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around for a while.
    Now it was all starting to make sense: the family dinners we’d eaten at different restaurants around the city the last few nights—the haircut certificate Mom had given me “just for being such a great kid!” They’d been feeling guilty. And now they were gone.
    I leaned over and scooped Noodles into my arms. He woke up and started licking my face with his little pink tongue. “But they just got back. Why would they take off again so soon?”
    â€œThere’s a human rights conference in Beijing with Bon Jovi and Bono and some congressmen, and it was all very last-minute and impromptu, and when the pedal hit the metal they just couldn’t say no. Mom told me herself that she wouldn’t leave you for the world—except she had to make an exception because right now, the world needs her!”
    â€œWait, Mom talked to you about this?” Getting information from Feb is like playing telephone with a bunch of fourth-graders after they’ve eaten peanut butter sandwiches: not very reliable.
    â€œWell, they only found out they were going a couple days ago. And you know how they hate long good-byes.”
    I shook my head. “I really wanted them to be here for my freshman year.”
    She and Patch smiled at each other, like they’d been waiting for this.
    â€œThat’s where we come in,” said Patch. “We knew you’d be upset about Mom and Dad being out of town. So we figured we’d give you the next best thing.”
    â€œGrandma and Granddad?” I asked, perking up a little.
    â€œNo, silly!” Feb swatted at me with her martini glass and spilled gin onto my jeans. “Us!”
    â€œWait, what do you mean?”
    â€œFeb and I thought we could be like Mom and Dad,” Patch explained. “Or actually, more like somebody else’s mom and dad. A mom and dad who’re around all the time. Feb’s learning to cook and she’s going to start walking Noodles, and I’m going to get some tools tomorrow to fix the leaky faucet in the bathtub. We’re really going to keep an eye out for you this time, Flan. We’re taking it seriously.”
    Even though I was sad my parents had taken off again, I was used to it by now, and I couldn’t help but grin at the earnest, worried expressions on my siblings’ faces. I saw where this was going, and it was already hilarious. It would be like the year when Patch resolved to stop letting girls fall in love with him—mybrother and sister would keep up this
Leave It to Beaver
act for two days, at most, and then forget about it entirely. But for the time being I decided to humor them.
    â€œOkay.” Noodles wriggled happily on my lap while I scratched the soft, floofy fur behind his ears. “So what’s on the menu tonight? I’m starving.”
    â€œMeatloaf!” Feb triumphantly rose out of her chair and walked to the oven. But when she opened the oven door, a tornado of black soot poured out, and for the second time that day I was completely engulfed by acrid-smelling smoke.
    About two hours later, after one emergency trip to the grocery store and a second emergency trip to the pharmacy for burn balm and Band-Aids, Feb’s meatloaf was finished, and it actually looked pretty amazing. Patch set the table, and I helped carry side dishes over while Feb cut thick slices of the meatloaf. We all sat down and unfolded napkins on our laps. It was just like being in a restaurant or something, except with Noodles prancing around underfoot, waving his paws and begging for table scraps. Sometimes I think he’s not a dog at all, just some kind of ultra-cute anime version of a baby fox.
    â€œSo, Flan, you never told me how your day went,” Feb said, spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate.
    â€œThere’s not much to tell. Nothing too exciting happened. Just classes. I think I bombed a quiz in English.” I took a bite of asparagus.