Joyce Scott: One day, I wake up and reach for my sister, but she is gone. I look for her everywhere. Daddy is gone too. I find Mommy in the kitchen sitting alone. She tells me, "Judy's gone away. Daddy took her to a special school where she'll live now. The teachers there will help her learn to talk."

That night, Daddy returns. I hide in the hall and listen as he tells Mommy how hard it was to leave Judy. I know how sad Judy must've been, because now I feel sad too. And just like that, my whole world disappears and is replaced with the colors of gone. Our room stays the same. Judy's magazines, dolls, plastic zoo animals, and wooden blocks are scattered everywhere. Mommy puts Judy's toys in a box, but I won't let her take them away. Every night, I pile the toys beside me on the bed and feel each one in the dark, thinking about Judy's hands holding them.

Finally, my parents take me to visit my sister. I wear my yellow dress, just like Judy's and hope she'll wear hers too, so everyone will know that we're twins. I pack her a magazine with pictures of bunnies that I know she will love. But when we arrive, I don't understand. This place can't be a school. There's no playground, no desks or books, no chalkboards, crayons or colored paper. Judy and I hugged each other tight. Then she sits right on the floor, pulling me down with her.

She wants to look at the magazine. I find the bunny page for her and she likes it a lot. I knew she would. I clutched Judy close and say. "Hi," in a loud voice. I'm desperate for her to learn to speak. Judy replies, "Ho-ho baa," and pats my face. From that day on, in my mind, even though we are apart, Judy doesn't stay inside that horrible gray place. She stays outside, with me, breathing in the colors of our world.