As the next few weeks passed, my life went on, as normally as it could.

I cried myself to sleep every night.

I missed them more than words could describe.

I was alone.

It was like acid, eating at my heart. Burning through my happiness as soon as it came.

But in other ways, the eating acid became a sort of normalcy for me. I began to grow a little used to the pain. I grew used to Nonna's desperate phone calls to the lawyer, begging her to let us children stay with her, even though we weren't blood relatives and Mom and Dad had written in their will to place us under the care of Dad's father.

"He—He is not well," Nonna pleaded. "Ms. Crete, please, the childrens' grandfather is not well! He—his wife died last year, and—" whenever Nonna got desperate or upset, she sank more deeply into her thick Italian accent.

"Yes, Mrs. Mocci, I hear you," the lawyer would say. "But you aren't their relative. And their parents' will said that they must be placed under the care of their paternal grandfather. We'll send a team over to his house and check it out. We'll make sure that he's fit to care for them, Mrs. Mocci."

Jesse came over for dinner frequently, and he acted the same, friendly way towards me as he did to Nonna. It was a little annoying, honestly. He still took me out to places, but I wasn't sure of his intentions. Did he just want to be friends or something? Was he lonely? I didn't have any idea.

Willa was as sulky and angry as ever. I wanted to help her, but what could I do? She wouldn't open up to me at all. She was just... there, and she swore and hissed like an angry cat if you tried to hug her or talk to her.

Z was hard to read. I could sense something was going on with him. I mean, duh, we were all grieving and hurting and sad, but Z seemed to cope with loss differently than Willa. He... well, I didn't know yet. But I needed to find out. I missed my little siblings.

"Children," Nonna said at dinner one day. "Nikki already knows this, but you little ones don't know yet."

Willa scoffed at 'little ones'. "The hell," she muttered.

"Willa Jacquelyn!" Nonna said loudly. "I have had enough of your language! I have been trying to keep this family together for these weeks, and you will quit with your sour mood! You are grieving. You are sad. But you will speak no more unless you can speak lovingly to your family!"

Willa looked up, eyes wide with anger. "What the—"

"Now," Nonna said calmly. "The law has demanded of me that I hand you children over to the care of your paternal grandfather."

Z choked on a bite of food, his face white. "N—no—"

Nonna continued, "They have inspected the home of your grandfather and declared him and his house fit to care for you."

Willa muttered something under her breath.

Nonna looked sharply at Willa, and Willa shut up.

"Your grandfather will come to pick you up in two weeks."

We stared at her. "I didn't know that part," I said softly.

"That's because I did not find out until earlier today." Nonna sighed. "Charlie is your grandfather's name. He called me on the telephone and..." Nonna shuddered delicately. "His accent is what you would call Southern, is it not?"

"Where's he from?" I asked, watching Z across the table pick at his food.

"Carolina," Nonna answered. "The coast."

"North or South?" Willa asked quietly. She seemed to have calmed down a bit from Nonna's scolding.

"How should I know? He lives near Beaufort." Nonna threw her hands into the air for emphasis.

"Both states have a Beaufort," I explained. "North Carolina has Beaufort," I said, pronouncing it like Boh-fert, "and South has Beaufort," pronounced like Bew-fert.

"Whatever. They are both the same. Anyway—Zachary, do you dislike my cooking?"

Z looked caught. "No—it's very good." He took a large bite of pasta.

Nonna did not look convinced. "You are too skinny," she said. "I give you food, but you do not eat. You are hungry, but you do not eat. I look across the table and I see a hungry, skinny boy. Eat!"

Z's face turned whiter than before, if that was possible. He quickly shoveled food into his mouth until Nonna looked satisfied.

"So... Grandpa Charlie? Is that what he wants us to call him?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Z, since he seemed very uncomfortable.

"He did not say." Nonna stared down at her plate. "I wish—I wish that you children could stay with me—but that isn't so."

I looked at Willa. Her face was red and blotchy, and she looked like she was crying.

I stood. Nonna looked up at me. "Willa, are you okay?" I asked her uncertainly.

She shot me a red eyed glare. "No."

"Okay." I grabbed her arm and dragged her up from her seat, taking her out to the yard.

"What the crap, Nikki? It's freezing out here!"

"Willa, tell me what's wrong." I had to get her to open up, to talk.

She stared up at me. "You know what's wrong, you idiot. We're all alone now." Hot tears slipped down her red cheeks.

"We're not alone," I told her. "We have Nonna, and Z."

"Z is a kid! He's got no one, either! And Nonna..." Willa shook her head. "Nonna couldn't help us even if she tried."

"Look, she wants to help us, she does!" I told my sister. "But she can't do anything! What do you want her to do? Break the law? Keep us?"

Willa shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "I...I don't know," she admitted. Her voice sounded so small.

I sighed. "I know how you feel. I wish she could keep us too."

"No, you don't!" Willa shouted. "I wish none of this happened to us. Why did it happen, Nikki? Why us? We're just kids." She started to sob.

I put my arms around her. "I don't know."

"I don't wanna go," Willa whispered to me. "I don't want to go with that old man."

"Me either. But... he might be nice. He might have a swimming pool. Or live in a mansion. Or he might live in a castle," I said, trying to cheer her up.

"A castle?" Willa asked. "Yeah, right."

"Or he might be a king of a country somewhere, incognito," I said.

"With a Southern accent? That's about as American as you can get," Willa replied softly.

"Yeah, I guess." I hugged Willa harder. "We need to not get our hopes up, though. He's Dad's dad, and Dad never talked about him before. We need to steel ourselves for what that could mean, Willa."

Willa sniffled. "The law inspected him, though, and they said he was okay. I bet he'll be fine."

"Yeah." I didn't tell her that I highly doubted that the law actually cared about us and how we were raised.

"He's Grandmother's husband, right?" Willa asked me after a moment.

"Was, I think. I'm pretty sure they got divorced."

"Oh."

"I think that's why Dad never talks—talked about him. He was mad that they split."

Willa caught my slip. "I miss them so much."

"Me too," I whispered.

"I just wanna be a kid again," Willa told me. "All this stuff—it's grown up stuff. We're just kids."

"I know."

We were silent after that, holding each other and each waiting for the other to speak.

After a few minutes, we headed inside.

. . .

I stopped outside the bathroom again. The door was locked; I'd tried it already. "Is someone in there?" I asked.

There was a light on underneath the door. So the person in there must be ignoring me, which seemed really rude. I had to go.

I knocked again. "Hey, I have to go!"

Silence.

Rolling my eyes, I put my ear to the door. Retching, vomiting noises. Then the person gagged. Frowning at what I heard, I called, "Are you okay?"

The noises stopped.

"Seriously," I told whoever was in there. "Are you sick?"

The doorknob turned slowly. The door opened. Z stood in the bathroom doorway, looking at me questioningly. "Yeah?"

I frowned. "Were you throwing up just now?"

He frowned as well. "Um, no—"

"Yes, you were. Why were you throwing up, Z? Are you sick?"

He sighed. "Just... something I got from school."

I could see the lie in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

I don't know why I didn't confront him then about it. I probably should've. But I was tired and cowardly and sick of carrying other people's burdens. "Okay," I told him. I ruffled his hair, even though he was too old for that. "'Night, Z."

"'Night, Nikki."

. . .