It rained all morning, as it had done the entire night and yesterday too. Ada looked out the window and saw the dark grey clouds form an impenetrable wall, at its heart a deep purple almost electric. The cloud formations seemed to broadcast a simple message: Sally’s birthday party will be a disaster. An awesome fluorescent line of light tore the sky, followed by an enormous thunder clap. It felt like an exclamation mark emphasizing her failure as a mother to provide her ten year old daughter with what she needed; an opportunity to make new friends at a new school in an unfamiliar town miles away from her old life, only because her mother felt the need to move in with her boyfriend. Ada felt torn between guilt en exhilaration. She loved her new life with Mark, his house, the view from the kitchen window, his quaint collection of taxidermied birds, the way his hair smelled in the morning. She could go on for much longer, but she could not deny the fact that Sally absolutely hated everything about Mark and their new life. It was as if the move had catapulted her into an early onset of puberty. No matter what Ada said or did, all her efforts were greeted with Sally’s brooding eyes under her dark brow and a snarling curl of her upper lip. What had happened to the sweet happy child that skipped all the way to school and held funeral services for dead ladybugs? Had she departed for good, or would she resurface on the other side of that dark tunnel of adolescence?