The Thursday after getting ice cream with Noah was my twenty-first birthday. June 10th. Even though Allie, Kayla and Rachel had brought it up already-a few times, actually-I was hoping that by the time the day came, they'd have all forgotten. And I was definitely hoping they weren't planning some kind of party or get together. I was sincerely comfortable not making a big deal out of it. It wasn't as if anyone cared about the day I was born anymore. My foster family certainly hadn't-well, perhaps my foster mother had. A little. But my own mother had been gone for years, I didn't have any family, no friends (until now, I suppose, and even now they were still too new to think they'd care very much), and I'd stopped being excited about my birthday a long time ago. It was just another day as far as I was concerned.

I should have known better though. Being here was different. The people I knew were different. They weren't the type to ignore my birthday.

The day began with me entering the kitchen early for breakfast before work, rubbing my eyes and yawning. Usually Martha made breakfast for us every morning. And she was always cheery for being up so early, so I didn't notice anything unusual until I'd sat down and a second later found myself staring at two large homemade waffles with strawberries, whipped cream and a candle stuck in the middle. I froze and blinked as I lowered my hands from my eyes. "Martha..."

"Happy birthday, love," she whispered, leaning down and pressing a swift kiss to the top of my head. To my surprise (and a bit of horror), I found my chest constrict slightly with emotion.

"Thank you," I murmured.

"Come on now, blow the candle out," Tom said from across the table, his mouth full of waffle. "Unless you want wax to drip all over your breakfast."

"Hush, Tom," Martha scolded. "We haven't sung Happy Birthday to her yet!"

"Oh...no, that's not necessary," I said, deciding to put a stop to this before it went any further.

"Nonsense," Martha said, brushing me off. "Of course it's necessary. It's not a birthday without singing."

"Martha, you know I don't sing," Tom said.

"And yet I seem to recall you singing louder than everyone at my last birthday party. A surprise one that you helped throw."

Tom muttered something about butterbeer and firewhiskey as Martha rolled her eyes. And then Tom gave in and they both sang Happy Birthday to me while I blushed furiously and tried to figure out what to do with my facial expression. Once they were done, I blew out the candle with a quick puff. And then Martha reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a rectangular gift wrapped box.

"What's this?" I asked in surprise.

"A birthday present. What else?" She asked with a laugh.

"Martha...honestly, you-"

"Just open it," she insisted, placing the present down in front of me.

I did as she said and slowly pulled the paper off of the gift. It was an empty picture frame. The frame was painted black and all around it was a painted green vine with purple and blue flowers on it, sprouting off from both sides and winding their way around the rectangular wood of the frame.

"I painted it myself," Martha said. "And I thought you should choose what photo will go in there. When you get some. With your friends." She smiled happily.

I smiled slightly as I traced my fingers along the painted vine. "Thank you. Both of you," I whispered, looking up at first Martha, then Tom. "For everything."

Martha nodded warmly as Tom gave me a small smile. "I have to admit," he said, "it is nice to see you opening up a bit. Seeing some of your personality instead of that terrified, silent girl you were when you first showed up. It's good to see you making friends. Maybe it'll get that idea out of your head that you need to save up money and run away the first chance you get."

I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. "Tom, do you actually want me to stay?" I looked at Martha with a smile as her eyes crinkled with laughter.

"He's got a bigger heart than he lets on," she said. "He cares for you just as much as I do."

Tom cleared his throat and shoved his last bite of waffle into his mouth. "You understand, don't you?" he said, looking at me as he finally swallowed. "We were just shy of a year out of the war and while all of You-Know-Who's major followers were either dead or put into Azkaban, we were all still jumpy and on edge. So many months of being skeptical of everything and always on guard...old habits die hard, you know? And Martha and I had lived through You-Know-Who being in power twice. And even though he was dead, it doesn't mean all crime vanished. There are still criminals out there. Theives, con artists, murderers...generally bad people. They still exist, even if they have nothing to do with You-Know-Who."

"I know," I whispered staring down at my hands. "I get it. You did what you had to do."

Tom was quiet. "I know you get it...more so than most people. Which is why I'm saying that when you showed up that night, I was skeptical. I couldn't trust you right away. For all I knew, you were at the least a regular beggar and at most, someone who had hatched a plan to rob us or attack me, my wife, or the guests who stay and eat here. It's why using the Veritaserum was my only condition to letting you in this flat, for however long a period of time."

"No, I understand," I whispered. "And I am so grateful that you took a chance on me. Believe me. You two are the closest I've had to parents in a long time."

Tom nodded curtly once before leaning over and gently putting a hand on mine. "Martha and I have also decided to give you today off. Birthday treat."

"What?" I asked in surprise. "You don't have to do that. You need the help and I need the money."

"There's no reason for you to leave here so quickly, dear," Martha said gently. "I know it must be hard for you to fully understand this, but we mean it. We'd like you to stay as long as you'd like. You are not burdening us and you are safe here."

I closed my eyes. I wasn't sure of that. With the diary and now the woman I'd seen watching me at the ice cream parlor, I was becoming more unnerved with every passing day. I didn't know if I was paranoid or not, but I felt that I needed to tell someone about all of it. But I was afraid to tell Tom and Martha. And the reason why was insane. I was afraid that if I told them that I thought someone had followed me here after all, then they'd kick me out. Tom had just said how skeptical he had been after the war. How he, like most people, just wanted to protect his business, his customers and his wife. If I told him someone was watching me and that I'd found that diary, he might get mad and I'd be out on the street once more. I'd lose everything all over again.

But that had been the plan, hadn't it? Hadn't I been telling myself-and everyone else for that matter-that I was only passing through? That I'd be leaving as soon as I could and moving on to another location. Keeping on the run would lessen the chance even more if someone following me. And wasn't it selfish to be so worried about being put out on the street again? I couldn't put Tom and Martha in danger like that by staying if I knew someone was after me. So then why was I so worried about Tom and Martha telling me to go?

The thing was that, as much as I was telling myself I still needed money to move out as soon as possible and stay on the run, I was starting to fear that I didn't have the strength or willpower to actually do that anymore. I was starting to slowly feel comfortable here. I had told myself I wouldn't, but I was. I couldn't help it. I had everything I'd ever wanted and now I was afraid to lose it all. I was afraid if I told Tom and Martha my secrets, they'd get rid of me and I'd be back at square one, breaking my heart in the process. Because I was already growing attached to life here in London.

"Take the day off," Martha told me firmly, taking my empty breakfast plate away from me. "It's not up for debate. And tonight I'm making a special dinner. I've invited Kyle, Rachel, Allie, Kayla and Noah." She turned and grinned at me.

"Martha," I groaned. "A party?"

