Storiesonline.net
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                                   Bec
                                by BarBar

Copyright© 2007 by BarBar


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Description: Bec is a young teen with a slightly weird outlook on life. Join her as she struggles to cope with the problems life throws at her. 
There are some sexual activities described in later chapters, but sex is not the major theme of the story.

Codes: slow humor teen
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Bec is a young teen with a slightly weird outlook on life. Join her as she struggles to cope with the problems life throws at her.

There are some sexual activities described in later chapters, but sex is not the major theme of this story.

This story is copyright 2007 by BarBar. It is freely available for anyone to read. Please respect the rights of the author and gain permission before publishing this in any other form or on any other internet site.

With thanks to co2 for earlier editing advice and Erik Thread for more recent editing.

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Chapter 1 : When is a door not a door?



My parents have this thing about giving us "lessons." Oh sure, if we do something wrong they do the usual things like grounding us or making us do meaningless chores, stuff like that. Sometimes, though, they go all out and do things that are kind of ... extreme. I'll give you an example.

This happened about a month ago — about a month before my thirteenth birthday. My sister, Tara, is fourteen, Dan is twenty and little Angie is three. Tara and I mostly get along by leaving each other alone. Sometimes we're nice to each other and sometimes we fight like it's going out of fashion, but mostly we just leave each other alone. I'm Rebecca by the way, but most people call me Bec.

It was a Saturday morning, Mom and Dad were sleeping in, Tara had gone out early to swimming practice, so I felt safe to wander into her room to grab one of her music CDs. I didn't know, but swimming was cancelled because of a problem with the chemicals in the pool. I had a couple of CDs in my hand and was trying to pick which one I wanted to listen to when Tara charged into the room ... busted!! She took one look at me and started yelling at me about always coming into her room and taking her stuff. Then I noticed one of my tops half hanging out of her laundry basket. I figured attack is the best sort of defense, so I yelled back at her about how she was always stealing my clothes and how that was my favorite and how I wanted to wear it the next day but now I couldn't and so on (not completely true, but hey, it was a fight and all's fair... ). Well she grabbed me and pushed me out of her room, still yelling, and slammed the door, and screamed, "and stay out of my room."

So I stood in the corridor screaming at her through the closed door for a bit, then I stomped down to my room and slammed my door shut behind me. Seconds later I heard Tara's door slam again, then mine burst open and she threw the top at me and yelled, "Have your skanky top back, I hope I stretched it." Then she stormed over to my desk and grabbed a pile of CDs off it, some were mine and a couple were hers but she said they were hers and she was taking them back and ... well you get the picture ... it was a pretty normal fight for us with lots of screaming and slamming doors.

This went on for, like, maybe half an hour or so and it ended with both of us charging together into The Parents' room, both talking over the top of each other, trying to persuade Mom and Dad to do something to make the other sister stay out of our room and leave our stuff alone. Well Mom and Dad were still in bed and cuddling under the covers, no way could they have slept through all the noise and they pretty much knew what the fight was about because half the neighborhood probably heard about it. But they just ignored us and kept whispering to each other, so we kept yelling about how we wanted locks put on our doors so we could keep stuff private.

Around about then, they rolled away from each other and sat up in bed to look at us. The looks on their faces kind of shut us up real quick as we started to realize that we made a mistake asking them to fix our fight. They were going to fix it their way and it wasn't going to be pleasant. Finally it was quiet and Dad said in a real calm voice, "Do you realize you both just charged into our room without knocking? You're each complaining about your sister doing the same thing that you just did to us."

We got sent to our rooms and told to stay there until further notice. I sat on my bed, wondering what was going to happen, when I heard Dad calling for Dan. Soon I could hear weird noises from the rest of the house. This went on for a while. Then my door opened. Dad walked in with Dan behind him. Dad totally ignored me, but Dan kind of looked at me strangely. Dan held the door and Dad went to the hinges with a nail and a hammer and knocked the little pin thing out, then the two of them picked up my door and carried it out of the room.

I just sat there staring out into the corridor. I was stunned! I didn't even know you could do that to doors. I always figured they were kind of permanent, but Dad had just taken away my door.

A bit later, Mom walked past. She looked in through my empty doorway and told me to follow her. We collected Tara and went into the kitchen for a family meeting. I followed along in a daze. There wasn't a single door left in the house, only the outside doors were still there. Even the bathroom door was missing. Mom had stuck paper labels on the walls outside our rooms with numbers on them. The Parents' room was "1," Dan's room was "2," Tara's room was "3,"mine was "4" and Angie's was "5." We sat down around the kitchen table. Dad and Dan were already there. Mom held Angie on her knee. They explained to us that privacy was a privilege not a right and that the doors wouldn't go back until we had learnt that. Tara complained about not being able to get changed and how, with the bathroom door missing, people would see each other going to the toilet and how that was gross. They just shrugged and said we would manage somehow. Then they went on to say that technically they owned everything in the house including the stuff that just happened to be kept in rooms 3 and 4 ... that's what they said ... rooms 3 and 4. Our rooms weren't our rooms any more ... and our stuff wasn't ours any more. I tried to object saying that we'd paid for some of the things in there, clothes and CDs and things. They just said we'd bought those things using their money, given to us as an allowance.

Mom then said, "Speaking of which..." and stood up and left the room. She came back a minute later with two purses, Tara's and mine. She tipped all the money in them onto the table ... which wasn't much ... we aren't that old, and pushed it across to Dad, saying, "We want our money back!" Tara and I were silent. What could we say?

Dad looked at the little pile of bills and loose change, picked up a couple of dollars and handed them to Tara. "The two of you have ruined our morning," he said. "You can both walk down to the shops. Get your mom and me some nice little present then come straight back. I want any change back too. This money isn't for you!"

So off we went. Once we were outside, I guess we both had a little rant at each other about how they couldn't do this to us, and how it was probably child abuse and such like, but eventually we kind of wound down and walked in silence. I guess we were both thinking back over the argument that started all this. I know I was.

We bought some chocolates for Mom and Dad and headed back. On the way back, we started fighting about whose fault it was that got us into this mess. Eventually, Tara turned around and stomped off to sit on a bench and I went on home on my own with the chocolates and the change.

As I came into the house, I could hear that Dad had one of Tara's CDs playing really loudly on the big stereo system in the living room. I wouldn't have minded so much except that it was a really old one that neither of us wanted to listen to any more. I walked into the living room and Dad was dancing around to the music and being silly. He was clearly in a good mood and it made me mad because I sure wasn't. Then I noticed that there was a huge line up of CDs on the shelf. Dad had taken all the CDs out of Tara's room and my room and stacked them all out here. I gritted my teeth and tried to smile. I handed Dad the change and the chocolates. He took the chocolates with a big smile and said "Why thank you, Bec. What a lovely present." He then grabbed my hands and tried to make me dance to the crappy music. I broke away as quickly as I could and headed off to my room.

I walked through the doorway and stopped cold. My baby sister Angie was sitting on my bed in the middle of a huge pile of my clothes. She had my favorite skirt wrapped around her like a blanket and was playing with my clothes. She was grabbing handfuls of shorts and t-shirts and panties and throwing them into the air. I was about to scream at her when I noticed Mom sitting at my computer watching me with a grin on her face. On the computer, I could see she had opened up a log of my last chatting session with my friends. I guess there wasn't anything really embarrassing there, my friends and I were all twelve after all, but they were things I thought of as private, not really for a mother to read. She just stared at me straight in the eyes and said, "These are not your things, Bec!" I'd gone beyond furious and was now just in complete shock. Mom stood up, saying, "Watch Angie playing please? Don't let her stick anything in her nose." She then kissed me on the cheek and left the room. That's when I noticed, Mom had let Angie play with one of my lipsticks. It was smeared on her face and hands ... and all over my clothes, including my favorite skirt. I glared at Angie and said really quietly, "Mom is evil!!!!!" Angie just hid her face behind my good jeans. Then I slid down to sit on the floor and started to cry.

