"I'm trying to talk my parents into moving to that new neighborhood you said they were going to build up here. Where is it?" Marcy asked.

"Over there, past that house and down toward the river just a little." We were both old enough to know that it was an irrational dream, but we allowed ourselves toDANA S Valley * 95embrace the notion just the same.

"Hmm. I think I'd like it here too. Can you ride your bike farther?"

"Mom says we can go on the neighborhood streets, but we have to stay off the main road." Then my emotions flopped back to the grim reality. "I don't know why we'd want to go, though. We don't know anybody."

"You will." Marcy tossed an arm over my shoulder and marched me back around to the front of the house. "It's a great house. And I expect to be invited to sleep over all the time."

I smiled. "Oh, you will. I told Mom we'd better just make another room for you." If only that could have been a serious offer. If only Marcy could have just come along with us.j*& & &.Summer was pa.s.sing slowly. We registered at the new school and began to pack for our upcoming move. The building of our new house had progressed quickly at first. It had taken shape almost overnight, and then everything slowed to a crawl. By outward appearances, it was nearly done. But on the inside, improvements seemed minuscule, as I saw it. The builders fussed with the plumbing and wiring and such things much longer than I thought necessary. But they finally got around to finis.h.i.+ng walls, and the rooms began to make sense. That was the most exciting part of all. Where there had only been a jungle of two-by-fours, there were now rooms and closets and hallways. I found the whole process both frustrating and fascinating.

96.

There were plenty of trees in our new wooded front yard, but Corey's window was at the back of the house overlooking the hillside. One night he brought his little bag of colored yarn to Dad, reminding him of his need for a tree he could watch. Remaining true to his word, Dad took us all to the nursery to pick out one tree each. There was plenty of room in the big backyard to plant them. Brett went for a blue spruce, Corey picked a mountain ash so there'd be berries for his birds, and Dana, who loved things big and sweeping, selected a weeping willow, though it would be many years until it fulfilled its potential. I had a hard time making up my mind, but I finally chose a sugar maple. I looked forward to the day when I'd look out my window and see its array of fall colors.

The next task was to get them planted. We paced back and forth over the yard, lining up new bedroom windows to be sure that we'd each see our own trees. It was fun- but it was a lot of work. I think Dad was especially tired by the time the task was done. He had done almost all the digging. But now we all felt like the new house was really ours. We had planted trees and staked claim.

The day finally came when it was time to move in. Our little house had sold quickly, and the new owners were anxious to take possession. The country house wasn't quite finished yet. There were still moldings to add and a few cupboards in the kitchen and bathroom that had to be hung because the wrong ones arrived the first time and they'd had to be reordered. Most of the painting had been completed. All except the laundry room and Dad's office. But once the flooring had been put in, the whole place had finally begun to feel livable. It would be home.

Mom left a big sheet of thick gray paper by the frontDANA S VALLEY * 97.door. The builders had used it to protect the new vinyl and carpets from their dirty boots. Now Mom would keep it there until Corey got used to taking his shoes off on the front mat. Our yard was still solid mud whenever it rained, with several planks thrown down for a makes.h.i.+ft sidewalk.

We had tried to think of the best ceremony for moving day. Brett wanted to shoot off some fireworks that were left over from the Fourth of July. Dad thought that might be a little too much commotion.

Dana suggested we could each write out our thoughts and read them to one another before we went inside. But since none of the rest of us spent time journaling the way Dana did, we weren't convinced it would be a good experience. Dana's notebooks were already filled with thoughts describing her feelings about the last few months. She'd let me read a few pages here and there. And I enjoyed it. But not enough to start writing in a journal of my own-and it was the last thing I wanted to do in the excitement of moving day.

In the end, our family and the friends who had come to help gathered around Dad as he said a prayer of dedication for the house while the moving van waited behind us in the driveway. Then he picked up Mom, much to her surprise, and carried her across the threshold. We'd all been in and out so many times already, it seemed rather strange. But I secretly liked the fact that Dad did it. He didn't normally do things like that-unexpected things. Things that surprised even Mom. I got the feeling she liked it too.

Once those formalities were behind us, there was a frenzy of activity. Furniture was carried in first, followed by more boxes than I had ever imagined. Most of them 98.

seemed to be labeled Kitchen, but my job was to watch for those that needed to go upstairs to bedrooms and lug them up if I could. Dad and the other men were unloading boxes onto the front porch; then Brett and two of his friends were bringing them inside and placing them into their a.s.signed rooms. Dana was helping Mom unpack in the kitchen, and Corey was flying everywhere underfoot. I thought I'd better give him a job before someone inadvertently trampled him.

"Hey, Corey, how about putting your books on your shelves? Mommy would be so proud to see you're helping." "Okay." I had a feeling he would start with a flourish but lose interest quickly. I turned out to be right.