"Not a party, a dinner," she said. "No arguments. Now go on, make the most of your extra day off. It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day today. No reason to stay cooped up in here!"

I sighed and looked at Tom, who shrugged. "She has a point. The sun's out right now, the first time it's been out in days. Go catch some rays for me." He stood up to clear his own dish, gave Martha a kiss and then headed downstairs.

"Go on," Martha urged me, wiping her hands on her apron. "Just be back for six o'clock tonight for dinner!"

I smiled at her excitement before thanking her again for my gift. Then I gathered it up and brought it back to my room, where I stood it up on my desk, the blank space where a photo belonged staring back at me. Just looking at it made me want to put one in there. I wished I'd had an old photo of me and my mother, but I didn't even have that. We hadn't brought much with us the night we left. Definitely no photos. I wasn't even completely sure what my mother looked like anymore. My memories of her only went up to the last time I'd seen her, which was almost sixteen years ago now. She was around twenty-eight back then. I wasn't sure how much she could have or would have changed over the course of sixteen years. In any case, my memories were way too vague and getting foggier by the day.

I sighed and turned the picture frame over in my hands. Maybe I could put a photo of me, Tom and Martha inside. Or of me and Kayla, Allie and Rachel. That is, if Tom and Martha didn't find out about the diary and the woman at Florean Fortescue's and then tell me to leave and go as far away as I could. Sure, they could brush the whole thing off as my own paranoia, but what if they didn't? What would I do then?

Normally, I'd deal with something like this myself-I'd always had to. But now things were complicated. I had people here that cared. Or at least they certainly acted like they did. It was different from back home. And I cared about them in return. I couldn't put them in danger and if someone was after me, it was dangerous to everyone else.

I had to involve them. I had to involve someone. Even if I was just being paranoid, I should tell someone about the things I'd witnessed so far, shouldn't I? So that we could put an end to something before it started. The only problem was, I couldn't bring myself to face Tom or Martha. Especially not after this morning. Birthday waffles, a picture frame, the day off, and a birthday dinner? That was more than I'd received for the past fifteen birthday's combined.

I found myself at a loss for what to do. Did I run and not tell anyone? Did I stay and figure it out myself? Stay and ask for help? I was afraid of how Tom and Martha might react, and I wasn't sure how seriously Rachel and the girls would take this. Fred and George were in no place to take this on-we'd certainly established that. Fred and I both had too many of our own issues to handle. But why was he still the only one I could consider going to about this? Why was his advice the advice I wanted?

I bit my lip and looked out the window, where, in the distance I could make out the top of Fred and George's joke shop, the bright purple color standing out against the brown buildings just as much now as it had when I'd first seen it from my window. I remembered Fred helping me last weekend when I'd run out to the alley, struggling to breathe. I remembered how I'd been so close to opening up to him. It had been terrifying, but...if I'd come close once, maybe I could do it again. There was a large part of me tired of always fighting myself on this. Tired of fighting myself on whether I should stay or go, talk or remain silent. Trust people or remain afraid. If I wasted my energy on fighting myself, I'd have nothing left to fight what I really needed to fight--my past. Running was always so much easier-or it least it seemed that way. Because there always came a point where constantly running led to exhaustion. And I was reaching that point. Sooner or later, I'd have to face what I'd gone through, whether it was by choice or not. And I knew deep down that it would be better to do so as strong as possible.

I debated for a second more, and then I quickly stood and marched over to my closet. I moved some shoes out of the way and finally pulled out the diary. And then I thundered down the stairs and out the door, entering the alley and making my way towards the other end as fast as I could. If I waited a second longer, I was going to lose my nerve.

When I finally reached the joke shop, I let myself inside and stood in the doorway for a sescond. It was crowded, but nowhere near as bad as when I'd first visited. It was less overwhelming this time around and it made me feel better.

I searched the immediate vicinity and didn't see the twins, so I began wandering around looking for them, actually enjoying taking everything in this time. I smiled as I walked past the shelves of pygmy puffs. The tiny purple and pink balls of fluff squeaked from both sides, bouncing around in their cages as if they were begging me to take them all home.

I stopped at one cage and peered in at one of the smaller pygmy puffs who was sitting still-unlike the others-and staring up at me. I peered at her for a moment before bringing my finger up to the space between the cage's bars.

"Hey there," I whispered, reaching in to pet the small pink creature. She let out a shrill squeak and retracted to the back of the cage.

"She doesn't like people," a voice said from behind me. "Sounds like you, actually." I turned to see Fred standing there, wearing his magenta work robes and a wide smile.

I stared at him for a second before turning back to the pygmy puff who was still sitting in the back of the cage. "Does she have a name?"

"Not yet," Fred answered. "George and I try not to name them. We feel that should be up to the buyers."

"Yeah, makes sense," I answered, tilting my head and staring at the small, pink pygmy puff some more. "She doesn't like people?"

"Not particularly," Fred answered. "We've been having trouble selling her for that reason. She's one of the less...responsive ones. And customers tend to go for the more excited ones."

For some reason that made my chest ache a bit. "That's so sad."

"Agreed," Fred said, shrugging one shoulder. "George and I have considering adopting her ourselves if no one else takes her."

"I bet she'd love that," I said. I swallowed before turning to Fred. "So I actually came here to see if I could talk to you."

"Yeah?" Fred said curiously, raising an amused eyebrow at me.

I nodded solemnly, hoping I wouldn't start to lose my nerve. I figured I'd better get talking then. I looked over one shoulder, then the other. "Can we talk somewhere more private?"

Fred nodded before gesturing for me to follow him. He led me to the back room that we'd been in the first time I'd come to the shop. Fred approached the work table and started to clear up some of the mess covering the top of it. "Sorry for the mess," he said.

"Are you really?" I asked, perching on the edge of one of the stools around the table.

"Hm?" Fred asked, glancing up at me in confusion.

"Are you honestly sorry for the mess? You don't seem like the type to be embarrassed by something like that."

Fred stared at me for a second before he broke into laughter. "You're right. I'm not. I couldn't care less about all this." He haphazardly tossed an empty vial from his hand back onto the tabletop as he let out a puff of air and shrugged. He gave me a tiny smile. "So...what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Erm..." I began, unsure of where to start now that I was here. I held up the diary and turned it around in my hands, gripping it tightly and staring down at it.

"That's the diary you were so enthralled in the day George invited you to the Burrow," Fred stated. "The one he took from you in order to get you to come."

I nodded. "Yeah, it is."

"Is it yours?" Fred asked after a pause.