That night, we had dinner together. Mom and Dad chatted on as if nothing was unusual. Dan was pretty quiet, just joining in occasionally. Tara and I were silent — just kind of keeping our heads down. After dinner, Dan went out and we all watched television. When it was bedtime, Mom looked at me with a stern face and said, "It's time for bed. Go to Room 3. When you are there, find some pyjamas to wear and go to bed. You will sleep in Room 3 tonight." Both us started complaining at once. That was Tara's room! Dad just cut through our complaints by telling Tara that she would be sleeping in Room 4 tonight, my room. We gave up and left the room.

We glared at each other a bit, then went into the bedrooms. No doors, so we could just walk right in. I went to the drawers and found one of Tara's t-shirt nighties to wear. I realised I needed to change panties too. I hesitated. I'd worn Tara's clothes before but never her underwear. I figured I had no choice so I picked a plain pair from her underwear drawer, staring in jealousy for a moment at the little pile of bras — I wasn't up to wearing a bra. I then wondered how I was going to get changed without being able to close the door. I put the nightie on over the top and wriggled around to take my other things off and change my panties. Finally I got into bed and lay there. This was really weird, lying in Tara's bed. There was light spilling into the room from the corridor, so I lay there looking around at the posters and things on her wall. Then I thought about Tara lying in my bed. I wondered what she was thinking about my room.

Mom came to say goodnight. I started crying and said I hated this. She hugged me and kissed me and told me she loved me. She tried to tell me everything would be okay. I didn't believe her. Then she left to see Tara and Dad came from talking to Tara to wish me goodnight. I tried to hug Dad and told him I was sorry, over and over again, and could we please put things back the way they were. But he gently pushed me away and said I needed to learn something and that it was important and this was a way of learning it. Eventually I calmed down a bit. Then Daddy looked me in the eye and said, "Bec, I love you. Trust me. I'm not doing this to hurt you. Nothing that has happened today has hurt you. You're upset because it's strange and I understand that. I want you to figure out what is important about this. I don't think you've done that yet. Don't worry about that, you're a smart girl, you'll figure it out. Try to get some sleep. Let tomorrow take care of itself. Good night." Then he kissed me and left the room. They turned out the light in the corridor, but there was still some light from other rooms and I could hear the TV. I lay there for a long time. Eventually I went to sleep.

I woke up in a strange bed, in a strange room. For a moment I panicked. Then the events of the day before came rushing back. I was in Tara's room. I'd slept in Tara's bed. I could hear Angie playing with some blocks in her room. I got out of bed in my nightie, I mean Tara's nightie, put a robe on and then wandered down to check on Angie. She was having fun with some blocks. She smiled happily at me then went back to building a tower with an intent expression on her face. She was fine. I needed to go to the toilet, so I went there next. Of course there was no door on the bathroom so I walked right in and I got the shock of my life. I came face to face with Mom sitting on the toilet. "Eeeeew!" I exclaimed. I guess I couldn't see anything because of Mom's clothes, but no twelve year old girl wants to see anyone sitting on the toilet, especially her mother.

Mom just looked at me and said good morning. "I didn't expect to see you up quite so early, yesterday was a big day." I just stood there like a lump of clay, thinking maybe I should just run away. Mom just kept talking as if this was the most normal thing in the world. "You should take a shower. Go back to the room you slept in and find some clothes to wear for today." I opened my mouth to object, but Mom cut me off. "Don't argue. You girls often wear each other's clothes, with or without permission. This really isn't any different." Just then Mom farted into the toilet and I burst out giggling. She laughed too then said "shoo" so I ran away, trying to stifle my giggles.

I went back to Tara's room and picked through her wardrobe. Of course I knew all her clothes and had worn quite a few things, Mom was right about that. Because we were pretty much the same size, Tara's clothes would all fit me. Some of them would be a bit loose around the chest though. I wondered briefly about wearing one of her bras and stuffing it with tissues so that I would fill out the clothes better but decided not to. It was Sunday and I had no plans so I grabbed some sweat pants and a top that I liked and headed back to the bathroom. Mom was gone by then, thank God, so I went into the bathroom. I put the fresh clothes on the bench and reached up to take off the nightie. Then I froze. There was no door. I would have to completely undress to take a shower. If anyone saw me nude I would just die of embarrassment, especially Dan or Dad. What could I do? I just stood there shaking.

Just then Tara walked into the bathroom, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. I squeaked and then shrieked "Get out."

Tara just stood there half awake and then gave a kind of half smile. "It's okay, I'm not looking. Mom sent me down here. She wants me to stand in the door while you shower and make sure Dan and Dad don't come in. Then you have to do the same thing while I shower." She then groaned and propped herself in the doorway. She was wearing a pair of my flannel pyjamas and had obviously just been dragged out of bed. She had her back to me.

I said "thanks" in a quiet voice and then turned around. I quickly skimmed out of my night clothes and jumped into the shower. I finished quickly, then dried and dressed in a hurry. All the time, Tara stayed propped in the doorway with her back to me ... I think she might have gone back to sleep standing up!! When I was finished, I nudged Tara and told her it was her turn. Then I stood in the doorway, crossed my arms and glared down the empty corridor, just daring Dan or Dad to show up so I could tell them to get lost. I could hear Tara getting undressed and showering behind me. I guess it felt kind of cool, protecting my sister from embarrassment like that. After a short time, Tara was finished. She hadn't brought clothes with her so she put on a bathrobe and we headed back to our rooms together.

I looked at Tara and said, "I think you're supposed to wear something of mine today." She just kind of looked at me with this blank look. She really still wasn't awake yet. Then she nodded and went on to my room. After a second of hesitation, I followed her and stood in the doorway. I didn't say anything as she fished out a pair of my jeans and a t-shirt. One of her bras was on the bed — I figured that was a present from Mom. She couldn't exactly wear one of mine. I didn't have any. I said, "I'll just stand in the door while you get changed," and turned my back. She said thanks and I listened to the sounds of her getting dressed behind me. As I stood there, Dad came down the corridor. I told Dad to wait there for a sec. He said okay and leaned against the wall. I guess he figured out why I was standing in the doorway like that. He asked how I'd slept and I said "okay I guess."

It wasn't long until Tara came up behind me and said "all done." The three of us then headed down the corridor to get breakfast.

Dan hadn't appeared yet, Dad said he got in late last night and was probably sleeping in. We chatted about our plans for the day. It felt kind of normal, which was weird. I had some homework to do which was on the computer in "my" room. I wondered what to do about it, but finally I just asked if I could use my computer to finish off my homework. Mom and Dad just looked at each other then Dad said I could use the computer in Room 4 to do my homework so that his investment in an education wouldn't be wasted!! I guess I kind of sighed, because Dad just grinned at me.

After breakfast, I went to do my homework but something made me walk the other way and I went to Dan's room, at the other end of the house. There was no door of course, so I stood in the doorway and could see Dan lying there in bed, fast asleep. I walked quietly in and sat down on his computer chair. It swivelled so I could turn it around and look at Dan. I'd never really seen Dan sleeping before. I mean I had, but I'd never really looked at him while he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful just laying there, his face all relaxed and gentle. There was the faintest of snoring sounds, maybe more just heavy relaxed breathing than snoring. I just sat and looked at him. The blankets had slipped down and exposed his shoulders and the top of his chest. He wasn't wearing any shirt. I took a second to admire the muscles in his shoulders. I guess I was just at the age where girls start to notice that men can be nice to look at.

About then Dan's breathing changed a bit. He's eyes blinked and slowly opened. I could see his eyes slowly focus as he realised I was sitting near him, watching him. He smiled gently. "Good morning, kiddo," he said.

"Hey there sleepyhead," I responded. I reached forward and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. Then I leaned down and gave him a kiss on his cheek. When I did that, I suddenly figured out why I had come into his room. With all the weirdness going on, Dan was still Dan. He was my big brother. With my love/hate relationship with Tara, and my parents being, well, The Parents, I'd always been able to talk to Dan about problems I had and he always seemed to love hearing about things I'd done. He was like my rock, and I'd been kind of swept away in the raging torrent of my parents' weirdness, so I'd come here to cling on to my rock so I wouldn't drown. "I love you Dan," I whispered in his ear. Then I turned and walked out of his room so that he could wake up and get up in peace. I went to "Room 4" to do my homework feeling better than I had in ages.