By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. One of Mom's friends stopped by with a ca.s.serole, for which Mom just couldn't seem to say thank-you enough, and then we collapsed around our kitchen table. We were half starved-but almost too tired to eat.

Only Grandma seemed to be able to carry the conversation. She'd stayed with a friend until late in the afternoon. Upon arriving, she exclaimed over and over again about her rooms.

Right in the middle of the bustle of the day, Uncle Patrick had arrived to deliver some of the furnis.h.i.+ngs from her house. The pieces she'd decided to keep had been placed in storage when her home was put up for sale, and the rest had been auctioned off. Now she was delighted to see that the remaining furniture had been brought in and set up in her suite.

"Oh, David, the armoire fits so nicely between the windows, and-Brett, how about another serving of ca.s.serole?" She didn't skip a beat as she scooped out moreDANA'S Valley * 99noodles, chicken, and sauce onto Brett's plate. "And my "to.

;tspread and chair coordinate so well with the color of the m,walls. I have to admit, Angela, that I wasn't sure when you suggested I use that paint. I had always kept my bedroom 'yellow with that bedspread, but it certainly looks good against that shade of green. What did you call it again?" "Moss," Mom sighed. We were all excited for Grandma, but we were just too tired to express it right then.

"Moss. I'll have to remember that when I write to my friends."

I I.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

COREY HAD TAKEN a third helping of oatmeal, and no one seemed to notice. It was the first day of our new school, and attentions were diverted elsewhere. Dana had been late coming to breakfast, and even now she was complaining of aches and pains. Mom tried to question her, wondering if she might be coming down with another flu, but there seemed to be no symptoms other than the aches. We'd already nursed her through an episode of flu since we had moved into the new house, and now I was a little perturbed. Surely she wasn't doing this just to get out of school on the very first day. But in my heart I knew this wasn't in Dana's nature.

"How'd you sleep?" Dad inquired.

Everyone was so preoccupied with Dana that no one was paying any attention elsewhere. I decided since no one else had noticed the dribbles of oatmeal running across the table from the pot to Corey's bowl, I'd better step in. "Corey, I think you've had plenty."

He looked at me crosswise. "I'm big today. So I can eat more."

"Dana, I just can't figure it out," Mom was saying.102."You don't have a fever. Maybe it's just a growth spurt that's making your back and arms ache. Though it seems like I've heard more often about leg aches with growing pains. What do you think, Dave? Should she just stay home?"

By this time Dad was standing behind Dana and feeling along her spine. "When you say it aches, honey, what do you mean? Does it hurt in one place like a bruise, or does it feel more like you've strained a muscle or something?"

Corey began pouring his third serving of milk into his bowl, splas.h.i.+ng freely.

"I don't know, Daddy. It just sort of aches. It's almost like the pain moves around. I can't explain it. Maybe I should just take some Tylenol. It'll probably go away once I get to school."

"Dave, I don't like it," Mom murmured. "It's too strange a thing to just let it go. I think I'll call Dr. Miller. I'd feel better if we got it checked out. Though I'm not sure what more he can tell us."

Dad nodded, and Mom headed for the phone in the office, where she could hear better.

"I know just how you feel, Dana." Grandma, who was now frequently joining us at the breakfast table, patted Dana's hand. "I get those aches and pains too. Lucky for you, you'll outgrow yours."

When Corey had dumped three large spoonfuls of brown sugar into his bowl, I couldn't keep silent any longer. "Doesn't anybody else see this?" Once I had their attention, I motioned at the mess around Corey's dish and its heaping contents.

"It's just sugar, dear." Grandma smiled at Corey. "It won't hurt him."DANA S Valley * 103I wanted to argue with her but instead turned back to Dana as she spoke.

"I'll be okay, Daddy. But I'd like to go lie down. If I can just rest for a while, then I think I'll be okay. Maybe *I could eo to school after lunch." I1 That was as much as I could take. I had piano to practice, and I was glad for a chance to get away from the chaos around the table. Corey could eat all the oatmeal and sugar he wanted. I was just glad to wash my hands of it.

I would even have to admit that I banged on the piano slightly harder than was necessary, just so I wouldn't have to hear the jumble of conversation in the kitchen. Before I was quite finished, Mom popped her head into the living room and informed me that Dana wouldn't be going to school. Perhaps if Dana felt better by noon, she could be dropped off for the last part of the school day. Mom also asked that I watch out for Corey and make sure he got to his new cla.s.sroom. He'd need help finding his way. Mom had planned to take Corey herself but was now waiting for a call back from Dr. Miller hoping he could see Dana during the morning. I told her I would go with him and then cross the street to my own school. Dana had managed to spoil Corey's first day of first grade, and my own nervousness was now magnified by her absence. I left the piano bench to gather my backpack and trudged upstairs to see that Corey had his school supplies together. Just as we were tying his shoes, Mom appeared at the doorway to his room, camera in hand.