"Um..." I began. "Not exactly." I swallowed and lowered the diary back to my lap as I looked up at Fred. "I think I'm in trouble." I found myself holding my breath as I awaited his response. I didn't know what to expect as a reaction. Would he be concerned? Would he want to help? Or would he brush me off as being paranoid and silly? Did he have time to hear my problems when he was still dealing with his own? That's how I'd felt about him when I'd first met him-or at least it was what I'd told myself. But it was becoming less true for me every time I spoke to him.

Fred frowned. "What do you mean?"

I looked at him nervously. "I know we said we didn't want to be that person for each other. We didn't want to be each other's support group or savior or anything like that. We both don't have the time. But-I didn't want to mention this to Tom and Martha, and as much as I fear it could be a decision that will backfire, I really don't want to leave London. If anything, if you don't want to get involved, I need advice about what I should do from here."

Fred's frown deepened slightly. "Sophie, if you're in danger...then, yes, I do want to be that person."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said," Fred interrupted. "And I meant that I didn't want us to sit around crying to each other about our issues and talking about our feelings. But if you're in trouble, of course I'll help you. I would never just ignore you if you were to tell me you needed help."

I stared at him in silence for a moment, thinking about what he'd said as I studied his face. Finally, I held up the diary. "Someone bumped into me a few weeks ago when I was on my way home from visiting your shop. They dropped this in front of me."

"Okay...so?" Fred asked slowly.

I swallowed and set the diary down on the table. Fred walked around and stood next to me, peering down at it.

"Do you remember where exactly in America I'm from?" I asked.

"Salem, right?" Fred answered quietly, glancing over at me.

I nodded and opened the tattered, brittle brown cover of the diary to the first page, tilting it so Fred could read what it said inside. The same words I'd read that first day, still staring back up at me now in ink that was black and faded, but still miraculously readable. The Diary of Elizabeth Ann Proctor. Salem, Massachusetts. 1692.

There was a silence that followed the opening of the diary. A silence in which I was practically squirming with nerves as I waited for Fred to speak.

"So let me get this straight," he finally said. "Someone bumped into you, you didn't see who it was, but they dropped this diary in front of you. And it just so happens to be the diary of someone from the town you're from. Someone from the sixteen hundreds? And you automatically think you're in danger?"

I stiffened at the disbelief in his tone. I snapped the diary closed and stood up. "You know what? Nevermind, Fred. This was a mistake." I turned for the door, but Fred grabbed my arm.

"Wait...please."

I turned and met his eyes, still such a clear blue despite the dull sadness I could still see in them. "What?" I asked, pulling my arm from his grasp.

"I'm willing to listen. I just don't quite understand yet. Please...explain it to me."

"Why do you care?" I asked. "If you're going to turn my life into a joke or a laughing stock, I'm just going to walk away. I can't be around people like that. Not again."

"Again?" Fred asked, looking at me in confusion. Suddenly, he sighed and shook his head. "In any case, no, I'm not laughing at you." He smiled slightly. "Not now. I can't make any promises that I won't in the future, but..." He trailed off and shrugged.

I, however, scoffed and turned to leave again. "I'll see you later, Fred."

"Hang on, wait." Fred darted around me and stood in the doorway, blocking my exit.

"Just get out of the way," I demanded. "Let me out."

"No...Look, Merlin knows I've needed someone to understand how I was feeling a lot of the time over the past year," Fred sighed. "And a lot of the time it felt like nobody did understand. But it didn't mean that people didn't try or didn't want to listen. They just didn't know how. And I didn't exactly tell them. Most of the time, I wouldn't even let them try. I did exactly what you're doing now. So if you'll talk to me, I would like to help."

"I thought you didn't want us to be a two-person support group," I argued. I shook my head. "You were right, Fred. I didn't come here-to England, I mean-for help. I came here planning to just get my bearings and leave."

"Hang on, hang on," Fred said, stopping me as I tried to push past him. He reached out to touch my arm, but I pulled away and he slowly lowered his hand. "Maybe I changed my mind."

"Why? That's what I'm having trouble understanding."

"Because you need someone. This is the first time I've seen you look honestly scared since I've met you. You've been skittish and closed off, yeah, but when you first came in and asked if we could talk, you looked genuinely terrified. So maybe this is more serious than I realized. Maybe you need more help than I realized. Maybe it's more than you just having a tough past. Maybe you're having a tough present, too. And for some reason-a reason I'm not quite sure of-you decided you wanted to talk to me. You decided I was the person you wanted to come to for help. I can't just refuse you like that."

"Maybe you should," I sighed. "It might end up being for your own good."

Fred snorted. "Here's the thing--I don't always make decisions based on whether or not it's for my own good." He shook his head. "I'm not heartless, Soph. I'm just going through a lot. I've been a moody bastard a lot of times in the past year. Just ask my family." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before walking over to the table again and leaning against it in exhaustion. "After Percy died, everyone was always treating me like I was the one who needed help. And maybe I did, but I didn't know what kind of help I needed or how to ask for it. If it was hard for me to find someone to be open with out of all the people available to choose from, well, I can't imagine how you must feel."

"I don't need your pity. We've discussed this."

"No pity. I just...don't want to turn you away. And I like having a task to focus on. It gets my mind off of things." He met my eyes and I could see desperation looking back at me through his expression. "Please?"

"I'm not a distraction for you either, Fred," I told him, staring at him stonily. "You were right, this is probably more serious than you thought. You don't know what you're getting into."

"I can handle serious," Fred insisted.

"Can you?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"What, you don't think I'm mature enough for whatever this is?" He gestured to the diary. "You don't think I'm capable of helping someone without having an ulterior motive?"

"You literally just said you like having a task to focus on," I said. "But I also don't know you all that well. And sometimes I have trouble figuring you out. Not that it matters. If I have my way, I won't be here much longer anyway."

"You know, I have trouble figuring you out as well," Fred answered hotly.

"How so?" I fired back.

"You act like you don't need anyone, and yet you came to me for help. You haven't tried all that hard to leave. If you really wanted to move on, you would have done so already."

"A job working for Tom and Martha practically fell into my lap," I said. "I felt it couldn't hurt to save up some money. You know, to avoid sleeping on the streets."

"Mhm, sure," Fred replied, looking me up and down as he crossed his arms.

"You don't believe me?" I asked.

"I do," he answered. "But I don't think it's the whole truth. You're lying to yourself and therefore, lying to everyone else."

"I am not!"

"You are, but you don't want to admit it. You keep putting yourself out there, but then pulling back and shutting down. That can be dangerous. I would know."

"What's your point?" I asked quietly.

"You're trying to protect yourself from getting hurt," Fred said. "I get that. But not everyone has bad intentions. You just have to take the risk of getting to know them and figuring that out for yourself. You don't know me very well, and I don't know you. But why don't you just...try? Why don't you try to give me a chance? Where would you be if no one ever gave you a chance? If Tom and Martha hadn't taken a chance and let you stay with them? All I'm really asking, I guess, is that you stop judging me. Give me a chance to show you just who I am instead of leaving you to guess. And I'll do the same for you. Give you a chance."

