It all started a month ago, the day Ms. Colby, my sixth-grade teacher, gave me the news that I got the part of Melanie, the female lead in the class play. I couldn't wait to get home and call my mom at her office to tell her the good news.

I bounced off the bus and zoomed into the house, where, to my amazement, both Mom and Dad were sitting at the dining-room table with piles of papers spread before them. They didn't even notice me standing there for a long time.

"Well," I said, hugging my books to my chest. I didn't know what was going on, but I had a funny feeling I wouldn't like it when I found out. I was right.

"Oh, hello, Talia," said Mom, looking up at me with a small, not entirely happy smile.

"What's up, guys? How come you're both here? Do we have anything to eat?" I pushed aside some of the papers, stuck my books on the edge of the table, and looked from one to the other, waiting for my explanations.

Dad picked up a glossy picture from the table and held it out to me. I took it and saw that it was an ad showing a big curved basket with fruits and veggies in bright colors pouring out of its wide top. "Adam's Bounty" was written in curved fancy letters above the basket.

I handed the page back to him. "So? It's an ad for something called Adam's Bounty. What does that have to do with why you're here and looking so serious?"

Dad sighed. "Talia," he said, "Think of it this way. You, Mom and me, we're setting out on a great adventure, something Mom and I have talked about for years."

"Think of what what way? What adventure? What have you and Mom talked about for years? What does Adam's Bounty have to do with it? And who is Adam anyway?"

Mom joined in. Whenever Mom gets nervous, she talks a lot and fast: "The adventure is owning our own little business, a wonderful gourmet foods boutique We don't know anyone named Adam, but we thought that Adam's Bounty would be a good name for a fancy but natural food store because since Adam was the first person on earth, he definitely ate natural and wholesome foods."

"So what does all this mean?" I asked.

"It means we have to change our lifestyle, Tal. We have to move." Dad looked at me very seriously. He must have known how I was going to take this.

And that was it. The end. The end of everything I'd hoped and worked for in the best possible place in the world for me to live--Bethesda, Maryland. I didn't care that it was only a half hour drive from Washington to Bethesda. If I had to live there, it would be like I was on the moon. "Move without me," I said. "Why do we have to move?"

Dad's eyes were like thousand-watt lightbulbs as he stared at a spot on the wall behind me. I didn't know what he was seeing there, but I was sure it wasn't me. "Because we need the money that we'll get from the sale of this house to put into the shop. It's going to make us all very rich and very happy, some day. Meanwhile, we'll have a great apartment in town. Then, after a while, we'll move to our own house in D.C., better than this."

"There is no place better than this. I don't want to move to Washington. You mean it's all arranged? You did this all without telling me? How could you?" I turned to Mom. She's a lawyer and is always telling me that she'll listen to anything reasonable. "But why?" I asked. "Why now when I got the part of Melanie in Far from Home? The part that every girl in the sixth grade would kill for. Ma, please." I didn't even mention that Dana Firlake would get it the minute I left and that would really kill me. And then another lightning bolt tore through my heart.

Charles, the boy of my dreams, the one who liked me as much as I liked him-I knew because of the notes he constantly passed me in class and the E-mails we had sent each other and the bubble gum packs he gave me every Friday when we walked home from school together-Charles would instantly forget me. He would be Dana's boyfriend. I couldn't even speak about Charles to my parents. I wouldn't be able to E-mail him either, since my computer was broken.

Mom nodded. "Talia, you can surely find acting opportunities in D. C. Maybe even in the school you're going to."

"School," I yelled. "What kind of school can I go to in Washington? They don't have schools there. All they have are big, boring buildings. I hate Washington."

After that, I raged and pleaded, but it did no good.

On the morning of MMD, or Miserable Moving Day, I began to feel strange, but Mom and Dad were so busy getting everything ready for the moving men, they had no time to listen to my complaints. They even kind of avoided me, not catching my eye as they walked around the house with boxes of stuff.

I sat in my favorite chair in the living room and considered not getting up when it was time to go, having a one-kid sit-down strike. So what could they do to me if I did that? Drag me out of the chair? Pick up the chair with me in it? They could have the moving men lift me in the chair and carry us outside to their truck. I kind of liked that idea. I'd look like a queen as they carried me out. I'd wave at all the gawking neighbors, saying, "I shall return," in a true queenly way.

What happened to squash that idea was the moving men themselves, who were like no other moving men I had ever seen, at least not on TV. They were called The Moving Men, which was the name painted on the outside of their rusty old van. When it pulled up in front of our house in Bethesda, I couldn't believe it. I was glad Dana didn't live on this block. This was embarrassment big time.

