I wrote: Why did I get an empty room?

And: Where did all the keys come from?

Then: Will Franklin forgive me?

Caroline looked at that, crossed it out, and wrote, How can I show Franklin that I still want to be friends? She squeezed my hand for a second, then let go.

I walked around the room, reading old questions that I hadn't looked at yet.

Then I came to this one: What will my Elise be?

"Would you watch Ava for an hour?" Annie found me on the porch, waving to Caroline as she left with her mom.

"I don't know how."

"Don't be silly. You play with her all the time. She's been fed and changed and just needs someone to be with her. I want to run to the store with Bessie and we'll be in and out quicker without her. I wouldn't ask you if I didn't know it would be okay. And just in case, my cell-phone number is on the kitchen counter."

"Okay," I said. She handed Ava to me. She'd grown since she'd come to live with us.

Maybe Annie could see that in me, too, and not just Ava. Maybe that was why Annie wouldn't have left me alone in the house with Ava three months ago, but it was okay now.

Aunt Bessie and Annie left.

"Hi, Ava," I said, imitating Annie's gentle Ava-voice. "How about we go ride in the swing?"

I carefully pushed her legs through the openings in her swing, sat her down, buckled her in. Then I set the pace of the swing and stepped back. Ava was smiling, so I guess it was a good idea.

"Why are you here, Ava?"

Ava burbled.

"Why are you here, in my house?"

"Ous."

"Anyway, now I think it's good you're here."

"Goo?" she asked.

"Yes, goo."

That night, I collected all my messages from Dad.

There were seven.

QUESTION.

BELIEVE.

CHOOSE TO LIVE, CHOOSE TO LOVE.

KNOW WHAT YOU COME FROM.

SEEK TO LEARN.

UNDERSTAND THOSE YOU LOVE.

TREASURE YOUR LIFE.

I spread them out in a circle around me on my bedroom floor. They all seemed to be about deciding what was important in your life.

But there had been eight keys, and only seven messages, so what was that empty room for?

I could only imagine.

And then I realized: that was the point.

I knew what the eighth room was for.

It was for me to decide.

It could be whatever I needed it to be, whatever I wanted it to be.

And the truth, I suddenly understood, was that so could I.

Part III.

Settling Up with Friends and Foes.

The next morning I got up really early for a cooking project. Then Uncle Hugh drove me to school. I waited by Franklin's locker with a thermos of milk-free hot cocoa and an envelope.

When the bus kids started streaming in, I looked for Franklin. He seemed kind of gloomy.

"It's for you." I held out the thermos. "And this," I added, handing him an envelope. "You don't have to read it now. When you want to."

He took the envelope and the thermos and put them on the top shelf of his locker. I started to leave, but then I turned back and asked, "Do you hate me?"

Franklin took a minute to answer. "If I hated you, I would have turned you in."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I said, "We have a puzzle to finish, you know. I can't do it by myself. Uncle Hugh had to move it for Thanksgiving, but we should finish it before Christmas so Aunt Bessie can use the table for dinner." Franklin didn't say anything. "Well, anyway, read the note, if you want to." Then I managed to walk away.

Inside the envelope was a list: TEN REASONS FRANKLIN IS A GOOD FRIEND.

1. He's always willing to help, even if he could get in trouble for it.

2. He'll always cover for you to keep you from getting in trouble.

3. He's trustworthy.

4. He's so smart. He uses his ideas to help you, and he wants you to know all the interesting things he knows.

5. He's fun to spend time with.

6. He doesn't get mad at you if you call him names (though he doesn't deserve to be called them). He knows that he is none of those yucky things.

7. He seems at home at my house.

8. He has always been there, since I was little.

9. Things aren't the same without him.

10. He is forgiving.

PS I'm really, really sorry. I'm going to try harder to be a good friend from now on.

Later, I thought I could see the shadow of a hot-chocolate mustache on Franklin's upper lip.

I was sitting on the porch in my winter coat, waiting, when Franklin came by. I'd been hoping he would.

"Hi."

"Hi."

He sat down next to me.

We don't hug, so I knocked a light fist against Franklin's shoulder. Then we sat there for a few minutes, watching our breath curl and disappear in the cold air.

"So a you good?"

"I guess so."

"With me?"

"I don't know."

Why should he be? I took a deep breath. "I have to tell you some hard stuff."

"Hard stuff?"

"Yeah, like what's been up with me lately."

"Oh a go ahead." Then Franklin waited, in his usual Franklin way, ready to listen.

"At the beginning of the year, I started to feel embarra.s.sed about some of the things we did together. I didn't like getting made fun of at school. But even before school started, something felt different, even when we were by ourselves."

"I embarra.s.sed you?" Franklin asked.

I nodded. "I thought that some of the teasing and stuff would go away if I wasn't so close to you. So I tried to show that I wasn't. I'm really sorry that I did that."

"How sorry?"

"Really, really sorry. More sorry than I've ever been, about anything. I want to be friends still, even ifa"and I know maybe I blew ita"even if it won't be the same."

Franklin thought for a while. I picked up a stick and started tracing the cracks between the wood slats of the porch.

"I was really mad at you," Franklin said finally. "You went from being the person who was nicest to me to the person who was meanest. Why didn't you just tell me what was going on?"

"I didn't know that was what was going on. I had to figure it out."

"What about Caroline? Are you still going to be friends with her?"

"Yeah," I said. "I really like Caroline. And what about the people you've been hanging out with? Are you going to hang out with them still?"

"Probably."

"That's okay," I said. "I've been thinking, because of the things Dad left me a the rooms and the messages. We have plenty of room for people a in our lives, I mean. Especially the ones who make us be the people we want to be. Because I really missed you, but I also missed a who I used to be with you a before. Do you know what I mean?"

He nodded.

"Do you remember when we pretended we'd found a cure for cancer?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think we could really find one?"

"Maybe, if we tried hard enough."

"That's how my dad died."

"We'd need a time machine, too, then?"

I nodded.

Franklin did some more thinking. He said, "Can I have more cocoa now?"

"Sure."

"No milk," he reminded me.

"I know."