I bounce out of bed the next morning, bright and early, three books tumbling to the floor with soft thuds, a few others shifting sideways and over the quilt. I smile down at the covers of the Grace Grant books and hug myself.

I'm back.

It's impossible not to whistle in the shower, it's such an amazing day already and it's barely 7:30. I hear Mom and Dad shuffling around downstairs but, by the time I descend in striped sock feet-purple and black today, just love ...