The rest of the day was pretty normal. Tara and I learned to go to the toilet with a long shirt hanging down so no one would see stuff they shouldn't. We learned to cough or talk loudly if we went near the bathroom so if someone was there, they would call out, and so we could avoid being grossed out. I got a phone call from my friend Liz and we chatted for a while. I said I was being punished and told her I'd explain about it at school. Tara spent time playing with Angie and I joined in for a while. Dan spent most of the day in his room; he had a lot of study to do. Mom and Dad did housework and stuff in the garden. We girls had chores to do like dishwashing and folding clothes. Mom had washed my favorite skirt and somehow gotten the lipstick stains out of it. Tara and I talked then carefully put our clean clothes away in the opposite rooms, so I had some of my clothes in "her" room and vice versa. We figured that way, whichever room we got to sleep in that night, we'd have some of our own clothes to wear. We were proud of ourselves for coming up with that little plan.

We got that one wrong. That night at bedtime, Dad said to us "You are both sleeping in room 1 tonight. Go there and find something to sleep in, and get into bed. We'll be along in a moment to wish you good night. They had just told us to sleep together in their room. They looked at the surprise on our faces then burst out laughing. Dan was there; he was grinning too. Tara and I looked at each other and I could see why they were laughing. The expression on Tara's face was priceless. Mine was probably the same. I guess it was kind of funny. Soon we joined in the laughter. Tara and I both hugged Dan goodnight, then headed off to our parents' room.

We stood inside the door and looked at each other doubtfully for a second. They'd told us to find something to sleep in so we decided to do that. We went to the cupboards and I found one of Mom's flannel nighties, it was a bit too big for me but it would do. I didn't dare wear some of the other stuff she had in her sleepwear drawer. Tara found one of Dad's old work shirts. It buttoned up the front and came down nearly to her knees. Her hands disappeared inside the sleeves until I helped her roll the sleeves up, both of us giggling away like crazy. Then we hugged and both got into bed. I realized that we'd just gotten changed in front of each other without getting all embarrassed. That was a first. We'd shared beds before, especially when camping or travelling, so that wasn't really new to us. I guess we'd even both slept in here with Mom from time to time when Dad was away on business. What was new was sleeping in this bed without Mom.

Our parents came in together and kissed us both good night. Then they grabbed some nightwear for themselves and left. We talked for a bit. This was the best we'd got on together for ages and I think we both enjoyed the chance to just be together and be nice to each other. I was on Mom's side of the bed and the faint smell of her perfume on the pillow wrapped around me like the warmest blanket in the world.

Maybe I dozed off so I can't be sure but I guess it was twenty minutes later when I realised that Tara was moving around strangely in the bed next to me. There was a tiny bit of light coming through the window but I couldn't really see what she was doing because of the blankets. She was lying on her back and the blanket was shifting over her tummy where she was moving her arms around. Finally I whispered to her, "What are you doing?"

She went still, then giggled a bit then whispered back to me, "I thought you were asleep."

"I'm not! What were you doing?"

"Don't worry about it, go to sleep."

"Tell me!"

She rolled over onto her side and lifted up on her elbow to look at me in the dim light. "Haven't you ever touched yourself? You know, touched your pussy?"

"I guess so, a bit."

"Do you ever just lie in bed at night and just stroke it?"

"Sort of!"

"Well? What does it feel like?"

"It's nice I guess. It makes me feel all tingly, down between my legs."

"You mean in your pussy?"

"Um ... yeah!"

"You have to say it. You have to say the words."

I bit my lip and looked at her, uncertain if she was teasing me, then I said it. "It makes me feel all tingly in my pussy." I could make out her smiling at me in the darkness.

"Well that's what I was doing. I was diddling myself." With that she rolled onto her back and I could tell she went back to doing ... that!

I could feel this hot flush all over my face and down the top of my chest. I was blushing so much I felt like I was glowing in the dark. Tara seemed to be just ignoring me so I just lay there. The place between my legs was kind of itching. I tried to ignore it for a moment, with Tara lying right beside me but in the end I couldn't. I slid my hands down my body and pressed down between my legs through the double thickness of my panties and the nightie. That helped a bit and I wanted to stop just like that. My hands had other ideas though, they started rubbing up and down, pushing the thin layers of material up and down against my little slit. It did feel nice. A warm tingle started deep down inside me, right underneath my hands. The tingling spread up my stomach to my belly button and one hand followed, while the other kept stroking down below.

I must have sighed or something 'cause Tara figured out what I was doing and started laughing at me. I whipped my hands away from myself and held them by my sides, a hot blush starting at my face and spreading all the way down my body. The tingling vanished like the light from a candle getting blown out. Just gone! Like it was never there!

Tara stopped laughing, then leant over and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered in my ear. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

I just looked up at the ceiling, nearly invisible in the dim light, wishing I could be just as invisible. I felt her shifting in the bed, then she was lying right beside me and I felt an arm reach over and pull me into a hug. I just lay there, refusing to acknowledge her.

Her mouth was right beside my ear. I could feel her breath against the little spot just under my ear. Then she kissed that same spot and started whispering again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. Don't feel bad about what you were doing. It's natural. Everyone does it."

I had nothing to say, so I just lay there. Then I rolled over onto my side putting my back to her. She wouldn't give up though, she shifted up behind me and put her arms back around me, her body pressed against my back. I felt a tear slide down from the corner of my eye onto the pillow and briefly wondered why I was crying. Tara was whispering something but I couldn't make out what she was saying. Her hand, on the arm that was wrapped around me, was stroking my face. I was still mad at her, but I also somehow craved the hugs and kisses she was offering. I freed my arms and grabbed her forearm, pulling it tight into my chest. I was hugging it like you would hug a teddy-bear. Lying there in my parents' bed, surrounded by the faint scent of my mother's perfume, wrapped in my sister's arms with her body pressed up behind mine, I went to sleep.

I woke up again later, in the same position. Tara was spooned up behind me with her arms still wrapped around me. It was still dark. I tried to move my head but I couldn't and realized Tara was lying on my hair. I just lay there, feeling Tara's warm breath against the back of my neck. I felt warm and snug, safe and secure. Her arms around me protected me from everything. Well just about everything. Everything but her, that is. I tried to puzzle out my feelings for Tara. I had all these questions going around inside my brain. How could I go from hating her to feeling like this, so quickly? How could she make me feel so bad and so good at the same time? I lay there for ages trying to figure things out. My brain was all confused. The best answer it could come up with was that I loved my sister, and that I always had. Even in the worst of our fights, I'd never stopped loving her.

The next time I woke up, it was to the sound of giggling. It was still really early. For once Tara had woken up before me, probably because she hadn't spent half the night awake, trying to sort out her mixed up feelings. I woke up pretty quick when I realized what she was giggling about. Tara had gotten out of bed and had put on one of Dad's suits. She still had his work shirt on that she'd slept in and had added a tie and jacket and pants. Everything was way too big of course, so the effect was hysterical.

Soon I was joining in as we tried on several of our parents' outfits. I ended up in Dad's dinner suit, complete with bow tie. I had the belt on his pants pulled to the tightest notch, and his pants still kept falling down on me. The pants legs were all crumpled around my calves so that my feet could poke out and my hands were completely invisible in the sleeves of the jacket. My feet positively swam in Dad's enormous shoes.

Tara had on one of Mom's fancy dresses, which was only a bit baggy in places. To fill it out in the chest, Tara had put on one of Mom's bras and we'd stuffed it full of tissues. Mom's boobs are a bit bigger than Tara's. She was also wearing a pair of Mom's high heels which were obviously also a bit large. She'd put on some bright lipstick and eye makeup too, to complete the effect, so I used eyebrow liner to draw a moustache on my face. As you might guess, we did all this through gales of giggles.

Finally we walked hand in hand down to "our rooms" to look for our parents. Tara was holding one of my hands and my other hand was holding my pants up. Tara had to keep using her free hand to adjust her stuffed boobs. It was hysterical. By this time it was nearly normal "wake up" time. Dad was sleeping in Tara's bed with his legs poking out over the end. Amazingly he was still asleep after all of our noise. We poked him in the chest and sang out "wakey-wakey!" He jerked awake and sat up, looking around through bleary eyes until he saw us. We said, "Come on, Dad, get up. We're ready for school."

