Abby didn’t try to hide this information. In fact, it was usual y the first thing she told people. “My parents are weird,” she’d say, as soon as the topic of family came up. “They’re hippies,” she’d add. A lot of times, the people she was talking to would nod their heads like they understood and say, “I know, my parents are total freaks too.” If this happened, Abby had to explain further. “My parents grow pot,” she’d say. “My mom raises chickens for us to eat.” If this didn’t get a rise out of them, she’d say, “My dad once kidnapped the neighbor’s peacocks.” That usual y shut them up.

Abby wasn’t complaining when she told people this. She just wanted it out there. It was better, she’d learned, to tel people right up front, instead of waiting for them to ask questions like “What line of work is your dad in?” and having it al come out like that.

When Abby was thirteen, her parents sent her to boarding school. They talked about sending her to the local high school, they even entertained the idea of enrol ing her in the hippie high school that took place on a VW bus and drove around the country, to teach kids through real-life experience. But in the end, her parents decided on Chattick, a real y wel -known and snobby boarding school in Connecticut, where al the kids had parents who were lawyers or bankers, and everyone bought their chicken in grocery stores.

At boarding school, Abby learned to study. When she arrived that first year with a canvas bag of clothes and a homemade patchwork quilt for her bed, she knew she had her work cut out for her. She studied hard, taking notes on the silver link bracelets al the girls wore and the bright patterned duffel bags they carried home at the holidays. She made lists and bought these things for herself, quickly and quietly, so that no one remembered that she hadn’t had them before, no one knew that she looked any different than when she’d first gotten there. Sometimes she thought she should have been a spy.

By the time she was a freshman in col ege, she had it down. When she met her freshman roommate, Kristi, she appeared total y normal. But stil , she told Kristi about her family as soon as it was acceptable. Abby had perfected her five-minute rant about her parents, and she performed it wel .

Kristi laughed in al the right places, and Abby was sure that they would be friends.

And stil , Abby tried to keep her friends at a distance. She was quieter than the rest of them, always listening, always watching to see if there was something she was supposed to be doing. It was exhausting, but she knew the alternative was worse. By senior year, she had been to stay with the families of al of her col ege roommates. She’d been to Chicago and Philadelphia and even California, but she’d never invited anyone to Vermont.

She also discouraged her parents from coming up for Parents’ Weekend. “It’s no big deal,” she always said. “No one is real y coming.” This was a lie, of course, and she felt bad about that, but she didn’t have a choice. It was one thing to hear about her family. It was another thing to see them.

Kristi was the one who brought it up one weekend when most of their friends were out of town for one reason or another. “I’m so bored I could die,” Kristi said. She rol ed over onto her back and sighed. “I could literal y die.”

Their friend Isabel a laughed. “Don’t be dramatic or anything.”

“I’m serious,” Kristi said. “We can’t stay here this weekend. There’s nothing going on. Let’s do something.”

“What do you want to do?” Isabel a asked. Abby stayed quiet. They were in her room, which always put her on edge. After freshman year, wherever the group of them lived, Abby always got a single. It calmed her to at least have a place where she could go and shut the door and not have to worry about anyone watching her. She hated when they gathered in here.

“Let’s take a road trip,” Kristi said. She rol ed over and sat up. “I know! Let’s go to Vermont.” She pointed at Abby. “Come on, we’ve never been there. I want to see the farm.” She started bouncing up and down on Abby’s bed. “Come on! Please! Let’s go to the farm!”

“You guys, it’s so boring there,” Abby said. She tried to stay calm. “You think it’s boring here? You’l real y die there.”

But the girls kept insisting and Abby didn’t want to protest too much, in case that would seem weird, and so it wasn’t long before the three of them were in Kristi’s car on the way to Vermont.

Abby knew as soon as they arrived that it would be a disaster. Her mom answered the door with unbrushed hair, wearing thermal pants and a Tshirt. “Welcome, girls,” she said when they walked in. She hugged each of them, and Abby noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “We’re so glad you could make it,” she said. “Leonard is off somewhere, but he’l be back for dinner.” The girls nodded and fol owed Abby upstairs with their bags.

They stared out the windows at the farmland, and Abby wished she’d grown up in a suburb.

Her dad never returned, and so they started dinner without him. “I just don’t know where he could be,” her mom kept saying. They were almost done eating when he got back. “Mary Beth, I need your help,” he said. Then he turned to look at the ful table and said, “Oh, hi, girls. Welcome to Vermont.” Isabel a and Kristi smiled at him and said, “Thanks for having us,” but he wasn’t listening.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Abby asked.

“The neighbors are neglecting their exotic birds,” her dad said. He stood in the doorway and stamped his feet on the welcome mat. “The neighbors are neglecting their exotic birds,” he repeated, and her mother just nodded, as though this was a normal thing to say. “I know,” she said.

“It’s so sad.”

“The neighbors have just let the birds out of the pen. They’re wandering al over the property and we need to get them. Mary Beth, can you help

me find a flashlight and a bag large enough to fit a peacock?”

Abby wanted to die. This was worse than she ever could have imagined. Isabel a and Kristi sat in silence and her mom got up to gather supplies.

“The neighbors have these birds,” Abby started to explain.

“Exotic birds,” her dad said.

“Right,” she said. “Exotic birds. And they aren’t taking care of them.” She turned to her dad. “Are you going to steal them?” she asked.

“No,” her dad said. “We’re just going to convince them to come here. Bob up the street is helping me.”

“Bob’s a vet,” Abby explained to Isabel a and Kristi. She felt like she was interpreting.

“We have to wait until it’s dark,” her dad said. “Peacocks are blind at night, so we can just put it in the bag and get it to the truck. The peahens are easy. They fol ow wherever the peacock goes. Did you know that?”

“Fun farm facts,” Abby said under her breath.

“Be careful,” her mom said. “I don’t want you to get arrested because of the peafowl.” Her dad nodded, took the bag, and he was gone. Abby looked at her friends and tried to think of something to say.