"Callum Andrew," she warned.

I sighed. "My mother wrote it."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's just something she and my Pop used to tell us as kids."

"It kind of reminds me of something." Everly turned to me. "One of my nurses gave me a box of paper dolls for my birthday one year. Do you know what those are?"

"Yeah my sister had them."

Everly smiled. "I liked the idea of those dolls. You could just snap their lives on them, and if they wanted something new, something different, you just chose something else, and suddenly a little girl was a business woman, or a cheerleader. I started to think about life like that, how interchangeable we all are. When I first met Truscott he was about to have his millionth surgery. And all I could think as I watched him was if I could just snap off my heart and give it to him he'd be all better. But it's never going to be that easy. I was born with hopelessness, and chances are, Truscott will die with the same hopeless feeling. His mother will endure that same hopeless feeling."

I tutted, jokingly. "You have too much doubt in my ability to steal your heart, Everly Anne."

"That," she said, turning away, "Is so very untrue. If anything, I believe too much in your ability."

"Good to hear, as I am one skilled man when it comes to stealing the hearts of pretty girls."

"Oh are you?" she laughed.

"No," I replied. "Not really."

"I do doubt that."

We stared at the door for a moment.

Everly finally asked, "So, how do we begin, Callum Andrew?"

"Hmm," I thought. "How about with our first day of freedom. We start with freedom."

"Freedom," she echoed. "Freedom sounds like a dream."

My father was in the kitchen as we entered the house. He startled as if we interrupted him from his thoughts.

"Hey Pop."

"Callum."

He looked at Everly but didn't acknowledge her further. I wasn't sure if I should have lied or asked him if he remembered treating her, but my gut told me to only say her name and let the scene play out organically.

"This is Everly."

"Um," she looked at me, "Tell me where your bathroom is?"

"Oh. Yeah sure. First door down the hallway." I pointed her in the right direction and she disappeared quickly.

"Girlfriend?" My dad asked around a sip of clear.

"No. Um . . . she's from class. Timothy is making us conduct a differential on her." Say something. Please. Remember.

He was quiet for a moment. "She looks well."

"She has some kind of condition. I haven't figured it out yet."

"Yes." That's all he said before he swallowed down the rest of his drink. His eyes glanced over my shoulder to the French doors behind me. "Tatum and Nicholas showed up while you were gone. He's got the barbecue fired up. Spend some time with your friends. School can wait."

I already knew the answer. "Will you join us, Pop?"

"Maybe in a little while." Because not enough clear had made its way down, and he liked to drink away his sorrow all alone.

I waited for her at the end of the hall. She walked shyly toward me, and I offered her my hand.

"Do you mind if I give you a tour later? I have a few friends here-we don't get to see each other too often-and I'd like you to meet them."