There were two of them. One was tall, skinny, and couldn't seem to keep still. That was Clyde. The other one was short and very fat. His name was Jordan. He didn't talk much. He couldn't because he didn't seem to be able to catch his breath.

When they entered the house, I saw Mom and Dad look at each other with the same doubt that I had about whether these two could carry our heavy furniture out to their van, not to mention carry the chair with me in it. I didn't want to end up on the sidewalk, in a broken chair, with maybe a broken body part as well. So I got up and stood there, waiting for instructions from Mom.

What happened then was that I was stuffed into the back seat of the moving van with Mom, two big suitcases, and two overstuffed plastic bags that sat on our feet. Clyde sat in the front passenger seat, next to Jordan, who drove. Dad drove our car which was stuffed with things the Moving Men couldn't fit in their too-small van.

Whoever said that getting someplace is half the fun was wrong. They never met Clyde and Jordan. To be fair, though, it was partly Mom's fault. She started out by telling the men that they should give me a little tour of D.C. to get me into the spirit of living in this great city, which I didn't appreciate yet, the seat of our government and some of the world's greatest museums and so forth.

Clyde clapped his hands at that and practically jumped out of his seat, causing Jordan to start wheezing and make the van lurch in a sickening way. "Little lady, you have come to the right place. I was born here and I know every inch of this city. Jordie," he commanded. "To the Mall."

Now, to be honest, I wasn't in a hurry to get to my new home, but at the same time, I didn't want to be stuck in this van with these two weird guys while we drove bumpily along the highways of Washington, D.C.

"Mom," I said, as she started to gush to Clyde about our new neighborhood. But on she went. "Mom," I said more loudly, then coughed.

She turned to me with a look of surprise. "What's wrong, Talia?" she asked, then turned back to listen to Clyde, instead of to me.

"So, Talia, do you know the best way to see this city? No? I'll tell you. By air. Now, what do you think of that?" Then, he turned and grinned at me. I didn't say a word. Instead, I politely put my hand to my mouth to stifle a yawn.

"Oh," he said, "Are we keeping you awake?"

"No . . . yes," I really didn't think it would matter what I said to him. He was like a machine; he would just keep going.

I was right.

"So, if you're flying to Washington National airport-- and I, as a member of the Air National Guard, do that every week-- you'll see the Potomac River down below the whole way. There's a view of the White House. Now, who lives in the White House?" He actually waited for me to answer. I shook my head. "That's right, the president. So, as I was saying, then you see the Washington Monument, a real nice monument, and the Jefferson Memorial. So what was his first name, Miss?"

"Oh, puhleeze," I said. "Thomas."

"Good. Then, you see the dome on the Capitol, looks kind of like a wedding cake. And the most beautiful of all, the Lincoln Memorial."

"Great," I muttered. My stomach did a flip-flop as Jordan turned the van sharply. "Mom, I don't feel good," I said.

"What's wrong, Tal?" This time, she really looked worried.

"It's my stomach. I feel as if I have to throw up." Mom tried to reach the window, but she couldn't because of all the bags in the way.

"Jordan," said Clyde. "Stop here."

"Oh, no," I screamed as Jordan veered over to the curb. Clyde jumped out onto the grass of the curb and pulled the van door open. He helped me get out, then Mom. After I walked around for a while, I felt better.

We rode silently for a while and I put my head against Mom's side, trying not to mind the bumping of the van. Then, Clyde started his guided tour again. "So, what does the U.S. Capitol mark? That's right, the exact center of Washington, D.C. Bet you didn't know that." If he thought I didn't know that, why did he say that's right to the question I didn't answer? I didn't have the energy to ask. "Yes, and the city is divided into quadrants. A quadrant is a quarter of a circle or of its circumference. So there's Northwest, Northeast, Southwest, and Southeast."

"Our new home is in Northwest," Mom put in. I burrowed closer into her side. Suddenly I was freezing. There was a crinkling sound near my face. I opened one eye to see a map dangling from Clyde's hand.

"This one's for you, Talia. My gift. When you go out exploring, you'll really appreciate having one of these."

"Say thank you, Talia," said Mom.

"Thank you," I said.

"You are eminently welcome, young lady."

I pushed the map away from me towards Mom. She folded it and put it in her bag. I wasn't going to need a map because I wasn't going to go anywhere in this place. I was just going to sit around and wait until I moved back to Bethesda and my real home.

