For the next week, Sammy allowed Allison to tuck him into his own bed. She would kiss him on the forehead and stroke his hair and look at him with an expression on her face that he couldn't identify. On the first night she said quietly, "He's left me with the best gift anyone could ever give to another human being," and he knew she was talking about him. It made him feel guilty enough that he stayed in his bed until he was sure she was asleep before climbing out his window.

It was raining again, of course, and he was immediately drenched. With only four steps, not only his feet but his ankles and the hem of his flannel pants were covered in mud. And he was frozen by the time he saw Leah's house, but he hardly cared. He could see the her outline in the window. She was waiting for him. His muddy feet slipped on the trellis but he caught himself before he fell, and then he was soaking her comforter, her bed, and Leah herself, and tracking mud behind him. Again. This time he didn't care at all.

They didn't speak. He hadn't said a word to her earlier in the day, either, when she had sheltered him from the world in her arms, in her treehouse, in this place he hadn't wanted to leave. He had just clung to her until she asked, "Did she get hurt?" and he shook his head. She had relaxed marginally, but neither had let go.

They hadn't separated until they heard Seth calling, "Lee? Lee? Mommy? Daddy?" through the window that Leah had left open.

Sam hadn't known what to do with himself when she climbed down, but she had reassured him she'd be right back, and she hadn't lied. She returned only minutes later with Seth in tow but left him in the yard. She had known Sammy didn't want to talk to anyone or see her little brother, so she devised a game in which she sent him back to the house again and again to find increasingly obscure objects to carry out to the basket, which she then pulled into the treehouse. And every time she moved in from the entrance she'd sit by his side and nudge his arm with hers, or put her head on his shoulder, or lace his fingers in hers. But then Seth would come out again.

But now they were alone and he wouldn't have to let go until morning. So he didn't, and neither did she.

Sue didn't bother mentioning the mud all over Leah's bed the next morning, but she did pull off the dirty comforter and replace it with a tattered one, and before bedtime she tossed an old towel on top, right under the window.

By the third night, he realized that he could walk out the front door with an umbrella in hand and galoshes on his feet instead of climbing through his window in his socks. Joshua was neither drunk in the living room nor sober in the kitchen, and his mother was practically locked in her room.

X-x-x-x-X

The days were different than the nights. He walked to school with Leah and Seth, but as soon as he saw the boys standing in front of the building, he thoughtlessly widened the gap between them. He kind of wanted her to stop him when he realized what he was doing, but when her mouth dropped open in surprise while saying nothing to bring him back, he jogged ahead and tried to pretend everything was fine. And among the boys, pretending everything was fine consisted of not being friends with Leah. So when Austin accused him of walking to school with his girlfriend, he scoffed and said that she lived on his way to school, and he didn't want her around, but how could he stop her from walking near him? He wasn't going to cross to the other side of the street just because she came out of her house when he walked by. His pulse pounded in his ears as he felt her staring at his back. She could hear him, couldn't she? Bile burned at the back of his throat, and he swallowed it back hastily.

A week after Joshua left, Sammy fell asleep in his own bed while waiting for his mother to go to sleep, so he didn't see LeeLee that night. And then Allison started staying up later and later. The next night, Sammy lay in bed listening to the old timey music that Allison had turned on. It was the kind of thing that Joshua might have used as an excuse to wrap her in his arms and spin her around the room. It sounded like the music that was the soundtrack to the happy family moments that Sammy remembered.

He missed his father. And then he hated himself for it. He felt guilty for driving him away. And then he felt guilty for that. He wished he hadn't lost his temper, because Joshua might be dancing with Allison in the living room this very moment. And then he felt guilty for that too.

He wished he hadn't told his father that he did absolutely everything wrong, because he had done some things right, and maybe he could have told Joshua to focus on remembering the good things and not the bad. Maybe he could have helped instead of just driving him away. Maybe he would have... Maybe he could have... Maybe he should have...

The what-ifs drove him crazy, and he wanted nothing more than to forget them by running to LeeLee and letting her hug the confusion out of him. But he felt compelled to stay home while there was still a chance that his mother might peek in on him, so he fell asleep in his own bed the next night, and then the next, and then the next. But every time he woke the following morning, he felt as if he had slept only an hour or two before being rudely awakened.

