"Thirty years," Artemis repeated, as if she were trying to commit the fact to memory, like the lyrics of a song. "Thirty years. Thirty years."

"Yes, you silly thing, thirty years," Papa said.

She ignored him.

Artemis whetted her lips, turning to look up at the sky above them. The sunlight streaming down on them, making them glow like chalk on the blacktop. It probably should have fazed her more. But thirty years...

"It seems I've missed quite a lot," she muttered.