I stood still for a second, studying Fred intently as I thought over what he said. Finally, I turned on my heel and made my way back over to my seat at the table. I cleared my throat and set the diary down on the worn wooden surface. "Elizabeth Proctor wasn't just any old person from the sixteen hundreds, you know," I said.

"Really," Fred answered from the doorway, the corner of his mouth turning up a bit as he looked at me.

I smiled a bit at him and slowly shook my head. "She was involved in the Salem witch trials. And in this diary, she keeps an account of what she witnessed."

"Really," Fred said, sounding a bit more interested now. He came over, pulled out the stool beside me and sat down, his body angled to face me and his arms resting lazily on his knees. "And you say someone just dropped that in front of you?"

I nodded. "It's too freaky to be accidental, Fred," I whispered. "I mean, there can't be many other people here that are also from Salem-if there are even any at all. It just seems like whoever dropped this meant to drop it in front of me. Like they meant for me to have it."

"So you think someone's spying on you?" Fred asked. "Someone from home?"

"I'm not sure exactly," I answered. "It feels that way, but so far all I've witnessed is this diary and...when I went out for ice cream with Noah last weekend, this woman at one of the corner tables...well it felt like she was staring at me. And when I looked back over at her, she was gone. Just like that."

Fred thought about that for a moment. "I hate to break it to you, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Minds can be pretty powerful and if you're already on edge, maybe it just seemed as if-"

"I know what I saw, Fred," I insisted. "And besides, whether she was watching me or not, the fact is that somehow this diary ended up in my posession. A real diary from where I was from and a real account of the Salem witch trials. I came here to move on from that. I came here to get away from that place. And it just seems too strange that this diary would be dropped right in front of me. I can't help but feel as if someone knows I'm here. As if someone followed me. Or at the very least someone here knows who I am and where I'm from. And they want me to have this diary."

Fred took in a long breath through his nose. "Maybe it's someone good."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe no one from Salem is after you to hurt you. Maybe someone actually wants to help you with something. Maybe this diary is a clue."

"There is one person from Salem who I always felt would try to find me. I think they would want to hurt me. And I always felt that they'd just do so. Without waiting or playing games. So if that person is here, I'm not sure why they would be messing with me."

"So maybe it isn't them," Fred shrugged. "Maybe it is someone trying to do something nice.

"If they are just trying to be nice, it would be a lot easier if they just were outright about it," I huffed. "Besides, I doubt there's anyone from back home who'd actually want to help me."

"No?" Fred asked quietly.

I shook my head. "Believe it or not, Tom and Martha have been the closest thing to family I've had in a long time." I paused and took in a slow breath before staring at the ceiling. "Back in Salem, I lived with a foster family-and had been in the foster care system since I was five years old. I bounced around a few times before ending up in the one I was in the most recently. They weren't the greatest. And eventually I ran away. I didn't have any friends, no exended family, nothing but memories to keep me in Salem. And even those weren't enough. I needed to get as far away from that town as possible. So I ran. I moved around America a lot, practicing Apparating longer and longer distances until I was good enough to try traveling across an entire ocean. And it worked." I shook my head and blinked as I frowned throughtfully at the ceiling. "I don't know how I did it."

"You mean you Apparated all the way here from America?" Fred asked incredulously.

I nodded. "I had been practicing. I went from place to place in the vicinity of Massachusetts. I covered all of New England pretty much. Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Rhode Island...but those always felt too close to Salem. So I began branching out. I covered the entire east coast before moving on to the Midwest, and then eventually reaching California. And then...I tried Apparating from California back to the east coast. I went to Florida. And I made it. I went back and forth a few more times to be sure. And then I went up to the east coast of Canada before coming here from there."

"And it worked?" Fred asked.

I nodded. "Splinched myself a little. Pretty badly, but not badly enough where I was missing any entire body parts. That's what I was really afraid of happening. But no, I just had a skin splinch. My upper thigh. I repaired it the best I could, but Martha helped speed up the healing and finish the job when she took me in. I'd actually done a fair job with it, but I'd only managed to heal it about three quarters of the way. Martha had to finish it, like I said. I wouldn't let her take me to the hospital. Didn't want a fuss and didn't want a lot of people knowing I was here."

"And this was how long after you'd arrived here?" Fred asked. "When Martha took you in?"

I shrugged. "A few weeks. I arrived in London in the beginning of April and two to three weeks later, I was at Tom and Martha's." I swallowed and let out a sigh. "I had nowhere to stay when I first got here," I continued, "but I didn't care. I stole some clothes from peoples' garbage. I stole food from the garbage. I was that hungry and desperate. Tom caught me in the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron once and chased me away, but I kept going back. I liked their food the best. Eventually Tom caught me again. He walked out to see me crouched beside a garbage can, wearing a tattered, stolen cloak and drenched from the rain. He got really angry and started yelling. Martha came out after that and stopped me from running. She invited me in, much to Tom's disappointment."

"What convinced him to let you stay?" Fred asked, his voice still quiet.

I finally looked at him, blinking a few times as I did. I had almost forgotten he was there. I'd felt like I'd been talking to myself. But to my surprise, it had felt good to say it all out loud, even if it was only scraping the surface of what I'd gone through.

"Veritaserum," I said. "That was Tom's idea. Make me take some so he'd know I wasn't a threat. Understandable, but I was terrified. I pitched a fit. I screamed and fought them..." I trailed off and shook my head. "I still don't quite understand what Martha saw in me that made her fight for me to stay."

"Maybe she saw exactly what you were," Fred said. "A scared girl who was in need of some help, shelter and food."

"She always says she has good intuition," I sighed, staring absentmindedly at the worktable. I leaned over to look into one of the cauldrons. "What are you working on?"

"Erm, just a new batch of Canary Creams," Fred said distractedly. I could feel him still staring at me. Clearly, my change of subject had disoriented him, but he didn't push me to keep going, which I appreciated.

"Canary Creams?" I asked. "What do those do?"

"They make whoever eats them turn into a canary. Momentarily, of course." Fred cleared his throat. "So...you think that if someone's following you it could be your foster family?"

I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes and sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. "I don't know. It wasn't the whole family that was bad. My foster mother was fine. But she and I were both pretty powerless against my foster father. He was pretty rough. He didn't want us to leave. Ever since I ran, I've felt that he wouldn't just let it go and that he'd come after me."

"But to follow you all the way here?" Fred asked. "You said you moved around America a lot too. Did you ever feel like you were being followed there?"