At school, he did his best to ignore her. Doing otherwise only resulted in the Austin and Roy harassing both of them, so what was the point? He couldn't stomach saying nasty things about her; it made him want to throw up. It wasn't as if he wanted her to get teased in school because of him. And he really didn't think he could handle it if they started saying nasty things about him either. So he hoped that just pretending she wasn't there would be the next best thing. But still he felt nauseated all the time, queasy, as if his stomach were filled with live worms. And sometimes the worms felt like they were making their way outward, radiating to his chest, down his legs, along his arms. Sometimes he looked down at his skin, certain he would see it crawling with serpentine masses just under the surface, and was shocked to find that everything was still.

The sensation got worse and worse and worse. It exhausted him to the point of distraction. From time to time it overwhelmed his senses, and he would look up and find LeeLee staring at him with disappointment or sadness on her face. Looking away from her only made it worse.

Five nights passed until Sammy finally made his way to Leah's house again. He hadn't seen a real smile out of her in days, and before his self-imposed exile, he had never gone so long without sleeping at her side. He had a feeling that if only she would smile at him or touch his hand, the crawling under his skin would disappear. The night was uncommonly clear, and the moment his mother left his room after tucking him in, he sat up in bed to prevent himself from falling asleep.

As soon as his mother closed her bedroom door, Sammy was gone. He didn't bother waiting for her to actually go to bed. He needed his LeeLee. He pulled on a sweatshirt and stuck his feet into the first pair of shoes he could find and was out the door.

Since the moon shone brightly, he was able to see much better than he usually could. So he was able to see that her curtains were closed before he actually climbed up to her roof. He sped up when he saw it, nervous. He had never, not once, known her shades to be closed. During the day, she wanted as much light as the weak Washington sun provided, and at nighttime she kept the path between them as clear as she could.

And yet, he was shocked when he scrambled up to the roof and she didn't have the window open by the time he reached it. But he was crushed when he tugged at the bottom of the sill and the window didn't budge.

His jaw dropped open. She had locked him out, and for the first time in their entire lives, didn't even allow him to see her face. And he was certain she was right on the other side. Probably less than one foot away. He put his hand on the glass, fully expecting her hand to part the curtains and press her hand in a mirror image outline against his own.

But nothing happened.

The curtains didn't move, the window didn't open, and she didn't reach for his hand. He knocked on the glass, but there was no response.

He was at a complete and utter loss. This was... this was... Awful? Unthinkable? Horrific? Impossible? This was... this was... This was all his fault.

He had hurt her. He was still hurting her. He was using her. Taking from her what he needed and giving nothing in return but heartache and sorrow. He was a terrible friend and a bad person.

He was just like his father.

He had to fix it. There had to be something he could do, because he couldn't lose her. The months he had spent without her were unbearable. He couldn't do it again. Not now, not ever, not knowing it wasn't going to get better. He had to get to her and give her the biggest apology anybody ever gave anybody else, and then he'd hold her tight and never let go. If only he could get inside and talk to her!

And then he remembered. The key! He practically jumped off the roof. He sprinted back to his house and threw the front door open, not bothering to close it behind him. He skidded to a stop in front of his bed and threw the covers up, frantically sliding his hand between the mattress and the bedspring.

Where was it? It had to be here! He shoved his hand in all the way, pressing his cheek against the bed and stretching his arm as far as it would go. Nothing. No. No! NO! This couldn't be happening! The best thing in his whole life, and he was ruining it, and he had to fix it before it was completely broken! He finally stood and lifted up the mattress, grunting against the weight.

Nothing.

He knelt on the floor, too stunned and desperate to cry.

"Sammy?" A gentle hand landed on his shoulder.

"I lost it, mom!" he whispered.

Her hand on his shoulder tightened. "You didn't lose it, son." Her other hand appeared over his other shoulder and in it was the envelope.

He was ecstatic and shocked and angry all in the same moment. "You took it? Why'd you take it? I needed it!"

"Your dad looked everywhere, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I had to put it somewhere safer."

He grabbed it from her and stood. "I have to see her. I have to see her right now."

"How about in the morning? It's awfully late."

"No. It'll be too late by then. I can't wait. I have to fix it!"