"I want to take a picture of your first day of grade school, honey. And, Erin, I need a picture of your first day of junior high. Junior high! You're growing up so fast I can hardly believe it. Stay just like you are, you two.104.I'd like a picture of you helping Corey, Erin. Smile."

I smiled dutifully and followed behind Corey while Mom escorted him to the front door to take the traditional first-day photos. Dad and Brett followed too.

After the camera clicked a few times in various poses with various family members, Mom and Dad each gave Corey a big hug and kiss and sent the three of us kids on our way down the long driveway. I looked back at Mom. She seemed kind of small-deflated. I don't think she'd been looking forward to this day when all of us were in school all day. Corey's kindergarten really didn't count, since he was home by noon. And I could tell that she was beginning to truly worry about Dana.

The bus didn't come up our lane. It was going to be a long way to walk on snowy winter days, but for now it was pretty. I looked up through the morning light that filtered through the leafy canopy above.

"I'm big today," Corey reminded me. "I'm going to school all day."

"That's right, squirt," Brett answered him. "And pretty soon, you'll understand what a mixed blessing that is." He grinned across at me, and we walked on in silence.

Boarding the school bus was a difficult thing to do. Even at our old school, I never quite got past a little anxiety that there wouldn't be a seat available for Marcy and me to sit together. It never mattered to Marcy, because if there wasn't she'd just ask somebody if they could switch so that we'd have room. I wished with all my heart that Marcy was with me now, especially when I didn't have even Dana with me.

Brett climbed up the steps first and turned, his eyes sizing up the situation on the bus. The smallest kids wereDANA S Valley & 105seated near the driver and the bigger kids had claimed the back. All eyes were watching to see what we'd do next. rBrett worked his way casually down the aisle and chose a *seat with the big kids.

As for me, I was much more comfortable sitting forward with Corey, so I pushed him into an empty seat near ,the front and slid in beside him. No sooner had we taken <>

l

the seat than the little girl in front of us started a stringIfof questions.

1.1.

"Who are you guys? Do you live in that new house?"

"Yup," Corey answered confidently. "We were building it this summer, and now we're all moved in."

"What's your name?" the girl prodded.

"I'm Corey. This is Erin. And my brother back there is Brett. See?" Corey pointed back to Brett's seat with a wide wave. "That's him. That's my brother."

Brett pretended not to notice, looking busy adjusting a strap on his backpack.

"What grade are you in?"

"I'm in first grade because this is my first day of school. But it's not really my first day of school because last year I went to kindergarten. It's my first day of all- day school, though."

"I'm in first grade too." The little interviewer in the seat ahead announced the fact as if the two now shared a special position in society. I was beginning to like her. She had a funny, matter-of-fact way of speaking. And I was glad she was conversing with Corey. I had been a little afraid he wouldn't find the new school very friendly, though I couldn't imagine him not being able to chatter away with someone.

I smiled at the girl. She had an upturned nose and a106.cute little curly ponytail with a red bow. "What's your 9."I'm Rayna. We live in the house next to yours. We built our house too. But Daddy says we paid too much for it. I like it though. I think it's nice."

Corey puffed out his chest and commented, "It costs a bunch to build a house, my daddy says."

These two seemed perfectly suited to each other. I watched out the window and tried not to think about the long day that stretched out in front of me. I wondered what Marcy was doing right now, and whom she'd be sitting with this year on the school bus. I supposed it would be Carli. Then I thought of Dana. I missed her. I hoped with all my heart she would be better soon-maybe by tomorrow.

By Wednesday night it was all I could do to keep myself from rus.h.i.+ng into our church in search of Marcy. I forced myself to walk at a dignified pace. Dana followed along behind, apparently much more patient about sharing stories of the new school than I was. Thankfully she had felt well enough to come on Tuesday. I described to Marcy the teachers and the building. I told her about the kids I'd already met and the odd ones I had observed.

Marcy was dramatically empathetic. Then she, in turn, groaned about the cla.s.ses she'd begun and enthused about seeing some of the familiar faces again. It made me homesick to listen, but I drank it all in anyway.

Dana and Carli were standing near us, speaking in quieter tones. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye IDANA'S Valley * 107noticed Carli rush toward the rest room and Dana leaning back against the wall holding her nose. I could only stare. There was blood dribbling down Dana's hand and splas.h.i.+ng onto her s.h.i.+rt. I hurried over just as Carli ran back with tissues.

"Dana, sit down," Carli instructed. "Tip your head back and pinch your nose."

For a fleeting moment I wondered if it was possible that Carli had actually hit Dana. But the ridiculous thought was immediately dismissed.

