Sarah kicked herself all the way to school. She hadn't meant to run out on Mrs. Griffin like that; after all, it had been over six months. Everyone she knew had been incredibly supportive, but in the sort of pitying way that annoyed Sarah. She had gone to see a family counselor with Toby after the accident because she hadn't been sure she could explain what had happened in a way he would understand and not blame himself for. After that, she had avoided talking about it.

Her father and stepmother had just picked Toby up from the babysitters and were on the way home when a drunk driver smashed into them at an intersection. Toby had suffered a minor concussion, but both parents had been crushed in the accident. Sarah had returned from a date to find her next door neighbor and two police officers waiting on her front lawn.

She couldn't remember much from the week following the accident. Toby had stayed in the hospital overnight and she had spent the night holding his hand. They had no other family; Toby was all Sarah had left.

Everything was summed up fairly quickly. Her parents were buried two days later and their will left no loopholes. Sarah was made Toby's legal guardian and everything was left to them. Both her father and stepmother had life insurance policies, so she inherited a quick $100,000 that would support the two of them for quite some time.

She had debated long and hard about selling the house. The mortgage was paid off and it was hers free and clear, but the house was full of ghosts. Every knick knack and family picture reminded her that there were only two people now, being swallowed by the big Victorian-style house. Houses in New England don't stay on the market very long, so it wasn't difficult for her to sell it once she'd made up her mind.

The hardest part was cleaning out her parents' room. She had been up late, drinking wine and packing away the last of the photos. She had been putting off even opening their door for over a week, but she knew it had to be done sooner or later. It took a fourth of the bottle for her to muster up enough will, but she took a few deep breaths, grabbed some boxes, and walked in.

For a few minutes all she could do was sit on the end of their bed and look around. The room had more of Karen's touch, but she could still smell her dad's cologne. She started to tear up, but instead took another swallow of the zinfandel and started emptying drawers. The clothes were all going to charity; Toby wouldn't mind and they didn't hold much sentimental value for her. They just hung in the closet, abandoned by their owners.

The task of sorting and packing went by much faster than she had expected. She never realized how quickly one could pack up the remnants of a human life. A few piles of clothes, some knick-knacks, and that was it. She hadn't noticed the rain until a roll of thunder startled her. She heard the windows rattle and she looked up, half-expectant. When she realized that nothing was there, she couldn't explain the vague sense of disappointment she'd felt.

She used part of the money she made from selling the house to buy a cute duplex in a nice, middle-class neighborhood. She had decided to rent out the other half so she could use that to cover their few expenses. That way, she wouldn't have to dip into their savings. Realistically, Sarah realized she would probably not have to worry about money for a long time, if ever, but the idea of raising a child on her own was scary enough. She didn't want to have the threat of debt hanging over her head at any time.

The counselor had noted this extreme prudence early in their sessions.

"Sarah, I want you to be aware of how your actions affect Toby. Yes, be responsible, but don't become paranoid. He picks up on your moods with an accuracy I don't see in many children. He's also like you in that he'll blame himself if he thinks things are going wrong."

"That's the last thing I want! I don't want to make him feel responsible for any of this! I just want to make sure I can always provide for him." Sarah tried to explain herself to this woman examining their lives. How do you explain to a 45-year-old woman that you're trying your best to be an adult when you're so overwhelmed? Sarah had always been very independent, and she liked to think she was a responsible adult. But now, at 19, she was forced to be a kind of parent and her only experience was from the occasional baby-sitting job. At 15 she had screwed up, and she'd learned from it. But there were no magic words to defeat the situation she found herself in now and no guides to help her on her way. The real world presented a whole new challenge and Sarah was determined to meet it as best she could.