He stared at us then he roared with laughter. Just then we heard Mom in the doorway laughing as well. She was holding Angie and had come to see what the fuss was. Dad bounded out of bed in his t-shirt and boxers and grabbed us both in a big hug. Mom came and joined in so we had a sort of great big group hug with everyone laughing. Angie didn't understand why we were laughing but she enjoyed the big hug. Dad didn't hug us like that very often so it was a nice change.

Finally Mom said, "I think you two should go check if Dan is awake, he won't want to miss seeing you two like this, then you both need to get some breakfast." So Tara and I held hands and went across to Dan's room at the other end of the house. When we were near his room, we yelled "Knock, knock" because there was no door to knock on, and we didn't want to burst in on him if he was changing.

We heard Dan say "come in," so walked turned the corner into his room. Dan was awake and sitting up in his bed in his boxers. He'd just pulled a t-shirt on as we came into the room. He gaped when he saw us, then he laughed out loud. We stood in the doorway and posed, like in fashion magazines. "So that's what all the noise was about." He came over to us and we all hugged together. I laid my head against Dan's big chest and sighed. It was my second group hug in ten minutes and I was feeling very loved and appreciated. I think Tara was too, because her eyes were shining brightly and she leaned into me and gave me a quick kiss on the side of the mouth. We then both reached up onto our toes and tried to shower Dan's face with little sisterly kisses. Dan laughed and fended us off, then said, "Okay, enough, I need to get dressed and you need to get changed ... unless you intend to go to school like that??" We winked at him and didn't answer his question as we turned and left his room. Tara was wiggling her butt at him as she walked out of the room. I thought that was bit cheeky ... get it? Cheeky? ... as in the cheeks of her butt? ... Sigh ... some people don't get my sense of humor.

We went straight to breakfast, but Mom looked at us and said, "You better not try to eat in those clothes or you'll make a mess. Go and find something suitable to wear to school and get changed." We turned and headed towards our own rooms. Very soon we were ducking between our two rooms helping each other find a good outfit to wear to school. Both of us ended wearing a mixture of our own and the other's clothes. It was huge fun, heaps more than dressing for school normally is.

School was amazingly normal, after everything that had happened over the weekend. It was nice to spend time with Liz and we chatted away whenever we could. I told her what was going on at home and her eyes were really wide. She shook her head in disbelief.

That night, we were each assigned to our "own" rooms and by Tuesday when we were assigned to the "other sister's room" to sleep in, I realized I was relaxed and comfortable in our new weird lifestyle. The CD collection was out in the living room and we both just grabbed whatever we wanted to listen to. Our things and clothes were now totally mixed between the two rooms and we stopped trying to keep track of who belonged to what. The shower and toilet situation was sorted by the two of us working together as a team, and the older folks having showers after we went to bed. Angie loved it because she got to wander everywhere and she wasn't shut out of places like she was used to.

Tara and I hadn't fought for four straight days, which had happened before, but we were actually nice and caring to each other for four straight days, which was a new record. Tara and I got used to changing in front of each other which we hadn't done since we were little and we made sure to give Mom and Dad space when we knew they were changing. Dan bought us a new CD that we liked and added it to the collection in the living room. Mom and Dad spent a lot of time laughing about the way things were. As far as we could tell, they had no intention of going back to the way things used to be.

While I was getting used to the situation, I didn't want it to stay like this forever. I wanted a place where I could sometimes go in and shut the door and be left alone. Not to mention the bathroom stuff. I wanted our parents to set things back straight, but I didn't know how to get them to do that. On Wednesday after school, I talked to Tara about it. She agreed with me, but couldn't figure out what to do either. Pretty soon we decided we both needed to see Dan, so we went to find him in his room. He was studying when we arrived but he seemed pretty happy to talk to us.

I started things off, "Dan, we don't understand something. We've stopped fighting; in fact we've been more friendly than ever with each other. Why is everything still all screwy? Why haven't our parents put things back to normal?"

He looked at us both carefully for a moment. "That's true; you have been really nice to each other lately. As for the rest, they are probably waiting for you to do something."

"But what?"

"I think they want you to figure that out for yourselves."

"Can't you help us?"

"Sure I'll help you, but you have to start helping yourselves a bit too."

I still wasn't sure how to start. "Can you give us a clue?"

"One thing you need to remember is that when The Parents do stuff like this, they don't come out and say what they want you to learn, but most of what they say will be a hint. Think about what they said and about what they didn't say. You'll get it."

"They said they own everything in the house," blurted out Tara. "They said nothing is ours."

Dan smiled, "Now you're on the right track. They said that, but they don't really believe it."

"They lied to us?"

"Of course they did! What does that tell you?"

I thought for a moment, "They lied to us because they wanted to confuse us, to mess with our heads. They didn't want us thinking straight about what was going on."

"Clever girl," said Dan with a smile.

"They didn't take anything away from us," chimed in Tara. "They just told us the things weren't ours any more. Then they messed your things up and put the CDs in the living room where anyone could use them."

We were silent for a while, just looking at each other's faces. I think both of us were kind of reviewing the conversation we'd just had and the things that had happened over the last few days. I found myself looking at the earrings that Tara was wearing. They were mine, a present from Aunty Penny last Christmas. But they looked really good on her. They kind of went with the shape of her face and the color of her hair. Suddenly I knew what to do. The question was, how to get Dan to help us do it.

I gestured at his open doorway, "Why did you let them take your door too? You weren't fighting."

"They weren't going to. I told them they had to."

"Why?"

"Partly because I hate it when you two fight all the time. I wanted to show both of you that I agreed with them about this, one hundred percent. I said I didn't want to be part of the room swapping games though, and they respected that."

"You said partly?"

"That's right!" He smiled at us.

I looked at Tara and tried to tell her with my eyes to back me up. She nodded at me, she'd figured something out too. I stood up. "Dan," I said as firmly as I could, "we're going to put the doors back, but they're kind of heavy. Will you help us?" He smiled really big. He didn't say anything. He just jumped up and we went together to the basement to get the first door.

When Mom and Dad got home later all the doors were back up and Tara and I were sitting at the table. I was decorating a big sign that said "Tara's Room" and Tara was decorating a similar sign for my room. The CDs were still in the living room but we'd put all our clothes back in our rooms. Dan was sitting in the corner pretending to read a book — he didn't want to miss this.

Our parents looked around a bit then came and sat down at the table with us. They didn't look mad, just intrigued. That was a relief. Dad picked up a handful of nuts from the bowl in the center of the table and started munching on them. Mom watched us decorating the signs for a bit then said, "You two have been busy."

I just shrugged and said, "You told us the doors wouldn't go back up 'til we'd learnt what you wanted us to learn."

Dad leaned back a bit and tried to keep a straight face but I could see the corners of his mouth going up. Mom looked at us both carefully, "So what have you learnt?"

They'd spent all their time making cryptic comments at us, so I decided to give them some of their own medicine. "We learnt that Dan told you to take down his door too." Mom and Dad's eyebrows shot right up to the top of their faces. It was so comical it was hard not to laugh. It was totally not the answer they were expecting. I think they wanted us to talk about privacy and all that. But in my mind my answer was way better than that. I heard this muffled snorting sound coming from Dan. He was trying not to laugh at their surprised looks.

Dad didn't say anything but he'd stopped munching on the nuts. Mom looked at each of us in turn then looked me straight in the eye and said with a really stern voice, "You'd better explain that young lady."

I was confident that I was right so I stared her straight back. I was working out in my head what to say then Tara butted in. "Dan told you to take his door as well because he knows that he is part of this family and he knows that we're all in this together. It didn't make sense to take down all the doors in the house except his." We hadn't talked about this so Tara had obviously figured things out the same as I had.

Dad finally chimed in asking, "Did Dan tell you all this?"

"Nah," I responded putting some disgust into my voice. "He just said he did it because he wanted us to stop fighting."

