As soon as Eliza opened the door to her apartment, she knew something was different, maybe even wrong. First of all, the television was on. And on top of that, she could hear her mom's voice in the kitchen.

What was Amanda doing home at this time of day? She always worked till late at night at the TV station. She was never home before eleven o'clock, when Eliza would sometimes sense a faint kiss on her forehead through a deep fog of sleep and smell Amanda's lingering perfume in the dark air afterwards.

Now here she was, in the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon. Eliza stood at the kitchen doorway, her school backpack still slung over her shoulder. Amanda was on the phone, her back to Eliza.

"This is an opportunity I've been waiting years for, Carl," she was saying. "They're finally sending me to cover an international story. The Olympic Games. Can you believe it?"

There was a pause as Uncle Carl responded, saying something that made Amanda laugh excitedly, almost giggle, like a little girl. Eliza thought how rarely she heard her mom laugh like that.

"I've always wanted to go Down Under, and Eliza will love it. She's hardly been out of New York City in her whole life. It's about time she . . . "

Amanda stopped as she realized Eliza was standing there, listening.

Down under? Down under what? Down under where? Did she mean Australia? No, she couldn't mean Australia. Could she? Eliza's thoughts raced in all directions at once. She turned around abruptly from the doorway and flung her backpack on the sofa.

"Listen, Carl," she heard her mom say. "I'll call you back later. Eliza's home. Think about what you'd like me to bring back for you from Australia."

Amanda hung up and followed Eliza into the living room. She picked up the remote and snapped off the TV. "Well, I guess you heard all that."

"Australia?" So it was true. Eliza could hardly get her voice to work. "You're going to Australia? When?"

"We're going, honey. In a couple of days. The guy at the station who was supposed to go has come down with viral meningitis so they've had to pull him out of the news team covering the Games. And guess who was next in line? Amanda Lomax, reporting from Sydney, Australia, for the News at Nine." She pretended to hold a microphone to her lips as though she was already on location.

Eliza saw that her mom could barely contain her excitement. But Eliza hardly listened to what she was saying. We're going was echoing in her head.

"What do you mean we're going?" she said. "And in a couple of days? Are you crazy? I just started back at school, and they're choosing the basketball team next week. You know how much I want to make that team. I've been training all summer."
"You can make the team when you get back. We'll only be gone for a month or so."

"A month!" Eliza felt the blood rise in her face. "A month is forever. What about my school work?"

"I spoke to the principal this morning, and she said--"

"So you've already gone behind my back without even talking to me about it, or asking me how I feel."

"Eliza, you're fourteen years old. I can hardly leave you here by yourself."

"I can stay with Uncle Carl."

"He's going on a field trip to California soon. Look, I'm not going to argue about this. You're coming with me, and that's the end of it."

Eliza knew by her mom's tone that it was no use. She wasn't going to win this battle. Well, if she wasn't going to win, she sure wasn't going to give her mom the satisfaction of winning. She felt a big sob in her throat and thought she might explode with frustration.

"Well, you'll wish you'd left me behind when we get there because don't expect me to enjoy myself. It's my life and I wish you'd stop trying to control it." The sob escaped and she heard herself whimpering like a little kid.

"Okay," Amanda said. "Go ahead and behave like a three year old. I thought you'd be excited. I thought--"

"You thought. When did you ever really think about me or what I want? You and your big job and your big career. I've always just been in the way."

"Eliza, that's not true and you know it. I've had to work hard to take care of us, because no one else will."

Eliza stormed off to her room and flung herself on the bed. She let out all the sobs until she felt empty and still. And hungry. She heard the ping of the microwave and a delicious smell wafted into her room. Amanda was probably trying to bribe her. Eliza realized she wasn't really furious anymore. Just confused and scared. Australia. It was the last place she thought she'd ever go. She knew the Olympics were going to be held in Sydney--there'd been a lot about it on TV. She tried to remember what Sydney had looked like. Sunny, white sandy beaches, a big harbor. It did look kind of nice. Like San Francisco, but she hadn't been there either. Maybe it would be kind of cool to go to Sydney, one day, but not now.

She thought of the basketball team she had been practicing for all summer. Lucy Pensky would probably get chosen instead. She was faster than Lucy, but Lucy had grown about two inches over the summer and Eliza hadn't grown at all since she was twelve. She did lots of stretching exercises to see if that helped, even though Uncle Carl told her it was all in the genes and she just didn't have tall genes. Brown hair, brown eyes, and short. Just like Amanda. She may as well accept it. She'd never be good at anything. Her misery swelled up again and she felt like a total failure.