"No, but that was always why I kept moving. To give him less of an opportunity."

"And now you've been here for a while and you're-"

"Paranoid?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not saying I don't believe something's up," Fred said. "Or that I don't believe he could be after you. But for someone to follow you all the way here..." He sighed and rubbed his eyes before he lowered his gaze to the diary. He slowly reached out for it. "Do you mind?"

I hesitated for a bit, biting my lip as I looked at him nervously.

"If I'm going to get a sense of what's going on here, I think I should know what you know. As much as I can, anyway."

I considered that for a moment before slowly handing him the tattered book. "Be careful with it. It's practically falling apart."

Fred took it from me gingerly. He opened his mouth and closed it again, frowning slightly. "Are you sure this diary is..."

"Safe?" I asked as Fred nodded. "I wondered the same thing, but nothing's happened so far just from reading it and holding it. It doesn't move on its own or make any sounds. It hasn't caused any bodily harm from touching it." I shrugged. "My eyes haven't been burned out of my head. Nothing odd has happened to me whatsoever."

Fred nodded again and swallowed as he turned the diary over in his hands.

"You don't look like you believe me," I said with a small smirk.

Fred cleared his throat and lowered the diary to his lap. He began fiddling with the corner of it before he spoke again. "When my sister was in her first year of school, she was slipped a blank diary by the father of one of the kids at school. He used to be a Death Eater and most likely has tons of dark objects in his house." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, she started writing in it, even though our dad had always drilled into our heads not to trust anything unless we could see where it kept its brain. But she wrote in the diary anyway and it was writing back. She poured everything into it and eventually it posessed her. Made her do really terrible things. And in the end, it almost killed her." He swallowed and cleared his throat again. "I never understood why she couldn't come to any of her own siblings instead of writing in that thing."

"I'm sorry, Fred," I whispered. "I don't know what to say...I-"

"The diary had a part of You-Know-Who's soul in it," Fred interrupted.

"What?" I spluttered, binking at him.

"She didn't know at the time. She didn't know until the very end," Fred said hurriedly. "No one knew. But that's what it was." He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes.

I was quiet for a second. "Look, Fred, if you don't want to do this, then-"

"No, I do," he said quickly. He looked up and gave me a fleeting smile. "Remember, the last thing I need or want is pity. For anything."

"But-"

"I can handle this," he said.

"But you just said your dad told you-"

"My dad is not here, I am an adult, and I've always been choosy about what rules I follow," Fred said firmly. He held up the diary and smiled. "I won't read past where you are," he said, touching the bookmark I had sticking out from between the pages.

I looked at him, stunned, for a second. "Erm, okay...if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Fred said. "Besides, like you said, nothing's happened to you from reading and holding it, so I think we'll be fine."

"Unless it hates redheads," I said with a tiny smile as I looked back down at the table.

"Are you making a joke?" Fred asked with a laugh.

I shrugged. "Anything you want me to do while you're reading that?"

Fred let out a puff of air as he scanned the worktable. "Want to put the Canary Cream potions into those molds over there?" he asked, pointing. "Then when you're done you can put them on one of the shelves. Wherever there's room. They need to sit overnight."

I nodded and stood up, crossing to the other side of the table and getting to work as Fred set the diary on the table and flipped it open. We sat in silence as he read it and every so often I glanced up at him to look at his expression. He had his elbows resting on the table, his hands balled ino fists that rested on either side of his head, which made it hard to see his face, but I could tell he was just as enthralled with the diary as I was. It was terrifying to read, but hard to stop. And it was all real.

Fred suddenly lifted his head up and ran his hands over his face as he took in a deep breath and let it out. I looked up at him as I started on pouring the Canary Creams into a new mold.

"You need to read faster," he announced, closing the diary and resting his chin in his hands.

I smiled. "Hooked already, huh?" I asked.

"Well I need to know what happens to that little girl!" he exclaimed. "You just left off right after she got arrested."

"Well, yeah, I kind of needed a break after that entry. It's not exactly light reading, Fred."

He nodded."Yeah, I know.'

I swallowed. "So what'd you think?"

"I think it's unfair," he said. "I mean, witch hunts happened here in England, but the victims were typically burned. Non-magical people still died, but if someone magical was captured, they just casted a Flame-Freezing Charm. Take Wendelin the Weird, for example. She allowed herself to be captured at least forty-seven times in various disguises because she liked being burned so much. Well, rather she liked the tickling feeling the flames gave once she cast the charm."

"Yeah, well back in Salem, the accused were hanged," I said. "They shackled them in iron chains because iron was said to affect a person's magic."

"Which is true," Fred said.

I nodded and there was a pause. "You paid attention in History of Magic? I didn't take you as the type. Even I struggled to pay attention in that class."

"Was your teacher a boring old ghost?" Fred asked.

"No," I answered. "He was a boring old living person."

Fred snorted. "To answer your question, no, I didn't pay attention at all in that class."

"Then how did you know about Wendelin the Weird?"

"I'm not completely stupid, Soph," Fred scoffed with a laugh. "There are some things you just happen to learn. Probably picked it up at some point or another. Whether I actually retained something old ghostly Binns said, or I heard one of my siblings or my parents or a classmate mention it when doing homework." He shrugged and smiled at me as he shook his head and let out another laugh. "Honestly, how daft do you think George and I are?"

"No, of course I don't think you're daft," I said. "You can't be to pull all this off." I gestured around the room. When I looked back at Fred and met his eyes, he was smiling at me in amusement and I blushed as I looked away quickly. I finished filling the last mold and began putting them on the shelf behind me. "So...I've been advised by a few people now to ask you about the day you dropped out of school." I looked at Fred over my shoulder and saw him look up at me in surprise.

"Who?" he asked.

"Noah and your sister. They've both said how much you like talking about it and they were both surprised you hadn't told me yet." I turned from the shelf and sat down across from him.

"I'm not the same person I was before," he said quietly. "Besides...you and I-the circumstances in which we met were a little different."

"How so?" I asked hesitantly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I looked down at the table.

Fred sighed. "It's just...you appeared here out of nowhere, and just as closed off and private about your past as I am. You didn't seem amused or impressed by me at all, which maybe under other circumstances would have been a reason for me to tell you about dropping out from school. So that I could impress you. But you didn't even seem to be the type who would care about that story anyway. I didn't think it would get any sort of reaction from you. And somehow we started off with all the heavier information first, which seems so totally backwards. You found out about Percy and you just told me some of your own backstory. It never seemed fitting to just jump into the story of how I left school. It just didn't feel right. Besides, it's been hard to have the energy in the past year."

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded. It was dead silent between us for a while and I found myself shifting in my seat as I thought of something to say.

