Time stood still. The shadows writhed across the walls.

"I want you to come with me," said Grace. Short-haired, Converse-shoed, lime-green-sweatered Grace. "Please, Jack. I have someone you need to meet."

The boy wasn't sure how to respond. He was still taking in the fact that Grace was like him. Like him! How unreal! He'd never believed anyone else in the universe was like him. Never thought it was possible.

"Come on. Put on some normal clothes and let's go. I bet you've been wearing those pajamas for, like, the whole week. That's kind of gross. Get some jeans or something and you'll need a jacket, because it's cold outside. Can you believe that this stupid snow won't go away? I wish it would, because it's all at the point where it's just dirty slush and kind of crusty on top. Not fun, pretty snow anymore. But I guess you don't remember that snow, do you? It was like that for New Year's."

That was the Grace he was used to. He wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying, though. "You want me to meet someone?"

Grace paused in her prattling, shook her head as if being reawakened all of a sudden. "Oh, yeah. That's why I want you to get up."

Jack swallowed hard, stared at the walls, the dark splotches of shadow that had stopped moving, strangely, as if awaiting his answer. "I don't think my mom will let me out."

Snorting, Grace stood up from her chair. Her eyes rolled. "Get real. Your mom will be so happy you're out of bed she won't care if you fly to the moon. Now hurry up. I'll be downstairs, waiting. I'm giving you three and a quarter minutes. Don't get on my nerves, ok?"

And she left the room.

By himself again, Jack felt the space begin to refill with the gloom that had scattered when Grace arrived. He knew he didn't have any choice but to go with Grace. There was no hope if he stayed at home. He had no idea who she wanted him to meet or if it was important at all. He'd never particularly been friends with Grace, but now, the knowledge that she understood him made him feel immensely close to her. As if he couldn't let her go of for fear she'd never come back. Cling to her—that was what he had to do. So, getting out of his bed, Jack waded through the shadows and went to his dresser, where he proceeded to search his drawers for some warm clothes.

Within ten minutes (much to Grace's apparent annoyance), Jack was downstairs and ready to go. His mother practically had tears in her eyes to see him up and looking normal, but she tried to hide her happiness for fear it would send her son back to his bedroom. The woman behaved as if nothing was different and saw the two eighth graders out of the house with a wave and a comment that Jack should be home before six.

The snow wasn't very pretty anymore; Grace had been right. It was slushy and dirty from the cars that had driven and people that had tramped through it. Half-melted snowmen forlornly stood at attention in various yards along the streets, and patches of dead grass peeked out from places where the snow had worn too thin. Winter didn't look sparkly and pure; it looked sad and lonely. Jack realized, with a sudden sinking heart, that he'd missed the beauty of the season because he'd been too out of it to take notice. A year's winter had passed and never even had a chance to exist in his memory.

"Where are we going?" asked Jack, interrupting Grace's chatter about the things she'd gotten for Christmas over a month ago.

The girl hardly took note of his interruption; he guessed she was used to being cut off. "You'll see. She's a friend of mine. I met her a few years ago when I was taking piano lessons. You'll like her. I promise."

"How far?"

"Who cares? I mean, do you really care? Isn't it nice to just get out and breathe fresh air? Come on. You need some exercise anyway."

"Grace . . ."

She sighed. "Oh fine. It's about a twenty-minute walk. But it's worth it! I'll tell you all about what's been happening at school on the way there. I promise you won't get bored. And if you start to freeze to death, I'll go knock on a door and get you some hot chocolate or something. You'll be nice and toasty if we walk faster."

So they began to walk faster, and Grace kept Jack's mind off of any bad things he might have begun thinking about without her voice filling his head. He noticed that the clouds moved above in strange formations, as if unidentifiable animals were romping about up there. The sky was crossed with a whole blanket of the shifting clouds. They weren't moving any time soon. Would be there for quite a while. Looked like they already had been there for ages. Jack wondered for some moments whether they'd been there before he was on his medication or not. For some reason, it seemed as if they had.

The house that Grace at last stopped at was small and cottage-like. It was a little brick building with a sloping, multi-colored tiled roof and stained glass windows in the front door. There were hedges in front of the house, too, but they were covered in snow. No snowmen adorned the yard, Jack noticed, but he did see that several snow angels had been attempted; they danced across the snow in a row, about six of them altogether, and were very well-done. No footprints were around them.

"Anne taught me to make really great snow angels," Grace commented, seeing the objects of Jack's attention. She'd stopped walking and was staring in curiosity at the boy.

Jack shook his head and turned to Grace. "Oh . . . I was just . . . they're very . . . perfect."

The girl smiled. "Yes, well Anne is good at things like that. She just knows how to make everything so . . . so precise. With nothing wrong with it, you know?"

"You mean, perfect?"

"No . . . not exactly. I mean precise, which is totally different from perfect. Anne just understands how things work." Grace latched onto Jack, wrapping her hands warmly around his arm. "Come on. She's waiting for us."

Still wondering about the snow angels, Jack allowed himself to be led up the cleared path and to the rounded front door, where the candy-colored stained-glass pieces twinkled down at him.

"You're going to love her," whispered Grace, ringing the bell.

Before Jack had the chance to ask Grace why she was whispering, a silhouette appeared in the window—one made unclear from the glass's uneven surface. As this happened, the boy felt an instant warmth flow through him, as if an electric switch had been turned on inside his body and was letting hot chocolate run through his veins. Wherever this fast feeling had come from, he found himself cherishing it immediately, for it filled him not only with warmth but also with a strong sense of hope. That everything would be all right, no matter what he'd thought or been afraid of up until this point. Whatever was behind that door, it was a good thing, and it was going to help him. Infinitely. Unstintingly. Without reservation, and for as long as he needed it. Warm, pure hope washed across the boy, and when the door opened and he looked upon the face of the woman there, he knew he had most definitely been destined to end up here.

"Jack," said the woman, a ring of light glowing around her like a halo. "I've missed you."

He fell into her arms, embracing the only teacher that'd ever treated him kindly. "Me too, Miss Collins. I've missed you, too."