"So you knew about me before I arrived?"

Carey nodded. "Only the base facts from the court reports and from Crestwood." She set the box down and gave the teen a smile. "I knew you'd be a hard nut for me to crack."

"But you did eventually," Grace said.

Carey shook her head. "Not me. I could have used a sledgehammer and I wouldn't have gotten through. It was you pecking away from the inside that broke the shell."

"I still think it was you," Grace said, pressing her finger to Carey's lips to stop her from disagreeing. "And you'll never convince me otherwise." She pulled her hand back. "Now, are you going to sit out here or use the desk?"

Carey looked at the recliner. "I can do it out here," she said.

"I'm not tuning you out but I’m going to put a CD on, okay?" Grace asked. "I’ll use my headset."

"Fine with me," Carey said. "Don't turn it up so loud it hurts your ears."

"Yes, ma'am," Grace said, smiling and shaking her head. "You can't drop me for ten anymore, you know."

Carey looked at her and slowly gave her a wicked smile. "Don't tempt me."

"I'll keep it to a reasonable level," Grace said, reaching for her soft-sided suitcase.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" Carey asked, watching the teen unzip a CD organizer and flip through the discs.

"Mostly lesbian singers," Grace said, pulling a CD from its sleeve. "I have some older stuff like Bread, Journey, Hall and Oates, that kind of stuff." She touched a button on the front of the laptop, causing the CD tray to zip open. "I have speakers built in if you want to listen to something. I have some of Cris Williamson's vintage CDs."

"Whoever that is," Carey said.

"The goddess of lesbian music, that's who," Grace said, shaking her head. "I'll use the earphones."

Carey chuckled and opened the first folder. The goddess of lesbian music. I'm not even going to ask how she managed to find music like that. There's not exactly a lesbian section in the record store that I've ever seen. Reaching for her coffee, she took advantage of Grace's preoccupation with whatever was on the computer screen to observe her. The blonde hair was longer but there were other changes as well. Six months had made quite a difference in Grace's face. Cheeks once rounded by a hint of baby fat were more angular, accented by the subtlest amount of blush. No wonder the girls are chasing you, she thought, peeking over the rim of the mug. Several moments passed before Carey realized she was staring and turned her attention to the paperwork in front of her. Grace started humming to the music, tapping her fingers against the sides of the laptop. "Grace."

"Oh, sorry," she said, stilling her fingers. Seconds later the humming started again. "So dream on, little teen queen. Angels on horseback will carry your dream..."

"Grace," Carey said again. "Try playing one that doesn't move you to song."

"Sorry," Grace said, pulling the headphones down. "I'll find another one." She flipped through the plastic sleeves, then put a different CD into the tray. "I guess I'm used to being alone in my room."

"At least you can carry a tune," Carey said.

"You can't sing?" Grace asked, her eyes widening.

Carey chuckled. "I can see that pedestal you have me on dropping a few inches," she said. "Hate to disappoint you but singing is not something I do. Yelling I'm good at." She smiled broadly. "Want to hear me yell?"

Grace smiled. "I'm quite familiar with your yell, thank you," she said.

"I still can't hear out of my right ear." She wiggled her ear for emphasis, a light blue stud in the center of the lobe.

"If you had listened in the first place, I wouldn't have had to yell," Carey said. "Get back to your homework."

"You're the one that interrupted me," Grace pointed out.

"You were singing."

"But I sing good."

"Sing well," Carey corrected. "And yes you do, but I can't concentrate on this…" She tapped the folder. "When you're singing."

"I'll be quiet," Grace said, smiling as she pushed the CD tray in. "Sorry you get distracted by me."

"It's all right," Carey said, looking down at the paperwork in front of her, then realizing what the young woman said. I'm not distracted by you, she thought to herself, her eyes flicking to see Grace still smiling as she typed. I have got to watch what I say around you. Reluctantly, she turned her attention back to the work in her lap. Within minutes Grace was humming again. I knew you couldn't last.

"I know the angel, I feel heaven in your wings. You are an an-gel, I can surely hear you sing. Because you ta-ake me so-o light-ly, I know…I know that I can fly..." Grace resumed her humming, apparently oblivious to having burst out in song. Carey shook her head and gave up, accepting the occasional breaks in concentration without comment.