"Thanks for your help today, by the way," Fred said, stretching his arms above his head.

"I didn't do much," I said. "It was an easy job."

"Still helpful, though," Fred said. He glanced at his watch. "I should be getting back out there."

"Yeah, of course," I said, grabbing the diary and following Fred out into the store. "Sorry for taking up so much of your time today."

"Nah, don't mention it," Fred said nonchalantly. "I love taking breaks from work in the form of a mysterious girl and her mysterious diary." He nudged me and I smiled slightly.

Fred walked me to the door and at the last minute, I turned to look at him. "Do you and George-do you, um..."

"Come on, spit it out," Fred teased with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you two...have any plans tonight?"

Fred smiled. "Why, are you asking us on a date?" His smile turned into a smirk. "I'm flattered, but sharing girls with my twin has never been and never will be my thing."

"No, no, of course I'm not," I said quickly.

Fred chuckled. "I'm joking, Soph."

I bit my lip and fiddled with my hair. "I just wanted to know if you'd like to come by for dinner. Martha invited Noah, Allie, Kayla, Rachel and Kyle and I just felt as if I should have at least one pick of my own. Even though I'd love having the others over anyway..." I trailed off as I realized I was saying too much. Typical. Apparently, I was either saying hardly anything at all, or I was saying too much.

"Tom and Martha have dinner parties often?" Fred asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"No..." I said slowly. "It's-well, it's my birthday today."

"Today's your birthday?" Fred asked, his eyes going wide. "Well, why didn't you say so?"

"I just did," I said with a shrug.

"Oh, so witty," Fred said, leaning out to grab my arm. I flinched away and Fred froze before gently putting a hand on the small of my back. "Come on," he said, guiding me back into the shop. "I want you to have something."

"Fred, please. That's not necessary." I reluctantly let him guide me back through the shop. This was why I hadn't wanted to let the whole world know it was my birthday. I didn't want any extra attention. Everything Tom and Martha had done at breakfast had been more than enough. But then again, I reminded myself, I had been the one to invite Fred and George. And I couldn't invite them without telling them what I was inviting them to. I guess a part of me felt as if I should have some say in who else I'd want to celebrate my birthday with. And after today, I wanted Fred there. And George too, of course. After all, he had been the one who had all but insisted that Fred and I could help each other out. And today I had proved him right.

Eventually, Fred came to a stop back over near the pygmy puffs. Specifically, the shy little pink one we'd been discussing earlier. He opened the cage and slowly stuck in a finger, allowing the pygmy puff to come to him instead of reaching in and scaring her. Once the pygmy puff had hopped closer, Fred reached in gently and took her out, holding her to his chest.

"Here," he said, slowly holding her out to me. "I want you to have her."

"Fred, I can't possibly-"

"Please, it's a birthday present from me to you. I could tell you took a liking to her right away. And she needs someone. And what better person to be that someone than you. Someone who I think knows what it's like to be wary of people. Someone who's likeable and wants people to like them and wants a family, but has been unfairly struggling to get one."

I gazed at the tiny pygmy puff in his hands. I could tell she was trembling from where I was. Fred was right. I had felt as if I related to the tiny, shivering pygmy puff. I did get what it was like. I hated knowing that no one was interested in buying the poor thing just because she shied away from people.

"Go on, take her," Fred said.

Hesitantly, I reached out for the pygmy puff, holding her gently and running a finger over her head as she trembled and squeaked. I quietly shushed her, a slight smile forming on my face as she quieted, but continued to shake slightly. I looked back up at Fred as I used my free hand to start digging in my pocket. "How much?"

"I told you...it's a birthday present from me to you. And that typically means you don't pay anything." He grinned widely.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you just giving her to me because you know you wouldn't make a profit off of her anyway?"

Fred rolled his eyes slightly. "Sophie, listen. I know this is hard for you to understand, but sometimes people are going to be nice to you because they want to and there isn't going to be any ulterior motive."

"You're right. I am having trouble understanding that."

"Please," Fred said quietly. "Just take her. No cost. Enjoy her company."

"If I..." I began in a whisper, looking down at the pygmy puff. "If I leave..."

"Tell you what," Fred said after a beat. "If you do decide to leave, you can bring her back and I'll take her. No questions asked and no arguing. But I am promising you now that you are going to grow so attached to her that you're either going to take her with you, or you'll just stay." He shrugged.

"Are you trying to trick me into staying by giving me a pygmy puff?" I asked, tilting my head to the side thoughtfully.

Fred chuckled. "My, my, what a suspicious young woman you are."

I looked down at the pygmy puff in my hands. "I have good reasons to be."

Fred was quiet for a moment before he gestured for me to follow him with a tilt of his head. "Come on, I'll get you set up with food and everything else you'll need to officially become the proud owner of a pygmy puff."

I nodded. "Will you come tonight?" I asked. "You and George?"

Fred pretended to think. "I don't know," he said with a dramatic sigh. "George and I have such busy schedules. I mean, after work we've got so much stuff to do...lots of cleaning and laundry and George likes to bake at least once a week. He's got a frilly apron and everything. Tonight's apple pie night, I think. Not sure I can miss that."

"Really," I said, a smile twitching up the corner of my mouth. "That's too bad. We'll be having cake. Chocolate, I think. Homemade. With homemade chocolate frosting."

"Say no more," Fred said. "To hell with George's apple pie. We'll be there."

"Be where?" George suddenly came around the corner and saw me. "Hey!"

"Today is Sophie's birthday," Fred said, "and she has ever so kindly invited us over for dinner. And cake."

"Fred was telling me all about how you like to bake something special once a week and tonight was apple pie night."

"Ah, I thought I heard mention of an apple pie," George said. "Although, I wasn't aware I was baking it." He raised an eyebrow at Fred, who simply shrugged and smiled.

"I didn't think so," I said.

"Well in any case, happy birthday," George said. "How old is the lovely lady, may I ask?"

"Georgie, Georgie," Fred scolded. "You should know better than to ask a woman's age."

"She can't be too far off from our own age," George answered.

"Still. Honestly, it's a wonder you can keep a girlfriend with disrespect like that."

"Shut up." George rolled his eyes before turning back to me. "So, come on now, how old?"

"Twenty-one," I replied.

"Us too," George said with a smile. "Only as of a few months ago. On the first of April."

"April Fool's day," I commented in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Fred answered. "When we say we were born to do this job, we mean it in every way possible."

I didn't reply. Instead, I stared around the shop, unsure of what to feel. Now that the overwhelming feeling I'd felt the first time coming here was wearing off, I felt amazed. But feeling amazed felt odd. How could I be amazed by a joke shop-a shop that specialized in pranks-when so many jokes and pranks had been played on me back at Ilvermorny? In all of my experience, pranks were used to embarrass people. They were used maliciously. I was struggling to put together the facts that Fred and George ran a shop like this and had most likely been regularly pranking people since birth...and yet they were nice.