She asked gently, "Fix what?"

He swallowed and pulled away. He didn't have time to explain it, and even if he did, he didn't know how. "I have to fix it before it's broken and she won't be my friend anymore."

"Did something happen?"

He was already running back to the front door. "Yeah, and it's all my fault," he called over his shoulder. "And I have to fix it."

But instead of sprinting back to her house as fast as he could, he was stopped short with a hand on his shoulder. "It's the middle of the night, Sammy. Talk to her in the morning."

He turned back to his mother incredulously. It was no secret that he spent half his nights there. Why was she trying to stop him tonight of all nights? "I always go over there! It's important. I have to! Why not tonight?"

"It's not safe to go running around at in the middle of the night," she explained.

"It's always been safer out there than it was in here!" he retorted. He was clueless as to where the answer had come from, but it worked. She let him go, but only after she handed him his backpack so he could go straight to school from the Clearwaters' in the morning. Assuming he wasn't sent right back home again.

Even though the moon illuminated his path clearly, he still stumbled and fell into the dirt twice as he hastily raced back to Leah's house. The sharp edge of the key dug into his palm. In the backyard, he looked up to her window, hoping he would see that she had changed her mind and opened the window, or at least the curtain. But they were still and closed. His feet pounded in the soil and thumped on the front porch. His hands shook as he fit the key in the lock, but then he was inside. He didn't remember to take off his dirty shoes at the door; he just bounded up the stairs two at a time and burst into her room.

She was sitting up in bed, staring at him with startled, wet eyes and a trembling lower lip. Her breath hitched in her chest, and she squeezed her comforter in her fists. Her soft cheeks shone with the tracks of tears, and he nearly melted into a puddle of guilt and shame in the middle of her floor, right where he stood.

He realized he still hadn't said anything when she blinked and asked him shakily, "What do you want?"

He gawked at her and tried to make an apology issue forth from his chest, but out came only air.

The sadness on her face started to turn to anger, and her features sharpened. "What do you want?" she said louder.

He finally found his voice. "You," he whispered.

"I don't believe you." She shook her head and pouted before crossing her arms over her chest, and he couldn't help but notice that she was pretty even now, with her lips even pinker than usual, her eyelids puffy from crying, and the angry spark in her eyes. "You don't act like you want me at all. You don't act like my friend."

"I'm the worst friend," he admitted, "but you're the best friend, the very best friend anybody ever had, and I don't know what I'll do if you won't be my friend anymore. I'm really sorry, LeeLee. If you let me be your friend again, I promise I'll do better."

She frowned and the pout turned into a scowl. "I don't believe you. Why've you been acting so mean to me? Friends aren't just people who come bug you when they need to take something from you and then ignore you or say nasty things when they think you're not listening. Why'd you do it?"

"Umm..." There was no good answer to that. He squirmed and shifted from foot to foot, aching to touch her skin and see if it would settle the sensation of worms wriggling beneath his skin. But she'd punch him if he came any closer, and he'd deserve it. "Because I'm really stupid?"

It was apparently the right thing to say. She snorted and released her fists from their clench and relaxed her arms in her lap. "You're not usually stupid, but you've been really stupid for the past few days. Weeks. Months."

"I know. I promise I'll stop," he repeated.

She narrowed her eyes, but the quirk of her mouth didn't look so mad anymore. "I'm not sure you know how to stop. This isn't the first time, you know."

"It won't be that hard," he tried to reassure her even as he felt absolutely awful for hurting her again. "Every time I'm wondering what to do, I'll ask myself what you'd do if you were me, and then I'll have the right answer."

That caused a little half smile to appear on her face. It wasn't big enough to make the dimple appear, but suddenly he had hope again. "That does sound like a good idea," she agreed before she wiped the last of her tears away.

He couldn't wait any longer. He had to know; the suspense was killing him. "So can we be friends again?"

She reached for a tissue to messily blow her nose. "That depends on you, not on me. If you act like we're not friends, we're not friends. If you act like we are, then we are. So it's up to you. But I'm not going to be friends with somebody who treats me like dirt."