After that, Clyde kept going on about how you got from one place to another in D.C., which is what a lot of people call Washington, D.C., for short. While I was awake, I heard most of it, muffled though I was in Mom's coat. I heard about how you could go paddleboating in the Potomac River Tidal Basin and you'd go by all the memorials. That sounded fun, but I could have done that from home, with Dana and Charles. Just thinking about them made me want to cry again.

I fell asleep. The next thing I felt was Mom shaking my shoulder. "We're here Talia--our new home."

"I don't feel well," I said. "I can't move." Mom felt my forehead.

"You're burning up," she said. "The good news is that your bed is already in place in your new room. The bad news is that you have to go up two flights of stairs to get there."

"Don't worry, missus, Jordie and me will carry her up."

"Aagh," I said weakly.

Clyde, Jordan, and Mom carted me upstairs and dumped me on my bed like a sack of old potatoes. And that's where I lay, sunk in a deep, deep sleep for a long, long time.

What woke me up was a sound so loud it made the bed shake. It was like a lawn mower, but much louder. I still kept my eyes closed. I couldn't open them. I didn't remember where I was for a long time. When I did remember, my eyes snapped open.

What would a lawn mower be doing outside a second-story window? What would a lawn mower be mowing in the middle of January? Was this some horrible thing we didn't know about in this horrible place?

I forced myself to sit up in the bed and looked out the window. "Wow," I gasped, when I saw what I thought I saw. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again. Then, I forced my body closer to the window, which was at the foot of the bed, and pushed my hot face against the cool glass. My eyes were not deceiving me.

Yes, it was a car, a small, green sporty type. It was right there, beside my window, so close I could have touched it if the window had been open. The driver was an old woman wearing a brown Sherlock Holmes cap on her spiky gray hair. She looked like the old lady who owned this house, whom I'd met once.

"Get a grip, Talia," I told myself. I eased myself back down under my quilt and closed my eyes.

I was just on the point of sleep again when the door creaked open and Mom's cheery voice said, "Feel any better?" I opened my eyes to see her holding a white washcloth and coming towards me. She put it on my forehead.

"Ow," I said.

"Feel any better?" she asked, tucking my quilt tightly around me.

"No," I said. "I muz've fallen azleep." I wasn't about to tell her anything about the car. She wouldn't believe me anyway.

"Talia, Dad's home. He's downstairs now with our landlady, Ms. O'Toole. He brought you a gallon of Adam's Apple Juice.

"Tha's nize," I said.

"How about the apple juice?" Mom asked again. Actually, even if I were well, I wouldn't have cared what Dad had brought home from that awful store. "I've put some in this pitcher and there's a plastic cup here, too. I guarantee you'll feel much better after you've had some." Well, that's Mom. She thinks anything can be solved by food or drink. "Talia!"

"No, Mom, it's too sour," I said, mustering as much dignity as I could under the circumstances.

"Oh, I can't deal with you anymore. Dad's coming up with Ms. O'Toole now. Please be polite."

"Ma, please, you know I'm always polite." She went to open the door to admit Dad and Minerva O'Toole, who stood there with a big smile on her horsey face. I stared at her. I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

What I had seen outside my window hadn't been a hallucination. Because Minerva was wearing the same hat, that funny brown Sherlock Holmes hat.

"Don't worry," she said to me, ignoring my stare, "You'll do fine. You just have to get your leaves smoothed out." Leaves?

Even Dad looked confused. "When Minerva heard you were sick, she insisted on coming up to bring you her own homemade chicken soup," he said.

"Now, now," Minerva said, in a voice that went high and low, making her sound like a horse too. "Chicken soup has been scientifically proven to alleviate the symptoms of a cold."

"Wow," I said. I wished she'd get out of here. I couldn't take much more of this. I yawned and my eyes started to close by themselves.

Minerva read my mind or saw my drooping eyelids, whichever came first. "This young lady needs her rest," she said. "Best medicine in the world."

"You're being absolutely wonderful, Ms. O'Toole," said Dad. "My wife and I are quite worried about Talia." Sure. Well, at least she had called me a young lady, not a young rubber plant or something.

Just as I was thinking this, she said, "She has extraordinary eyes, reminds me of one of my favorite cacti, just that shade of green." After they left, I tried to think about what to do, but I was too tired. I had to believe that everything would be explained, that we wouldn't stay here long, or somehow my parents would realize the terrible mistake they had made.

As it turned out, I was the one who was mistaken. Because as scary and confusing as things were now, they were going to get worse.

Much worse.