"So...what time tonight?" Fred asked.

"Erm...six." I jolted out of my trance and looked back at him.

"Okay, sounds perfect," Fred answered. "You in, George?"

"I'm always in when it involves partying and cake," George answered. "Thank you for inviting us."

I gave them a shy smile. "Of course."

After that, Fred gave me some materials for my new pygmy puff, gave me some tips on caring for her and then sent me on my way, promising to see me at six o'clock. And then I immediately made my way back to the Leaky Cauldron, actually feeling pretty excited to get my pygmy puff set up in her new home. Now all I had to do was think of a name...

"Okay, so listen," Rachel said, the second I opened my bedroom door to let her in. It was four-thirty. She wasn't supposed to be here for another hour and a half, and yet, here she was, breezing into my bedroom as if she'd known me my whole life. She walked over to my bed, dropped a rectangular gift wrapped box onto it, and turned to face me. "I'm sorry I offended you the day you went out with Noah. I didn't mean to make you think I was making fun of you. I wasn't. I was just trying to help. But with that being said, your clothes are very basic."

I stared at her in amusement and exasperation for a moment before responding. "I like it that way," I said. "I told you that."

"I know. You don't want to spend the money and you have other things to worry about besides clothes," Rachel said, flapping her hand around. "And I know not every girl is as into fashion as I am. But even still, a girl has to own at least one outfit that isn't a plain sweater, t-shirt or jeans. And also ideally not baggy. So that's why I decided to start you off." She picked up the box from my bed and handed it to me. "Go on, open it."

I blinked at her. Another gift? That was my third one today. Slowly, I crossed the room and took the box from her. "Thanks, Rachel, but you didn't have to-"

"I wanted to. It's your birthday. You deserve it. Trust me."

Swallowing, I set the box back down on the bed so I could better unwrap it. And then when I pulled off the lid, I found myself staring down at a deep purple sundress covered in tiny white polka dots.

"Polka dots are such a great pattern, aren't they?" Rachel asked, sitting down on my bed and leaning backwards on her hands.

I giggled. "They are."

"Allie agrees. Kayla is partial to stripes, though, which I've never felt are flattering. At least on me. Although, I read in Witch Weekly though that vertical stripes are more slimming."

"Oh, please, as if you need to utilize that tip," I snorted. "You could pull off anything. In fact, I'm surprised you're not a model."

Rachel let out a screech of laughter. "Yeah, right! A model, honestly." When she had stopped laughing, she looked at me. "Well? Aren't you going to put it on?" She gestured to the dress.

"Um, yeah, hang on. I'll be right back." I walked over to the door and reached for the knob.

"Where are you going?" Rachel asked.

"To change. In the bathroom," I said.

"What's wrong with here?" Rachel asked. "I won't look. And even if I accidentally saw something, I mean, it's not like I don't know what a naked girl looks like." She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

I flushed as I looked down at the ground, unsure of how to get out of this situation without her suddenly finding me incredibly odd. But I couldn't tell her about my scars. I just couldn't. "I-I'd just-"

"You changed in front of me that day we first hung out and went to Hogsmeade," Rachel pointed out. "And did I look then?"

She hadn't, but even then I'd changed hastily, all while keeping my eyes on her to make sure she wasn't looking. I was too afraid of anyone seeing the scars on my back. And that was the other thing. Once I put the dress on, I had to make sure the scars weren't visible, even a little bit. The dress looked like it would cover most of them, but it seemed like there could end up being a few inches unaccounted for.

"I'm really just more comfortable in the bathroom," I stammered, leaving quickly before Rachel could say anything else.

Once in the bathroom, I hurriedly changed into the dress. It was pretty and it did fit perfectly. That was a plus. Holding my breath, I turned my back to the mirror and then craned my neck to look over my shoulder. About an inch of one of the scars was visible over the top of the back of the dress. But as long as I kept my hair hanging straight down my back, it was covered completely. It was a risky chance to take considering how easily my hair could move, but I just had to remember to keep it down my back. No pulling it into a quick ponytail or pulling it over one shoulder. Just down my back.

I arranged it the way I wanted and let out a slow breath. Satisfied as much as possible, I headed back to my room to see that Allie and Kayla had arrived and had joined Rachel on my bed. When I walked in, Rachel beamed. "It's perfect!"

"Purple is a good color for you," Allie said. "Although, blue would certainly bring out your eyes...But I like the purple."

"Want me to do something with your hair?" Rachel asked eagerly.

"No," I said hurriedly, backing away a step and pressing myself against the wall.

"Okay," Rachel said, looking at me curiously. She recovered quickly, though, and smiled at me. "I like it down anyway."

I swallowed and stepped away from the wall. "Thank you all for coming," I said, gingerly sitting down on the bed, making sure to keep my back angled towards the wall.

"Of course we'd come!" Allie said brightly.

"Any excuse to eat more of Martha's cooking," Kayla added with a cheeky smile. "Sophie's lucky. She gets to eat it every day."

"And Noah's coming tonight," Rachel said with a devious grin. "You said you enjoyed yourself last weekend, yeah?"

I nodded. "He's very nice."

"He has a heart of gold," Allie said. "He wouldn't hurt a fly. Literally."

"He won't kill insects," Kayla shared, looking at me. "None of them. Not ants, not spiders, not flies..."

"Is he a total animal lover?" I asked. "Including bugs?"

The girls nodded. "He's even mostly vegetarian," Allie said.

"Mostly?" I asked.

"I've seen him sneak tiny bites of sausage once Kyle's cooked them in the morning." Rachel snorted and shook her head. "He can't resist. They're his weakness."

"You can't be mostly vegetarian," I protested.

"Apparently Noah can," Kayla sighed.

"He is a really great guy," Rachel assured me quietly. "Any girl would be lucky to have him."

"Did you have a boyfriend back in Salem?" Allie asked me.

"No," I snorted. "Please. Do I look like girlfriend material?"

"Of course you do," Allie said. "Why wouldn't you be? You're pretty, you're nice, and you work hard."

"And you have a sense of humor in there somewhere," Rachel added.

"Well, no one in Salem saw what you see," I said, rolling my eyes. There was a short pause, and before it got the chance to turn into a long awkward silence, I spoke again. "I invited the Weasley twins to come tonight."

"You did?" the girls chorused at once. All of their eyes had gone wide as they looked at me.

I nodded. "I went to visit them this morning and stayed for a bit. Fred gave me a pygmy puff." I gestured over to my desk, where my new pygmy puff was huddled between my lamp and the wall, wedged perfectly under the lip of the windowsill.