She became aware of a familiar sandpapery feeling on her leg. Mr. Lewie, her cat, was silently licking her. She leaned down and scooped him up, cuddling him against her chest.

"Poor Mr. Lewie," she murmured into the old cat's ear. Mr. Lewie purred like an engine against her and tried to lick her salty cheek.

Mr. Lewie used to belong to old Mr. Lewellyn, who had lived in the apartment next door ten years ago. Mr. Lewellyn had just called him Cat. He'd let Eliza feed him and play with him. Then Mr. Lewellyn died and his cat just sort of hung around Eliza and then moved into her apartment. First they called him Mr. Lewie's cat. Then just plain old Mr. Lewie.

Amanda hadn't liked her playing with Mr. Lewellyn's cat in his apartment. She said Mr. Lewellyn wasn't right in the head, the way he hung out of his apartment window, waving that handkerchief for hours at nothing and no one in particular. But Eliza's dad had said he was harmless enough, that old Mr. Lewellyn was just lonely since his wife died and waving that handkerchief wasn't hurting anybody.

Eliza tickled Mr. Lewie under the chin. He almost made her smile. Then she heard a knock on her door. Amanda's face peeped in.

"Can we declare peace?" she said.
Eliza didn't answer.

Amanda came in, carrying a tray with some hot home-baked cookies on a plate and a glass of milk.

"What about Mr. Lewie?" Eliza said. "Who'll take care of him?"
"Mrs. Waterman will, I'm sure. She's always making a fuss of him. She won't mind stopping by and feeding him each day."

The smell of the cookies teased Eliza's nostrils, but she resisted the urge to take one.

Amanda's gaze lingered on Mr. Lewie. She sighed and sat down on the bed. "I guess you're right about me being selfish," she said. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me and it's true I was thinking of myself first. It's just that after your dad died . . . Well, you won't remember because you were just a little girl, and I've never told you because I wanted to forget those days. After you started school I was at home with nothing to do and I was so lonely and sad. I'd always loved writing so I did some articles for the local newspaper and I was good at it. Really good at it, Eliza. I needed to get out of the house. I couldn't bear to be alone all day. I know my work has taken up a lot of my time and meant I haven't always been the best mother. . . ."

Eliza listened with all sorts of feelings churning in her. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling directly above her, where a patch of paint was peeling off. Sometimes the shape looked like a butterfly and other times like a gorilla's face. She didn't want to hear all these things her mom was saying. All her pain and problems. She wished they were like a TV family who made jokes all the time and got into hilarious situations that always worked out happily in the end. She knew real life didn't work that way and she thought TV people were stupid to suggest that it did. She tried to think what a TV kid would do if they suddenly found out they had to go to Australia. Probably say something funny that set off lots of canned laughter. She couldn't think of anything funny as she looked at the peeling paint, which today looked like a gorilla's face.

"Please can I stay here," Eliza begged. "I can take care of myself. Anyhow, you'll be working all the time in Sydney."

"Not all the time," Amanda replied. "There'll be days off. It's a beautiful city. We can explore it, just the two of us. Finally get to spend some time together."

"I just want to be by myself now," Eliza said and turned on her side, away from her mom.

Amanda sighed again, then got up and left.

It was true. Eliza didn't see that much of her mom in New York. She worked late and was asleep when Eliza left for school in the morning. Sometimes they had dinner together on weekends, but if a big news story broke, Amanda was beeped and Uncle Carl would come over. He was a better cook than her mom anyway. His specialty was cannelloni stuffed with spinach and ricotta cheese. Sometimes he even made the cannelloni himself, rolling out the dough flat on the kitchen counter and getting flour everywhere, even in his eyebrows. Then making perfect sheets of pasta with a special cutting wheel. He'd pretend he was an Italian chef called Signor Carlo and their kitchen was a restaurant called Casa Eliza that was full of other customers. And sometimes he would get into pretend arguments with the pretend customers and throw them out. And he would say "Buon Appetito" as he set down the steaming dish before her with a flourish like a waiter in a fancy restaurant.
Eliza thought of running away, going to California with Uncle Carl. But she knew he wouldn't let her. Or taking a train to North Carolina to stay with Aunt Betty and Uncle Jim and her cousins. But they'd send her back. She just wanted to stay home anyway, to go to school and get chosen for the team and live an ordinary life. If only she were older and could do what she wanted. It wasn't fair.

Then she heard little lapping sounds. Mr. Lewie was helping himself to the glass of milk on the bedside table.

"Oh, Mr. Lewie," she said, stroking his tail. Then she took a cookie and gobbled it down.