"Aliens. Flying saucers and everything. She used to talk about it a lot when I was little, but Reggie kept telling her how crazy it was and eventually she just stopped."

"That's... sad."

Trouble shrugs. "Yeah."

"I have email, you know? If you skipped town we could still talk."

He sighs. "Yeah. Would we, though?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Maybe when you take away the cake we don't actually have that much in common," he says.

"I'd read the emails if you had things you wanted to say to me. I'd answer them if you wanted to hear about what was going on on my end."

"Maybe it would be nice," he says. "Maybe it wouldn't. Don't know until I try it. If I run away, I will."

Bella writes down her email address for him on a corner of notebook paper and hands it over.

"I don't really have anywhere to put it," he observes, grinning wryly.

"Memorize it. Tuck it in your shoe," she shrugs. "Lose it and ask me for it again when you come back to school."

"Okay."

"Should I even bother finding out what Renée would do with a mistreated kindergartener?"

"Probably not."

"How well does short-term escaping work? Would it improve anything if you were invited to stay over on our couch a lot?"

"It might. It'd be nice, anyway. And it if fucked anything up I could just stop doing it."

"Okay. I'll figure out some way to explain it, I guess."

"Yeah, good luck with that."

Bella shrugs. "Hey, Mom, the buses suck this time of day and he doesn't give out his address so you can't drive him. Gosh, Mom, we lost track of time playing Parcheesi, I'm sure it's fine with his folks if he just goes to school with us in the morning. Look, Mom, he brought us bread pudding, the kind you refrigerate overnight and put in the oven in the morning for breakfast, he should be here when we eat it."

"Awwwww," he says delightedly.

"What?"

"I like it that you liked it when I said that."