"Ahhhh!" said Dad, rolling his eyes up and making like everything had suddenly made sense to him. Dad and Dan exchanged grins, Dan was enjoying this way too much.

Mom wasn't finished though. "So what now?" she wanted to know.

"Well," I said as casually as I could, "tonight I will go to MY room and put on MY pyjamas and sleep in MY bed, and Tara will go to HER room and put on HER pyjamas and sleep in HER bed."

"Ahhhh!" said Mom, totally imitating Dad from a few seconds ago, as if we'd explained everything.

Dad reached across the table and grabbed her hand and said, "I told you they would work it out, my two girls are both very smart little cookies." They both looked at us with big smiles. Dan silently pumped his arms in the air, congratulating us for sorting things out in a good way.

"Wait a minute," said Tara, "I don't want to sleep in my room tonight." She glared at me. "You can't make me."

I gaped at her, so much for solidarity. Then I saw a glint in her eye, in the middle of all this tension, she was teasing me! "You can sleep out here on the floor for all I care," I said crossly, but I winked at her to let her know I wasn't cross.

"I won't," she declared. "I'm going to sleep in your bed tonight, and you can sleep out here on the floor."

"You will not."

"I will too, who's going to stop me?"

"Just 'cause you're older doesn't mean I can't kick your skinny butt out of my room."

Somehow we both managed to maintain straight faces as we exchanged insults. Pretty soon, we'd grabbed each other and were wrestling on the floor. Mom and Dad both groaned in unison and dropped their heads onto the table. Dan, who'd worked out we weren't being serious, just burst out laughing when they did that and that started the two of us off, and soon we were laughing and giggling and trying to tickle each other. Angie saw us rolling on the floor and came over to jump on the top of us. Dan yelled "stacks on" and sprawled all over us ... did I mention that Dan is pretty big?

Soon Tara and I were pretty well flattened. From where I lay, flat on the floor, trying to keep Angie's elbow out of my face, gasping for air under the combined weights of my two sisters and my brother, I could just see Mom and Dad shaking their heads at us in disbelief.

What?

What were they expecting?

A group hug?



-------

Chapter 2 : Cleanliness is next to...



It was a week before my thirteenth birthday. I guess that makes it about a month after that stuff with the doors. For most of that month, Tara and I had gotten on with each other pretty well. We even went shopping together once to look for school clothes; both of us have been getting taller. Mom even let Tara take her credit card, but she did check up on us later to make sure we didn't go over the limits she'd set. It was cool shopping with my sister and not having Mom trying to tell us what clothes to buy. Parents can be such a drag sometimes. Then that Monday, Tara had been really chirpy and bouncy. She'd hugged me and told me she had something to tell me, but then supper was ready and we spent the evening doing family things so as we went to bed she told me she'd tell me tomorrow.

Then on Tuesday, she came home from school, went into her room and slammed the door shut. She hardly spoke to me the rest of the week but she wasn't being mean, she just wanted to be left alone. I was wondering if it was her ... you know ... period, but I didn't ask her. By Friday night she was more cheerful and she went out with a couple of her girlfriends from school. She hadn't told me her big secret, but maybe it wasn't that important after all. On second thoughts, her boyfriend, Ray, hadn't been around all week either. That was a good thing. I didn't think much of Ray. Maybe they'd broken up! You can always hope!

It was Saturday night, Mom and Dad had gone out with Uncle Stan and Aunty Janice. It was their wedding anniversary, I don't remember which one, and Mom and Dad were helping them celebrate. Dan's football team had no game that week so he had gone out to a party and we'd been left to look after Angie. Of course Mom had made a fuss before they left and listed out a whole lot of rules for us along with things to do for Angie. Dad just smiled and wrote out the name and phone number of the place they were going plus his mobile number on a piece of paper; then he wrote in big letters: "Rule 0: Think before you act." Then he stuck the paper next to the phone. Mom's rules had started with Rule 1: No mess and went up to Rule 20: No boys! I liked Dad's list of rules better!

We changed Angie's diaper. It was a real stinky one, so we argued a bit about who was going to do the cleanup. It was that kind of friendly, joking argument you have sometimes when you both know it doesn't matter that much. We'd both changed smelly diapers before. Finally we had her all clean and put the cream on her bum and a fresh diaper and we put her to bed. I can't wait until Angie's properly potty trained.

Tara and I had hired a movie so we made popcorn and sat and watched it. Angie was unsettled and kept calling out so we had to stop the movie a few times and go talk to her, trying to get her to sleep. We couldn't figure out what Angie's problem was until finally I said maybe she's not used to us being here instead of Mom and Dad. I liked that we were spending a nice evening together, just the two of us hanging out. You know, looking after our sister and watching a movie together. It was cool.

Out of nowhere, Tara went all serious and said she had to tell me something. Then she dropped the biggest bombshell ever. She'd given up her virginity last weekend to Ray Staunton. I was all big eyes and scraping my jaw off the carpet. I tried to get her to give me details but she wouldn't say much except that the first time had hurt a bit, and was over really quick, but the second time was a bit better. She said neither time was special like people say it should be. Then she said Ray had dumped her that Tuesday at school. Turns out, as soon as they'd had sex, he lost interest and wanted to go with someone else.

Tara burst out crying and I held her and my top ended up soaked. She'd been holding it in all week and pretending everything was okay but it wasn't. I didn't tell her, but she hadn't done that good a job of hiding that something was wrong. Tara was really devastated and figured it must be because she hadn't been any good at, you know, the sex stuff. I wanted to say something, you know, reassuring, but I couldn't think of what to say. It's not like I'm an expert or anything, you know? In the end I just said Ray Staunton was an asshole. I mean he'd have to be to treat Tara like that, wouldn't he?

Eventually Tara stopped crying and I even got her to laugh a bit by cracking really bad jokes but making Ray the punch-line. You know, like: "What's the difference between a deer and Ray Staunton? If you saw a deer on the road, you'd swerve to avoid it!" After that, we kind of gave up on the movie and just sat holding each other and coming up with more jokes like that. By about ten or so, Tara was feeling better and Angie had finally gone to sleep so we decided to call it a night.

I went to get ready for bed while Tara went around the house and double checked that all the doors and windows were locked. The phone rang and it was Dad checking up on us. I told him we were just getting ready for bed and he reminded me not to forget to check the doors and windows were locked. I said, "Yes Dad, but that only means the bikie gang we invited over would be locked in here with us."

Tara had heard me on the phone so she leaned in to listen in time to hear Dad laugh and say for me to tell the bikers he had a shotgun and wasn't afraid to use it if they laid a finger on his daughters. Tara yelled it was bit late for that as they'd already stripped us nekkid and turned us into their sex slaves. Dad went quiet for a second, but then he laughed and called us scamps. He said if everything was okay with us, they were going to go on to a nightclub and they'd be home a bit after midnight. I said that was okay and we'd see them in the morning.

We finished getting ready for bed, giggling to each other about being sex slaves to a gang of bikers. I don't know why we'd picked on bikers. The only biker I know is Liz's dad. He's like really big, with a beard and tattoos and everything and he's about the sweetest man I know, except for Dad and Dan of course. But it would be weird, wouldn't it? Being nude, I mean, in the middle of a bunch of guys with beards and leather and them touching you all over and doing — you know — stuff. But then, if you were their sex slave they might do disgusting stuff to you as well, and maybe make you do disgusting stuff to them. I crawled into bed and wrapped the blankets around me and tried to tell my brain that the movement outside the window was just a tree swaying in the wind. My brain didn't really believe me.

I guess it was only about half an hour later. I was lying in bed, still trying to go to sleep, when the phone rang again. I stumbled out of bed to answer it but Tara got there first. I stood there blinking my eyes in the sudden light and tried to make sense of her side of the conversation. It was all grunts and "I know who you are" and "What?" and "No they're not here" and "Yeah" and "Really?" Finally she looked at me and said, "Dan's drunk. He's completely wasted. It's his friend Steve. The cops shut down their party. Neither of them can drive, they tried to walk home. They're in that little park on Westbury St. Dan laid down and went to sleep. He was hoping one of our parents could go and fetch them."

"Wow!" I said. "Um ... give him Dad's mobile number."

