Free Welcome Back, Stacey! by Ann M. Martin

room and slammed the door.
The next day was Saturday. Dad went to a real estate office to sign some papers, and then to a gigantic hardware store that carries everything from nuts and bolts to refrigerator magnets. He said he needed some things for his new pad.
His new pad. He actually said that.
I stayed at home with Mom, feeling horribly guilty about those words that had slipped out of my mouth the night before: "I've never lived on the East Side." I sat in the kitchen with her again while she looked at the paper. I was trying to write an English composition (the teacher had said to write about what you know, so I was writing about parents who can't keep their marriage vows), but concentrating was difficult with Mom on the phone every two seconds.
It was especially difficult when I heard her say, "Hello, Ms. Keller?" Right away, my ears perked up.
"This is Mrs. McGill," Mom went on. "Yes. . . . Right. . . . Well, I know it's been a week, and I'm calling to say that I just can't make up my mind about the house. It is a lovely old place, but it will probably be expensive to keep up, and . . . Well, I know. ... I know. So I wanted to tell you that I guess you better start showing the house again. If I decide I want it, I'll call to find out if it's still available, and if it isn't, I'll understand. . . . Okay. . . . Yes. ... All right. Thank you. Good-bye." "What did Ms. Keller say?" I asked.
"That the house'll probably be snapped up in a second." "Oh." My mother returned to the paper.
"Mom?" "Yes, honey?" "How come you can't make up your mind about the house in Stoneybrook?" "I guess because it's too big for one person. If I knew what you wanted to do - I mean, where you wanted to live - " "So get a smaller house," I said. "One with just two bedrooms. The old house has four." "I didn't see any nice smaller houses." "Oh, yeah." I remembered the refrigerator and the reindeer.
"I think I'll look on Long Island," said Mom, rattling the paper as she turned pages.
Long Island? When I visited her there, I wouldn't know anybody. She had to move to Stoneybrook, I thought.
I flipped to the back of my composition book and tore out a fresh page. Then I made a list of pros and cons. One list was for staying in New York. The other list was for leaving New York and going back to Connecticut. Here is what my page looked like: I took a look at my list. I didn't have to look at it very long to see the decision I was going to make.
"Mom?" I said. "Can you call Ms. Keller back right now?" "Sure. But why?" "Just to make sure no one snapped up the house in the last fifteen minutes." Mom gave me a questioning look but dialed the phone anyway. She spoke briefly to Ms. Keller, then cupped her hand over the phone and raised her eyebrows at me.
I took a deep breath. "Ask her if you and I can move into it." Mom's eyes filled with tears, and in a wavery voice, she told Ms. Keller that she'd take the house after all. Then they began talking business, and I tuned out. All I could think of was what I would tell my father when he came home.
Dad returned late that afternoon. He'd been putting shelf paper in the kitchen cabinets of his new pad.
"Dad," I said, "I have to talk to you. In private. Can we go to my room?" "Of course, honey." Dad followed me to my room and sat next to me on the bed. How, I wondered, could I possibly say what I had to say? My father and I love each other, and now I was going to hurt him. He had stayed with me during hospital visits. He had helped me learn to give myself insulin injections. He had bought me dolls and dresses and taken me to my first Broadway play - Annie.
"Dad," I began, already knowing I was going to cry, "I made a decision today. I'm going to Stoneybrook with Mom. She took the house we found last week." My father just nodded. I don't know whether he'd expected the news or not.
"You said it was up to me," I whispered.
Dad nodded again. His Adam's apple was moving up and down.
"I knew it. I knew I'd hurt you," I