"I hate leaving you," Grace said. "Especially when I won't see you again until next summer." She let her suitcase drop on the floor.

"Won't see me again?" Carey looked at the framed photo of herself next to the bed, taped to the window, and the one tacked to the corkboard. "You have a whole roll of film in there," she said, tapping the suitcase with her foot. "We talk on the phone every week and you know you can always call any other time if you need to." She opened her arms "Come here." Grace moved quickly. "I care about you, Grace. I really do."

"You didn't have to do this," Grace said as Tom stepped back and waved her inside. "It's not really something to celebrate."

"Are you kidding?" he said as they made their way into the kitchen where Stuart was busily slaving over the stove. "Stuart, Miss Thing here doesn't think getting off probation is worth having a party."

Stuart wiped his hands on the apron and reached for his drink. "Any excuse will do," he said. "I'm surprised he didn't throw one for Butterfly Recognition Day."

"When's that?" Tom asked, feigning excitement. "We could hang butterflies from the ceiling and have a guess the species contest."

"I don't know why I put up with him," Stuart said.

"Because I'm so good in bed," Tom said, patting his older lover on the rear as he headed for the refrigerator. "Beer, Grace?"

"I'm under twenty-one," she reminded him.

"So am I," Tom answered, pulling out two bottles of beer. "You driving?"

"You know I don't have a license or a car," she said, taking the offered bottle. "I just don't want to do anything to get Stuart in trouble."

"It's my house," Stuart said. "What I allow to go on here is my business. Speaking of which, no more probation means no more drug tests, right?"

"Right," she said, taking a sip of beer. Just one...maybe two. I won't get drunk. "No more peeing into a cup while someone watches." She shuddered. "God, I hated that."

"I made sure to have something special here for you," Tom said. "Let me go get it." He ran up the stairs, returning a few seconds later with a tall red acrylic waterpipe. "I've been waiting how many months now to share a hit with you?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said, though she was sorely tempted to take him up on the offer. "I'd better not."

"Come on," Tom said. "You told me you used to get stoned. I thought that'd be the first thing you'd want once you were free."

"Yeah, well, I don't think Carey would like it."

"We didn't invite her," Stuart said. "We won't say anything but it's up to you. Tom, don't push her."

"Maybe later," she said, surprised the bottle in her hand was half empty already. "So who else did you invite?"

"Oh, just a few friends," Tom said. "Michelle, Susan, Mary, Jimmy..."

"You didn't invite him, did you?" Stuart asked. "You know I don't care for him."

"He's bringing a date, so he won't bother you," Tom said, setting the bong on the counter. "Grace, it's here if you want some."

"Okay."

"Ready for another?" he asked, pointing at her beer.

"No, I'm good for now," she said.

"I almost ordered a keg," Stuart said. "But I decided bottles would be easier. There's plenty of beer, though; help yourself."

"I'm not planning on having too many," she said. "I promised Carey I wouldn't get drunk at a party."

"You need to get a girlfriend who's not such a prude," Tom said.

“She's not a prude," Grace said. "Well, maybe a little, but do you know how many women are raped at college parties each year?"

"The only guys here are gay," Stuart said. "You're safe."

"Uh-huh." She tipped the bottle again, taking several swallows. "You said you invited Susan. You know she's always coming on to me."

"Does she?" Tom said, turning to Stuart and giving him a sly wink.

"Don't give me that 'does she' bullshit. You know she does."

"Lighten up, Miss Thing. It's not like I set you up on a blind date or anything. There'll be plenty of people around to protect you from her." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Besides, she's nice. Why not have a little fun until Miss Iceberg thaws out enough to give you a chance." He looked over his shoulder at Stuart and added. "If she ever does."

"She will."

"For your sake, I hope she does, sweet cake. But there's no law against having a little fun, is there? I mean it's just a party. No one expects you to go to bed with her, so relax. It'll be a blast." A song came on that Tom liked and he grabbed her hands and started dancing around the kitchen with her. Grace couldn't help but laugh and join in the fun.

"Hey, Grace, wait up."