He felt despicable, and he itched to crawl into bed with her. But he still wasn't forgiven, so he gingerly sat on the edge of the bed instead. He put his hand on the comforter between them, hoping she'd take the hint and grab it and make the worms under his skin go away, but she just looked at it. "I'm not going to do that anymore, I promise. I'm going to treat you like... treat you like..." He couldn't come up with anything. What was the opposite of dirt? Something clean? Something that made you clean? "Soap," he blurted.

That stopped her short. Her sniffling stopped abruptly. "Soap?"

He scratched his head uncomfortably. "Uh..." He felt like an idiot. Because he was an idiot.

And she burst out laughing. "It's the opposite of dirt, isn't it?"

He had to grin at her. Her laugh was the best thing he had heard in days, and the smile on her face was beautiful. And she got him. He loved that she understood him even when he made absolutely no sense at all, least of all to himself. But somehow she made sense of him. "Yeah. That's right," he said sheepishly.

She scooted over and opened the covers to him, and the worms in his belly turned out not to be worms at all, but caterpillars that suddenly metamorphosized into butterflies in his chest. "You're a goof, Sammy."

"Your goof." He dove under the covers next to her.

She slipped down and rolled onto her side to face him, and then she opened her hand on the squishy purple pillow, now fading to an uneven lavender color, and he was utterly relieved. He slipped his hand into hers while he arranged himself to face her. "My Sammy," she whispered. Her smile had softened on her face, and it made her look pretty. So, so pretty.

He squeezed her hands and felt all the crawling under his skin settle into calming warmth. Hesitantly, he asked, "My LeeLee?" as he stared at her little hand entwined in his. She had painted her fingernails bubblegum pink.

"Your LeeLee." Her dimples appeared. And once again he wanted to kiss them, but probably it would be too much. Maybe. Possibly. Could it hurt? Would he disturb their newfound and delicate balance, or would it seal her decision to be his forever?

But before he could work up the nerve, she yawned dramatically. "Mmmsleepy."

He realized he was too. Exhausted. But happy for the first time since... He deliberately stopped thinking about anything before this moment. "Then go to sleep."

Her eyes closed, but still he watched her. Several minutes passed, and still he watched her, the most precious thing he had ever seen, whom he had nearly lost due to his own stupidity. "Hmmm..." she sighed. "You'll still be here? In the morning?"

"As long as you'll let me stay."

"Just stop bein' mean," she mumbled, already half asleep. "And take off 'ur shoes."

He felt sheepish and silly again, but he refused to let go of her hand. Instead he awkwardly stuck his feet behind him and off the edge of the bed and toed them off, where they fell with a thump onto the floor. "Sorry," he told her, but by the time he was settled again, she was asleep. She must have been exhausted.

He heard a squeak in the doorway and realized that Harry or Sue had probably listened to the entire exchange, but he didn't want to look away from her now-peaceful face long enough to see who it was, so he lay still while the door closed quietly. And despite his own exhaustion, he stayed up even longer just looking at her, looking at the wonderful, lovely girl who had chosen to forgive him. He promised himself he'd never hurt her. Not ever again.

X-x-x-x-X

The next morning, he gratefully ate Sue's pancakes while Seth ran around the table in circles. "Sammy's here! Sammy's here! Sammy's here!"

Harry calmly poured syrup over his stack with one hand while handing Seth a plain pancake as the child sprinted. It wasn't the most traditional way to eat breakfast, but it worked. "Mm-y-ere! Mm-y-ere!" Seth continued with a stuffed mouth. Leah was still upstairs in the bathroom, and Sam caught Harry looking at him out of the corner of his eye while he cut his pancakes with his fork. "So you did enough groveling, eh son?"

"Uh," Sammy muttered as he slowly chewed his own mouthful.

"Keep groveling for a while longer," Harry advised. "Then don't do anything like that, not ever again, okay? Do the opposite of whatever it is you were doing before." By his tone, he could have been discussing the weather. But Sammy knew he was deadly serious. Harry couldn't stand to watch his little girl hurting.

"Yessir."

"Don't torture the poor boy," Sue admonished and set a glass of milk in front of him. Then she set a plate with two pancakes down in front of LeeLee's empty seat, a plate of sausage links in the center of the table, and grabbed a sausage and a pancake for herself and dropped them both into a ziplock bag. Sammy knew she'd eat them while she drove to work one-handed. "He's had a rough enough few days, hasn't he? And Leah can take care of herself. She's my daughter, remember?"