Tara read the number to Steve then listened and said okay. Steve put her on hold while he dialled Dad. After a bit she and Steve talked again. It turned out Dad's mobile was giving a "not switched on or out of area" message. She looked at me for a second and then said for Steve to just stay there and we'll come and help get Dan home.

I looked at Tara like she was crazy, but she just shrugged at me and said Dan needs our help. I couldn't argue with that so we went to get dressed. I just pulled jeans and a sweatshirt over my pyjamas, put on my socks and shoes and I was ready. I met up with Tara back in the kitchen, and then I saw Dad's bit of paper by the phone with his Rule 0 in big letters. I said, "Wait, let's think about this."

"Okay!"

"How can we help Dan when we get there?"

"He's too big for us to carry him."

"I know!"

"What about the old shopping cart with the big wheels? We could put him in it and push him home."

"Is it strong enough?"

"Should be. Remember when Dan put the two of us in it and pushed us round the back yard?"

"Oh yeah, okay, we'll take the shopping cart."

"What else?"

"Angie! We can't leave Angie alone in the house."

"We'll have to take her with us."

"In the stroller!"

"Yeah!"

"What else?"

"We should leave a note in case The Parents get home before we get back!"

"Good idea!"

So I went and bundled up Angie, turned out she was awake again anyway, and put her in the stroller while Tara wrote a note. Then Tara phoned Dad again but still couldn't get through, so she left a message on his voice mail. Then I thought of something and went and looked in the side table on Mom's side of the bed. Sure enough, her work phone was there. I grabbed it. We weren't supposed to touch it except in emergencies, but I figured, if we had an emergency while we were out, it could be handy. I showed it to Tara and she dialled back Dad's number and left another message saying we had Mom's work phone with us. Then she looked at me and asked if we were ready. I said yeah, so we headed for the door.

Then I thought of something else, so I ran back to the phone and went through its memory to find Steve's number. I phoned him and asked if he and Dan could meet us at the bus stop this side of the park 'cause we didn't want to walk through the park on our own at this time of night. He said no problem, so I hung up and we left. We made sure to leave some lights on so it looked like someone was home and locked the door. Then we headed up the street, me pushing Angie in the stroller and Tara pushing the shopping cart.

It was weird to be out walking the streets at that time of night, especially with Angie in the stroller. It wasn't that scary. We don't live in a bad area and the streets were pretty quiet. A few cars went past. One car had a couple of guys leaning out the windows. They whistled at us — well they whistled at Tara — but I don't think they knew what to make of two girls with a cart and a baby in a stroller, so they just drove off.

Finally we made it to the Westbury Street bus stop and there was Steve sitting on the bench and there was Dan throwing up into the gutter. When we got close, we realized their clothes were all wet and slimy and smelly. It turned out they'd fallen into the pond in the park. That pond should have Health Hazard signs around it. Steve was clearly drunk but still mostly with it, but Dan was completely wasted. Now I understood why some people use the phrase "legless" to describe someone who had too much to drink. We waited 'til Dan had stopped throwing up, then Steve helped us get Dan onto the cart. His legs hung out one end and his arms and shoulders and head hung out the other. It looked pretty funny, but it worked.

Dan went to sleep with his head on the handle of the cart. Tara and I talked with Steve on the way back but Steve was paying more attention to Tara than me. I finally figured out that Tara and Steve were flirting with each other so I got quiet and just pushed Angie. I like Steve and normally he's pretty nice to us when he comes round to the house, but with all the booze, he was just being a bit ikky with Tara and saying stuff he normally wouldn't say to a fourteen year old. At least I hope not, he's twenty years old for crying out loud. He might have done more but his clothes were wet and slimy from the pond and he stunk of booze and slime so when he tried to put an arm around Tara she just went "Eeew" and pushed him away. That made me feel better. All that stopped when we got to the big hill. It was just as well Steve was with us 'cause it took all three of us pushing to get Dan up the hill. Finally we made it to the top, then we were at Steve's place so we said goodbye. Steve tried to kiss Tara goodbye, but she just pushed him away.

It's downhill from there to our place, so after leaving Steve, it was easy to get Dan home. Except that Dan suddenly woke up and lurched to the side and threw up. That would have been fine, but that was exactly where I was, so his sick went all over me. It was pretty gross! I mean, I'd had Angie throw up on me but that was just a little bit. This was lots and lots and it was all up and down one leg of my jeans and all over one arm and down the side of my sweatshirt. Eeew! Tara just laughed at me. In the end, I just laughed too. I mean, what else could I do?

We got back to the house and it was just as we left it, so clearly The Parents still weren't home. Tara took Angie in through the front door; she was fast asleep by then. No way could Dan and I go in there the state we were in, the mess would have gone right through the house. So I pushed Dan around the back where we have a door straight into the laundry. I woke Dan up by slapping his face and shaking him a bit. Then I tipped him out of the trolley and tried to help him stand up. He got halfway up then fell over with me underneath. Did I mention that Dan is twice my size? I wriggled around but I could hardly move. I started giggling. I was basically spread eagled, flat on my back. Dan was sprawled all over me.

I heard Dan murmur, "Hey babe!" Then he shifted his head and kissed me on the side of my neck, just under my ear. Then he kissed the side of my jaw.

I felt a little shiver go through me. That was weird. I figured he didn't realize who it was, so I was saying "Get off, Dan! You're heavy! It's me, Bec! You have to get up!"

Dan shifted so his face was just over mine. His breath stunk of beer and puke. I could see his eyes trying to focus on my face. "Bec? What are you doing in my bed?"

"We're not in your bed. We're in the back yard. Now get off of me!"

He peered around, and then started to struggle his way off me. All his weight pressing down on me, then moving around on top of me, was making weird tingling sensations run through me. My nipples seemed hyper sensitive 'cause when his hand brushed over my chest I felt this jolt go through me. I lay still, staring up at Dan, trying to figure out what was going on. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest. My whole front felt flushed, from my face, right down my chest, through my tummy and even further down. Dan was completely oblivious to whatever was going on with me and just kept trying to get up. Finally Dan was on his hands and knees hanging over me. Then he sat back on his heels. I kept lying there for a second, trying to figure things out, but my brain was all fizzy and nothing made sense.

Finally the cold ground under my back reminded me what I was supposed to be doing, so I clambered to my feet and looked down at Dan kneeling on the ground. I grabbed his arm and looped it over my shoulder so I could help him up. By the time he was standing up he was swaying like a tree in a storm. I couldn't hold him like that so both my arms went around his waist and I hugged him close to me and we kind of shuffled towards the back door to wait for Tara to open it for us. He still stunk but I'd kind of gotten over that. It was more important to hold Dan up than worry about my tortured nose.

Tara seemed to take forever. When she finally opened the door she said she'd put Angie to bed and had put another message on Dad's voicemail to say we were back safely. At least, I think that's what she was saying, my brain was still fizzy and it was all I could manage to keep my arms wrapped around Dan and steer him inside.

We helped Dan into the laundry, but he seemed to space out a bit and leant against the wall. We decided that we had to get his clothes off and put him in the shower before we could put him into bed because even his hair was gross. One part of my brain was embarrassed about peeling Dan's clothes off like that, but another part of my brain was just concentrating on doing what needed to be done and the two parts weren't talking to each other.

Finally we got him down to just his boxers, but they were wet and grotty too. Tara hesitated for a bit. Then she skimmed his boxers down as well. So there I was looking at my first naked boy ever, even if it was my brother. I know I was blushing and I think Tara was embarrassed too. I realized I was staring at his thing and dragged my eyes away. But I was puzzled, I'd heard they were supposed to be about five to seven inches long and all stiff, but his was less than that and just hanging down like a ... I don't know, a big fat worm thing, pointing down at the floor. Tucked in behind it was a little bag of wrinkly skin hanging down — that must be his balls. Just above his thing, there was a thick patch of curly hair, dark and all matted together. I looked up at Tara and whispered, "I thought it was supposed to be all stiff and sticking out."

She giggled at me then she whispered back, "That's just when he's looking at a pretty girl or when he wants to have sex."

I looked up at his face to see where he was looking, but his eyes were closed and he was kind of humming to himself.