"I didn't even notice her there," Rachel said.

"She's sleeping. And most likely hiding. She's not fond of people."

"Like you?" Kayla asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She likes people," Rachel said matter-of-factly. "She just isn't used to trusting many. "You're the one who doesn't like people, Kayla."

"True," Kayla said with a nod.

"Did you name her?" Allie asked, still looking over at my new Pygmy Puff.

I nodded. "Buttercup."

"How positively...frilly," Kayla commented dryly.

"Frilly?" Allie asked with a scoff. "That wasn't nice, Kayla. It's Sophie's Pygmy Puff and she can name her what she wants. Besides, I think it's a cute name."

"You would," Kayla snorted.

"What would you name her, then?" Allie asked.

Kayla looked over and studied the Pygmy Puff thoughtfully. "Rex," she finally answered.

"Rex?" Allie asked in distaste. "That's a boy's name! And it's ugly."

I couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled out of my mouth. Kayla looked at me in amusement while Allie continued to look at Kayla in annoyance.

"Rex just sounds...tough," Kayla said. "Intimidating, you know?"

"Which Pygmy Puffs are not," Allie argued. "They're cute, sweet, and gentle."

"Exactly, Al," Kayla said with a sigh. "That's the point."

"Whatever," Allie muttered, rolling her eyes. She looked at me. "Does Fred talk to you about Percy at all?" She asked.

"Not really," I answered, shaking my head.

"Then what do you two talk about?"

"Not much," I responded quickly, not sure how to avoid telling them about the diary.

"Ah," Kayla said. "Not much. Point taken." She pursed her lips and made kissing faces in my direction as my face heated up instantly.

"We don't do that either," I protested.

"Then what do you do? You must like him at least a little bit since you were the one to invite him to your party."

"I invited George too," I pointed out.

Kayla flapped her hand around. "Yeah, I know. So you must like both of them enough to invite them. But why do I feel like you see more of Fred than George?"

"Why do I feel as if you're making something out of nothing?" I asked.

"Because you invited them to your party on your own!" Kayla argued. "You're the one who wants to distance yourself."

"Okay, so because I invited them, that means I'm in love with them or something?" I rolled my eyes.

"I didn't say you were in love with them," Kayla said, holding up her hands. "You said that."

"Look, it doesn't mean anything," I said. "I would've invited you three on my own too if Martha hadn't already. I just figured that since Martha had already put this together and I was already hanging around at the shop...why not, right?"

"Mhm, sure," Kayla said with a knowing grin.

Before I could retaliate, there was a knock on the door and Martha stuck her head in. "Noah and Kyle are here," she said brightly. "And dinner is almost ready."

"I can help set the table," I said, getting up.

"Nonsense! It's your birthday, darling."

"I don't mind," I said, crossing the room to her and giving her a small smile. "I should go say hi to Kyle and Noah anyway."

"Oh yes, go say hi to Nooahh," Rachel said, stretching out his name.

"Not so loud," I hissed, hoping Martha wouldn't start questioning me now, thinking that there really was something going on with me and Noah. She hadn't said much after I went out for ice cream with him, but I didn't know for sure what she'd do if she ever thought there was something truly serious going on. I just didn't want her to get overexcited because she thought there was something happening that wasn't.

I quickly slipped out of the room and down the hallway as Martha followed me. When I got to the kitchen, I saw Tom, Kyle and Noah standing there talking, each with a butter beer in their hand.

"Hey, birthday girl!" Kyle practically shouted when he saw me, making me nearly jump. He passed me an envelope with my name scrawled across the front. "Got you a card. It's very fitting for you."

Raising an eyebrow, I slid open the envelope and pulled out the card that was inside. It was clearly a child's birthday card, with lots of bright colors and a cartoon mouse on the front.

"Funny," I commented, looking up at Kyle with a smile. "Really humorous."

"Isn't it?" Kyle said.

I opened the card to see the words Happy Birthday printed in giant block letters. And underneath, Kyle had written a note.

"Happiest of birthdays to the coolest mouse I know," I read. "Thanks, Kyle."

"I was thinking of gifting you with an extra work shift while I took a day off, but Martha advised me that was a terrible idea."

"Most days, I'd rather do your job than waitress," I shuddered.

"Do you cook?" Noah asked me curiously. He passed me a small, gift wrapped box. "This is yours, by the way. Happy birthday."

"Thanks," I said, taking it from him. "And yes, I do. I used to all the time back home."

"Really," Kyle said, his eyebrows shooting up. "Well, why didn't you ever mention that? That seems useful to bring up at an establishment that serves food, don't you think?"

"I think it has to do with the whole quiet thing," Tom said.

"Tomorrow you're cooking something for me, Mouse," Kyle insisted. "I want to see if you've been holding out on us."

I groaned. "And maybe that's why I never brought it up."

"It'll give you an excuse to stay in the kitchen for longer," Kyle pointed out.

"True." I held up the card. "Thank you, seriously, for the card." I turned to Noah's gift next and started ripping open the paper, revealing a plain rectangular black box. When I pulled open the cover, I smiled. Inside was a gift certificate to Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor.

"So you can have a few more banana splits on me," Noah said.

"Thanks, Noah," I giggled.

"How utterly thoughtful," a voice snickered from behind me. I turned to see Allie, Rachel and Kayla standing there, hiding giggles behind their hands. I swatted at Kayla with the gift certificate before I set both of my gifts down and began setting the table for dinner. I wondered where the twins were. It was a few minutes past six, so it wasn't late enough to be worried just yet, but for an instant, a bolt of fear shot through me that they wouldn't show. I thought I'd felt the capacity of all the hurt I could feel by this point in my life and that if they did stand me up, it wouldn't really affect me. But it would, I realized. If they didn't show up, I would honestly be disappointed. I actually found myself glancing towards the door every few seconds.

Just as I was setting down the last utensil, there was a knock on the door and I froze for a second. They were here.

"It's your other boyfriend," Kayla hissed in my ear with a chuckle.

I turned beet red. "He's not. He's nothing," I hissed as Martha went to answer the door.

"I'm going to tell him you said that."

"Don't you dare."

I looked up as the twins entered the room, greeting everyone loudly and making the room feel ten times more lively-not that it wasn't already, but I'd noticed the twins always brought so much extra personality to the room.

I met Fred's eyes and he smiled at me. I smiled back shyly. It was strange, but the fact that I'd told him about the diary had not only made me feel a little better about the whole situation, but I liked that Fred and I shared a secret that no one else knew. It was something that real friends did. In fact, all of these people here were my friends. They had shown up tonight because of me. And it was making it harder and harder for me to want to leave.