"She shouldn't have to," grumbled Harry, but as Sammy felt his cheeks burning with shame, Harry grinned at Sue, who was grabbing her purse off its hook. "But it's a good thing she takes after you. Won't put up with nonsense from nobody."

Seth, who was more perceptive than he let on, kept running around the table but changed his chant to, "Nobody's here! Nobody's here! Nobody's here!"

Leah emerged just as Sue was going out the door. "Morning sweetie, can you make sure your brother drinks his milk?"

"Sure, ma." Leah blew a kiss to Sue, and her mother made a dramatic smooching sound right before the door closed.

"C'mere, princess. Daddy wants one too." Leah gave him a kiss on the cheek, then kissed the center of her palm, which Seth slapped in a high five. The little boy then kissed his own fingers but never stopped running. Sammy wanted one too, but he didn't know how to ask, and it probably wasn't a good idea in front of Harry anyway.

Leah ate her pancakes quickly, and Sammy lent a hand by getting Seth to slow down long enough to drink his milk and taking him back upstairs so both of them could brush their teeth. As soon as Seth spit out his toothpaste, his mouth covered in foam, Seth declared helpfully, "Becca said that LeeLee should dip your toothbrush in the toilet!"

Sammy froze with the brush in his mouth before slowly withdrawing it.

"Don't worry, she didn't!" Seth grinned and rinsed his mouth.

Sammy sighed in relief and resumed brushing his teeth.

Leah appeared in the doorway and said with a smirk, "How would you know, squirt?"

Later that day, Sammy was reasonably certain Leah had just been teasing him, but when they ran into the Black twins while walking to school, he wondered if Becca had done it herself. Her glare at him was deadly. The girls had never really been fans of his, and after the past few months they weren't inclined to be generous, not even at LeeLee's insistence. They corralled her away from him as they walked despite her protests.

But in the parking lot in front of the school, he made his true allegiances known.

Austin was there already, as he always seemed to be. His sort-of-friend rolled his eyes watching Becca scowl at Sammy. He called out, "You guys bugging Sam again? If you don't watch out, he's going to lose his temper one day. And then you'll be sorry!"

Sammy did what he should have done weeks ago. He stepped right up to Austin, his tips of his shoes touching Austin's, and he used his superior height and the angry tone he learned from Joshua to lean over the smaller boy and hiss, "You're right. If you insult Leah one more time I am going to lose my temper. Wanna push me and see what happens?"

Austin's eyes widened. He was used to his victims backing down as soon as he started taunting them, but this was something else altogether. His eyes flicked around nervously, and he took one step backward. But then he realized that everyone was watching him, and he couldn't look like a pansy. Not over a girl, not even over the prettiest girl in school. "Yeah! I do wanna see! What are you gonna do about it?" He shot out his hands and shoved Sam squarely in the chest.

Sammy stumbled back, but only a few inches. His retaliating shove was more successful, and Austin landed on his back. Sammy leaned over him threateningly. This was it. The worms were back, crawling under his skin and itching to get out. And he knew just how to release them. He pulled back his fist as a crowd of children gathered around them yelling, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

But through the din, Leah's voice stopped him. "Sammy? Sammy!" She was trying to push her way through to him.

Austin took advantage of the distraction to hook him in the jaw. It stunned Sammy momentarily, but he had been through much worse. Austin may as well have been a fly. He looked at Leah, who was staring at him with huge eyes. So when Austin swung his other fist at Sammy, he simply caught it in his hand and pushed it back down.

When the teachers finally broke through the laughing, jeering circle of children, Sammy was just sitting on Austin's chest as the bully sputtered with anger and thrashed.

Every child in the yard verified that Sammy hadn't hit Austin, not even after Austin hit him. So he had to sit in the principal's office after school for an extra hour that afternoon and his mother got an embarrassing call while she was at work, but Austin got suspended for a week.

When Sammy emerged from the building, LeeLee and Seth were waiting for him on the swings, so it was absolutely and totally worth it.

X-x-x-x-X

Thanks again to Babs81410. Any remaining mistakes are mine.