Tara brought me back to earth by telling me I'd have to strip off too; my clothes were nearly as messy as his. I gulped a bit, then I pointed out she had slime on her too from hanging on to Dan. So we both kicked off our shoes and started to peel off our jeans and tops, dropping them in the washer on top of Dan's stuff. I hoped I could stop when I got down to my pyjamas but I realized that somehow dirt from the backyard had got onto the back of them too, so I ended up in just my panties. Goosebumps were running up and down my arms; and all down my body too. And did I mention my brain was all fizzy? Tara glanced at me then stripped down to her panties too. She wasn't wearing a bra of course because this had all started with us in bed. I felt a brief pang of jealousy. Tara's boobs aren't that big, but at least she has them. I wanted to cover myself up with my hands. I hate my scrawny, boobless body, but I couldn't cover up because we had to put in the powder and start the washing machine and then we had to hold Dan up and steer him out of the laundry and into the bathroom.

When Tara let go of Dan to get the shower started, he swayed and staggered. I had to use all my strength to stop him from falling. I realized that we would have to get into the shower with him or he'd fall and hit his head on the tiles. When I said this to Tara she looked at Dan, then back at the shower, then back at me and nodded. She skimmed her panties off and stepped backwards into the shower, pulling Dan in with her.

I bit my lip and then took mine off as well. I noticed the crotch of my panties was all wet, I couldn't figure out why. Remember my head was still all fizzy? It was like I was having a weird dream or something. I scooped up Tara's panties from the floor and dropped both pairs into the clothes hamper. Then I stepped into the shower to join my brother and sister.

If anyone had told me this morning that I'd be doing this, I'd have laughed and laughed and laughed at them like they were a crazy person.

I don't think they designed the shower stall for three people. It was a bit crowded in there. On the plus side, no one was going to fall over. Tara and I had Dan wedged between us. We all quickly got wet and that made Dan slippery to hold onto. I basically had to plaster myself against him and wrap my arms around him. Everywhere, up and down my body, I was like, hyper-aware of how my skin was touching Dan's. It was the most incredible sensation ever. I was tucked in under one of Dan's arms so it was hanging down my back. Dan was pretty well out of it, but not totally, because he started running his hand up and down my spine, just gentle little caresses. Everywhere his hand touched me I was feeling little shivers and sparks in my back.

In the meantime, Tara was stretching up to wash and shampoo Dan's hair. I just stood there, entranced by the way the bubbles from the shampoo were running in little rivers down his chest. I reached up one hand and ran it back and forth across the hard muscles on his chest. The soap made it easy for my hand to glide over his skin. I explored up to his shoulders and then back down to his stomach. He had this thin string of hair that ran up his middle, from the big thatch of hair above his thing, up past his belly button to just below his ribs. I laid my head against his chest and looked down so I could watch as I ran fingers up and down that strip of hair from his chest down to his belly button then up again. All the time, Dan's hand was caressing my back. I wasn't cold, but I sure was feeling shivers.

I remembered with a start that I was supposed to be washing him. I grabbed the soap from the soap dish and held it in my hand as I ran it over his stomach and around his sides. I heard a squeak from Tara and looked up at her. She was standing tucked in under Dan's other arm, with the arm draped over her shoulder. Dan had his eyes closed and was nuzzling into her wet hair. His other hand, the one not stroking my back, was wrapped over her shoulder and had reached across and cupped around her breast.

Tara stared at me with wide eyes then squeaked again as Dan squeezed her breast then ran his fingers over her nipple. I heard Dan muttering "Hey babe," then he said something else but his voice was really slurred and I couldn't understand what he was saying. Tara was looking shocked and staring at me. The shower had plastered her hair down onto her head, strips ran across her face. Water was dripping down off her nose and running down through her hair. I figured I probably looked much the same. I could only stare back at Tara, wondering what she would do, wondering what it felt like, wondering if someone would one day squeeze my future breast like that.

Then she giggled and said, "I'm being felt up by my own brother ... and he's doing a damn sight better job of it than Ray Staunton ever did, even though he's completely wasted."

I giggled back at her then watched as she carefully grabbed Dan's hand and held it away from her boob. Because of where I was, I could only see one of Tara's boobs, but the nipple on that boob was standing out in a hard, sharp point. My own nipples were sticking out so hard they hurt!

Round about then I realized that I had one leg each side of Dan's and my body had ground my ... um ... my lower tummy against Dan's big leg muscle. I wasn't thinking about it, it was just doing it on its own. I had completely lost control of my own body! This really warm sensation had started between my legs and now it spread up through my tummy and down into my thighs. I closed my eyes and hugged myself against Dan as an amazing wave of sensation just rolled up through my body. My whole body was trembling for a moment, and then it was gone and it left behind this incredible, warm, relaxed feeling, like I was floating.

I must have sighed or something, 'cause the next thing I heard was, "Oh My God!!" I looked up and Tara was staring at me with this incredible look of amazement on her face. "Did you just have a cum?"

"Um..."

"You did too! You just had a cum! My little sister, the sex maniac, just humped her brother in the shower until she came!" Then she started giggling.

I was blushing so much I must've been glowing, but I didn't let go of Dan, I just hugged him tighter and tried to hide my face in his chest. I was feeling this real weird mix of embarrassed-but-happy at the same time. And my whole body was still tingling and my brain was back to being fizzy.

Then Tara leaned over and kissed me on the side of my mouth and whispered, "Way to go, sis!" Tara was giggling some more, then I felt this little sheepish smile start on my face, and then I was giggling too.

Tara looked down Dan's body, then grinned mischievously and said to me, "Did you wash his dick?"

"Um ... no."

"Well you should. That looks dirty too."

I was about to say I couldn't, but then I stopped myself. I took a deep breath and looked down at his thing. It was much longer than it was before and wider too, and the round bit at its end was a much darker red. It was still mostly pointing down, but it was kind of standing out away from Dan's body more than it was before. I kind of swallowed, then reached out with my soapy hand. I was about to touch my first ever boy's thing, I mean dick. Ignoring the fact that it belonged to my drunken brother, it was a big moment for me. I grasped it and slid my hand down its length. The skin was really soft to touch but it seemed harder underneath. It was really floppy though, I waggled it and the whole thing wiggled like a ... um ... I don't know, like a toy snake or something. I ran my hand down it again and I felt it twitch and shift under my hand. I squeaked a bit and let it go. Now it was even bigger and pointing more away from him than down. I realized Dan was getting a hardon and I wondered why. I held my hands behind my back and stepped away, but couldn't go far as I ran into the wall of the shower. I think I squeaked.

"I guess we're done," said Tara with weird sort of sigh. She turned the water off and started steering Dan out of the shower. I leant against the wall of the shower, dripping. Did I mention my brain was all fizzy? My legs were all trembley and they weren't doing a good job of holding me up. The wall was helping, but not a lot.

"Bec! Get out here! I can't do this on my own!" It was Tara, grunting with effort, trying to steer Dan over to the small chair we keep in the bathroom. With my help we managed to sit him down and towel him 'til he was mostly dry. Then we dried ourselves off, except our hair; that would have to wait until later. First we had to get Dan over to his bedroom and into bed.

"Hey girls, watcha doin?" It was Dan, sitting slumped on the bathroom chair. His voice was all slurred and he was peering through half-open eyes, but he was finally aware enough to figure out it was us in the room with him. "Watcha all nekkid for?"

I froze for a second, feeling mortified that Dan was looking at my naked body. Don't ask me to explain that. I don't understand it either. I'd just been naked and in the shower with him for ages and it had only bothered me a little bit. I guess the difference was that now he was aware enough to recognize me ... and to realize that I was naked. I guess it freaked me out. I scurried to the bathroom door and grabbed a couple of bathrobes for Tara and me, from where a bunch of them hung on hooks on the back of the door. Wrapping that towelling robe around me and tying up the belt made me feel a whole lot more secure.

Dan lurched to his feet and declared that he was going to bed. He staggered to the doorway of the linen closet and tried to open it. Tara and I each wrapped a towel around our hair, all the time trying to tell Dan he was at the wrong door. Finally we both got the towels finished and steered Dan out through the right door into the corridor and towards his room.

