ooked　out　the

window　at　the　Bakers'　house。　“And　now　she　won't　talk

to　me！”

Very　quietly　my　grandfather　said；　“Maybe　she　thinks　this　is　all　a　little　sudden？”

“But　it's　not！”

“It's　not？”

“No；　I　mean　…”　I　turned　to　him。　“It　started　with　that　stupid　newspaper　article。　And　I　don't

know…　I've　been　weirded　out　ever　since。　She　doesn't

look　the　same；　she　doesn't　sound　the　same；　she　doesn't　even　seem　like　the　same　person　to

me！”　I　stared　out　the　window　at　the　Bakers'。　“She's…

she's　just　different。”

My　grandfather　stood　beside　me　and　looked　across　the　street；　too。　“No；　Bryce；”　he　said　softly。

“She's　the　same　as　she's　always　been；　you're　the

one　who's　changed。”　He　clapped　his　hand　on　my　shoulder　and　whispered；　“And；　son；　from

here　on　out；　you'll　never　be　the　same　again。”

Maybe　my　grandfather's　happy　about　all　this；　but　I'm　miserable。　I　can't　eat；　I　can't　watch　TV；　I

can't　seem　to　do　anything。

So　I　went　to　bed　early；　but　I　can't　sleep。　I've　w