Free We Are All Made of Molecules by Susin Nielsen

looked around for Alistair, spotting him near the back by the EMPLOYEES ONLY sign. He was digging around in a large cardboard box.
    “I may have found a solution to your problem,” he said. Then he pulled something out of the box and held it up for my inspection. “Not foolproof. But it would offer a certain amount of protection.”
    I smiled. “Alistair, you still get my vote for Problem Solver of the Year. It’s perfect!”
    —
    WHEN WE GOT HOME , the weekend kind of went downhill. First of all, the painting had disappeared from the living room, before my dad had even talked to me about it. Second, our Eiffel Tower had been destroyed. Ashley tried to blame it on Schrödinger, but I knew better. I could tell from the trajectory of the broken spaghetti strands that a large, solid object had been dropped on it from above, something like my math book, which wasn’t where I’d left it. Third, Ashley and Lauren blasted music all night while Alistair and I tried to play Stratego. I have nothing against loud music, but Ashley and Lauren sang along to every song, and I can say with some authority that they are both tone-deaf.
    Fourth, Alistair whipped my butt in Stratego.
    Now it’s Sunday. Dad tried to talk to me about the painting, after Lauren had left and Alistair had been picked up. He found me snuggling with Schrödinger in my room.
    “I’m sorry, buddy. But I had to respect Caroline’s wishes.”
    “What about
my
wishes?”
    Dad sighed. “Well, technically speaking, it
is
her house—”
    “So we should just feel like guests in it?”
    “No, but we have to be able to compromise.”
    “We
have
compromised.
We
moved.
We
only brought a few things with us. And now one of them is gone.”
    “Not gone. It’s in the basement. If you want, we can hang it in your room instead.”
    So we carried the painting up to my room. Caroline helped. She was apologetic about not wanting it in the living room, but she also stuck to her guns.
    Dad held the painting up against one of my walls. While I looked at it from the other side of the room, the cold, hard truth hit me. I didn’t want it hanging in here, either. It is a very large painting. And while I will love my mom for eternity, I don’t want to gaze at a baby-me drinking from her bare boobs every time I wake up and every time I do homework and every time I lie down. That’s why the living room had seemed so perfect; it was supposed to be something that everyone could enjoy, but on a limited basis.
    So we carried the painting back down to the basement. Dad and I agreed that next time we visit the storage locker, we’ll bring the painting with us. Caroline suggested we take something else
out
of the storage locker and bring it home, and I was grateful to her for that.
    Still. I know that this will sound possibly overly emotional, but every time we get rid of something else that Mom loved, I feel like we’re letting a little bit more of her memory die. I feel like we’re betraying her, Dad especially.
    I want my dad to be able to move on with his life. I want him to be happy with Caroline. But I don’t want him to ever forget or stop loving my mom.

OH. MY . GOD!!!!
    Can my life just be normal for twenty-four hours without one of my family members ruining everything?? Is that too much to ask??
    Lauren and I had a great sleepover. We played music really loud and sang along. We also experimented with makeup. When we were done, we voted on whose makeup job looked best and I won. Then we went on Facebook, and Lauren showed me Jared’s home page, because she is “friends” with him. “Did he friend you?” I asked.
    “No. I friended him,” she replied, which made me feel better.
    So I friended him, too, and guess what? He accepted myfriend request after ten seconds! And
then
guess what?? He said
hi
in chat! Lauren and I practically fell off my bed.
    After a lot of discussion about what I should say back, I wound up typing
Hey
. But I guess I waited too long, because