A Friend at Midnight by Caroline B. Cooney

particularly sappy Clifford. It was one of the million things that had made Michael want to live someplace else. A normal Michael would have taken Nathaniel outside to experiment with throwing stuff down storm drains, leaping off the carport roof or rolling each other around the yard inside the trash barrels.
    This Michael sighed, nodded and followed Nate over to the television, as if the toddler were the one in charge.
    Lily fished out the envelope, wiped it clean with a paper towel and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. Then she turned on the kitchen computer to see what e-mails had arrived.
    Reb e-mailed like a person planning to publish a ten-volume diary. The very first afternoon at college she had met a great great great guy named Freddie. Within hours, Reb knew Freddie was perfect. In days, she and Freddie were a perfect couple. Lily knew more about Freddie than she did about the President.
    This time a word popped out at her. In the header listing other addresses to whom Reb was sending the same message (her three best friends from high school, her favorite high school teacher, a cousin, Mom, Lily) Lily saw the address “denrose.”
    She was stunned. The snake knew the very same details about Reb’s life that Lily did. But then she read the latest installment of her sister’s perfect life with the perfect guy on the perfect campus with the perfect roommates and the perfect professors and she was filled with an unexpected joy.
    Her sister was not comfortless. Had not been orphaned. Didn’t even know that Michael and Lily had lost a parent. In fact, swept up in the wonderful new world of college, Reb seemed not to remember that Michael and Lily might also have a life. She didn’t write, “How’s third grade, Michael?” She didn’t write, “How awful not to have Amanda in any classes!”
    But that was fine. Somehow, by only an hour or two, Reb had missed the nightmare of Michael’s return.
    Denrose.
    It sounded like a street in a new subdivision, where the builder used his children’s names, so you had to live on Linda Lane or Kevin Court.
    That night Lily sat up late, not doing homework. How could she pay off the credit card bill? She didn’t have a checking account. Banks would know how, but Lily hated asking anybody anywhere how to do anything. She liked knowing already.
    It was past eleven o’clock. Michael and Nathaniel had been asleep for ages.
    The house was very quiet.
    Lily heard Mom turn off the news downstairs. She heard Kells say, “Wait a minute, Judith. I wanted to see—”
    â€œI have to talk to you about something,” said Mom, and gently and completely she shut the TV room door.
    It had to be about Michael. It was about time Mom started worrying about Michael. Feather light, Lily zipped down the carpeted stairs to listen in.
    â€œHe e-mailed me at school,” said her mother.
    There could be only one “he.” Denrose. Lily had never thought of denrose reaching Mom at school. Dad could reach Mom, and Lily would never know.
    â€œDennis is not going to pay any more child support. He says the children don’t love him and he’s out of the equation.”
    Lily stared into the wallpaper. A picture had once hung there. She could see its little nail hole, hidden in a flower. Other people repainted and redecorated. But Mom did not see things. She only heard them. Her world was full of notes and chords and melodies.
    Dad’s abandoning me, too? thought Lily. He’s driving away from me, too? Michael and I are out of his equation.
    She had yelled—You’re not my father!
    Now he was yelling back—And you’re not my daughter! So there!
    Lily heard the distinct thud of the recliner.
    Kells’s favorite possession was the dusty blue corduroy recliner on which he lay to watch TV. It had a long stick handle. He’d come home from work, throw the stick and sigh with relief when he was lying there