill me Mattie, that was incredibly witty."

"Don't forget it," she giggled. "This is my house." She began to make her way up the front walk of a brick house. "You could come in if you want."

"I'll just walk you to the door," he told her, even though he would have been delighted right out of his Jockeys to do so. "Your dad would probably come home and get the wrong idea."

"My dad will be plastered out of his mind when he comes home, he'll probably think you're Sam or the dog or something." She smiled encouragingly at him, her hand on the door. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," he said. "It's past two. If she's even noticed I'm gone, my mom would be pretty worried."

"Okay." She eased the door open, careful not to wake up her brothers. "Thanks for walking me home, Gordie. Have a good night." When he said goodbye and had started to descend down the sidewalk towards his own house, Mattie closed the door behind her, a large grin on her face. Not tired in the slightest, she ventured into the kitchen to see what late-night snack she could scrounge up.

After ravaging through the cupboards, she decided to make herself a sandwich and some apple cider. As she put the kettle on the stove to boil the water, she heard small footsteps behind her and she whirled around. "Jeepers, Will! You scared the crap out of me."

His baby soft hair was sticking up in all sorts of different directions. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he asked, "What are the cupboards doing open?"

"I was looking for something to eat," she said. "I'm so hungry I could eat a house."

"I don't think you could eat a house because you'd get splinters, right?" He padded over to her. "Where did you go? I wanted to ask you for a drink but I didn't know where you were."

"Sorry, Willie," she said, and reached into one of the cupboards for a cup, and filled it up with milk from the fridge. "Sam and me watched a few movies with a couple of friends."

"I asked Simon for a drink and he said to get it myself but I didn't wanna go downstairs because it was so dark and you or Daddy weren't home." He took a gulp from his milk when Mattie handed him the cup. "I'm scared when it's dark."

Smiling benignly and winking secretively at him, she whispered, "I'm scared of the dark too. Shh, don't tell." As she spread some jam over a piece of bread, she said, "Don't listen to Simon, though. He's just a grump. If he hurts your feelings it's just because his feelings hurt too."

"He hurt my finger today too!" he said indignantly, looking as though he had been very wronged.

"That little bugger." She slapped on the second piece of bread and took a large bite out of it. "That's when you come and get me or Sam, and one of us will beat him up for you."