"What happened?" Marcy and I asked the question at the same time.

"I don't know." Dana's voice was m.u.f.fled behind the tissue. "Erin, please go get Mom. Please!"

I ran. By the time I reached the preschool room I was breathless and a little panic-stricken. "Mom." My whisper was breathy and loud. "Dana's nose is bleeding. She wants you."

Mom hurried out of the room, stopping only to tell the neighboring teacher to please watch her cla.s.s. Then she headed back toward the stairs where Dana was seated. Already a small crowd of concerned adults had gathered, and Dana was pressing herself against the wall as if she'd like it to swallow her up.

"Honey, what happened? Can you get it to stop? Did you bang it?"

I could see tears forming in Dana's eyes. She looked frightened and embarra.s.sed. "I want to go home. Mom, can somebody take me home?"

"Yes, honey, just as soon as we get the bleeding stopped, we'll take you home."

I saw the blood on Dana's s.h.i.+rt, and I knew she couldn't go to youth group with Carli now that she had108.ruined her clothes. But it hardly seemed fair that the rest of us would have to leave too.

"Erin, please go see if you can find Dad."

I marched up the stairs with Marcy in tow, her questions flying after me. "What happened? Do you know how it started? Did she hit it on something? I've never seen anybody get a nosebleed without hitting it on something."

I a.s.sured Marcy that I had absolutely no idea.

We knocked on the door of the boardroom and timidly peeked inside. Dad was seated on the opposite side of the room. When he saw us, he excused himself and moved quickly to the door.

The news of Dana's nosebleed brought an unprecedented response. He flew down the stairs two at a time and sat down beside Dana who, by then, had stopped bleeding. "Honey, are you okay?"

She answered by leaning her head against him and starting to cry. Carli was hovering close, holding Dana's hand.

But the crisis seemed to be over. I breathed freely again. Dana appeared to be okay. I turned toward Marcy, ready now to go to the youth room. But Mom hurried up with a bundle of coats.

"Here's your coat." She handed it to me and crouched beside Dana. "We'll get you home, honey."

People still shuffled about. No one had really left. But Mom was helping Dana into her jacket. We were the ones who'd be leaving.

Dana was the center of attention, and we were all going to pack up and go home without ever going to our activities of the evening. It was unbelievable. There was still so much I hadn't had a chance to tell Marcy.D."Erin, get the boys, please."

I obeyed. But my heart was far from cooperative. It was so unfair. It wasn't my fault Dana had to go home. Why did we all have to go? But even as I was complaining I knew it was unreasonable to expect my parents to make a 4%special trip back.

IIt was still early when we arrived home, but I headed ?up for bed anyway. I had finished my homework as quickly as I could after school in antic.i.p.ation of my first night in youth group. With this milestone stripped away, there was nothing left to do except to watch TV, and I wasn't in the mood for that. I was much more interested in lying in the dark feeling sorry for myself.

Dana walked in and out of the bedroom two or three times in preparation for bed. I ignored her, feigning sleep. She was the last person I wanted to talk to just then. Finally, I could hear her slide her feet down between her sheets and snuggle into her pillow to get comfortable. There was a long, heavy silence, and I thought she must have been drifting off to sleep. Then she whispered across to me in the stillness.

"Erin, I think I'm going to die." The words seared themselves into my mind. Surely I hadn't heard correctly. I flipped over to face her and whispered back anxiously, "What are you talking about?"

I realized then that she had been crying silently. And I felt horrid for having been feeling and acting so selfishly. On impulse, I slipped out of my bed and crossed to sit down beside her. My voice had softened with sympathy. Suddenly I really wanted to understand what was troubling her.

"There's something wrong with me," Dana said, her voice m.u.f.fled. "I can feel it. I've been thinking about it110.for a long time, but now I'm just so scared. I really think I'm going to die."

"Dana, don't say that. You're not going to die. It was just a nosebleed. Lots of kids get nosebleeds."

"But I'm so tired, Erin. I've been tired for months and months. And this summer I kept getting sick. Then the aches started. Sometimes during the night I can hardly sleep I ache so much. I don't know what to do. I get so scared."

"Why didn't you wake someone up? Why didn't you tell Mom and Dad it was that bad? Why didn't you even tell me? I didn't know you were that sick."

"I was hoping I could be wrong. I thought I was just being paranoid. But then, the nosebleed. I can't ignore it anymore. Something is very wrong." Her voice broke, and I dropped down closer to her.

"It'll be okay. Mom's going to take you to the doctor. They'll find out what's wrong, and they'll fix it." Tears welled up in my eyes. "You're not going to die, Dana," I repeated with emphasis. "You're not even old."

We sniffled together for a while, neither of us talking. The weight of Dana's words was just too great. I couldn't imagine being thirteen and being scared of dying. It was just too incredible to think about.