We got safely through the door and about three steps down the corridor when all three of us lurched suddenly to a halt. The remaining warm and fuzzy feelings left inside me disappeared as if I'd been dunked in a bucket of cold water. All I could do was stand, one arm wrapped around Dan's naked waist, the other holding his arm over my shoulder. We had come face to face with The Mother.

Given where we were and how we were dressed — or in Dan's case, undressed — even a stupid person could've figured out we'd just been in the shower together, and nobody ever accused Mom of being stupid. All I could do was stand there, blinking, waiting for that big axe to fall.

It was Dan who broke the ice, when he slurred out. "Lookin' good, Momma!" I looked again at Mom. She was all dolled up in an aqua evening gown and matching heels with her hair all done up nicely. I had to agree with Dan, she surely was looking fine! I do believe I saw her cheeks go pink in just the smallest of blushes too. Then Dan's big, drunken mouth had to keep going, "Didja get lucky tonight, Momma? I scored me a coupla babes, and they was just takin me ta bed!"

I know I gasped, and I'm sure Tara did too, then I gasped again as Dan squeezed both of us into his sides, squeezing the breath out of me. I knew Dan was just trying to tease Mom but that didn't stop his comment being a bit embarrassing. Then I figured I'd brave it out, so I wriggled in a way I figured might look a bit sexy and laid my head against Dan's side. At that moment, all the squeezing and shifting and wriggling caused the belt on my robe to come undone and my robe just fell open, exposing everything I had to Mom. I just about died. I thought I could be as flirty as the next person, but all my confidence vanished when I was so exposed in front of my mother. I tried to rescue my robe but one arm was caught behind Dan and the other was trapped beneath Dan's arm, squeezing into my side. All I could do was stand there and blush and maybe whimper a bit. Right then I had a lot of understanding for the rabbits caught in truck headlights, you know, the ones that can only sit and stare as their doom rushes down on them.

Mom kind of half-smiled, then said "I see that rumors of my family being stripped 'nekkid' and turned into sex slaves have some basis in reality!"

Then she stepped forward and closed my robe for me, retying the belt with quick, efficient moves. I tried to thank her with my eyes; I didn't trust my mouth to work properly. Mom quickly kissed me on the cheek, then she grabbed Dan's chin and used it to tilt his head so she could look straight into his eyes. "Hmmm, I'm thinking bed is a really good idea for you right now, but your harem won't be joining you there."

Then she sighed and turned, striding towards Dan's room, with a quick "Come on then" flung over her shoulder. All we could do was shuffle after her in silence.

Mom held the door for us to get into Dan's room, and then threw back the blankets on his bed. Dan finally let us go. He crawled onto the bed before collapsing in a naked, ungainly heap. Mom gently pulled the blankets back over him and tidied them up. Dan was snoring by the time she was finished. Tara and I stood by the door and watched silently as Mom sat for a moment on the bed and tenderly stroked his hair. Then she sighed and shook her head before standing, turning each of us by a shoulder and guiding us out the door. Mom steered us towards the living room, then ducked into Angie's room to quickly check on her.

Dad was waiting in the living room, seated in his usual chair, looking relaxed but his eyes were alert when we entered the room as he took in our bathrobes and towel-wrapped heads. Tara and I glanced at each other and then took our places, side by side, on the couch. We both sat carefully and adjusted our robes to make sure we didn't flash anything we shouldn't flash. Not a word was spoken until Mom rejoined us and took up her usual chair.

To tell the absolute truth, I had no idea if we were in trouble or not. I didn't think we'd done anything particularly wrong by going to fetch Dan and bringing him back, but I suspected if they wanted to, they could decide we shouldn't have done it. We sat and explained our actions; what we did and why we did it. We took turns to answer questions. Dad explained that the place they'd been in for dinner had a singer and had asked for mobile phones to be turned off. He'd gone outside to phone us, then gone back in and turned his phone off again. He forgot it was off until they were driving home when they heard all our messages at once. He apologized to us for the problems that caused.

We told them the whole story. We'd long ago learnt not to lie to The Parents in these sorts of situations, and we weren't sure if we were in trouble or not. We did edit the truth a bit. We left out stuff about Steve hitting on Tara, we left out stuff that happened in the shower, but apart from that, we told the whole story. Finally we finished and sat looking at The Parents' faces.

They looked at each other and did that amazing parent-telepathy thing they do. You know, where they make a joint decision by just looking at each other. Then Mom looked at her watch and said, "Well it's after one in the morning, let's all get to bed." She stood up and waited for us to stand as well.

"But ... are we in trouble?" Tara wanted to know.

"Of course not!" put in Dad. "You did everything just about right! In fact, I would have been disappointed if you didn't help your brother, given the circumstances. Good night, I'll see you in the morning." With that, he pulled himself up out of his chair and headed out of the room.

"But Mom, what about Dan? Is he going to be in trouble?" I wanted to know.

Mom gave that little half smile of hers.

"Well getting drunk like that has its own punishment attached. It's called a hangover!"

Then her smile turned really evil.

"And I intend to enjoy every minute of it."



-------

Chapter 3 : Sunday Breakfast



My mom is evil! I mean, really evil. Don't get me wrong. I love her and all that, and a lot of the time she's really nice. But when she gets it into her head to give someone a hard time, you do not want to be that someone. This time it was my brother Dan who was in her sights and she was locked, loaded and ready to fire. I guess until I'm older and have had a few hangovers myself, I won't really understand just how evil Mom was that Sunday morning, but I had a pretty good idea when it was happening.

Dan had gotten drunk the night before. Really, really drunk! And Mom was severely ticked off. She knew he would have a hangover, and she intended to extract the full extent of suffering from him. Unfortunately, my sister Tara and I were unwilling recruits for her little games.

When Mom first came to get me for breakfast, I was in my room dressed only in panties, looking at myself in the mirror. Something, I hasten to add, I don't do very often. I know I have an ugly body so I usually don't bother looking at it. Maybe I'll explain why I was looking later, but right now, this is about Mom.

Mom knocked on my door as she opened it, dressed in her usual Sunday dress, plus frilly apron, to find me standing there in my underwear. Of course I squealed and turned my back on her, before yelling "MOM!" at her in my most outraged voice. I was mortified that Mom had walked in on me like that.

She snorted at me, "For goodness sake, girl, put some clothes on. It's nearly time for breakfast, and you certainly won't be getting fed if you turn up dressed like that!" As if I would ever turn to breakfast like that anyway!! With that she started to leave, then stopped and turned back, "Why don't you wear that nice top your Aunt Janice gave you last Christmas?"

I had been in the process of wrapping a robe around myself when she dropped that little bombshell. I held it closed around me as I turned to stare at Mom in shock. "But Mom, it's ugly! I hate that thing."

"Don't be silly! It's perfectly nice. I'm sure your aunt will be delighted to hear that you've been wearing it."

Mom had that tone of voice that made it plain that there was no point arguing. Silly me, I tried anyway; "Mom, pleeeeeease, do I have to?"

Mom put this really severe look on her face, then just reached into the wardrobe and pulled it straight out. She didn't have any trouble spotting it in the middle of my other clothes. The damn thing was a bright iridescent green with yellow and purple splotches all over it. I think it was probably radioactive! I was quite convinced that wearing it would expose both me and everyone around me to a crippling dose of deadly gamma rays.

"Oh, will you tell Tara she can wear hers too. For some reason, hers ended up in the rubbish, but I rescued it and washed it so it should be perfect. It's on a hanger on her door. Oh and do be a sweetie and get her up for me, I have to get back to cooking breakfast. You've got fifteen minutes." She'd done that whole speech with a sickly sweet, butter-wouldn't-melt smile fixed to her evil, evil, evil face. Then she left the room, closing the door behind her before I had a chance to respond.

Boy, did I want to respond. You see Tara is not a morning person. I usually wake up before her, and I usually wake up quickly. Tara, on the other hand, well ... ughhh! To make things worse, we'd both been up extremely late the night before. Waking Tara was not my idea of a fun way to spend Sunday morning.

Realizing I had little choice, I sighed and pulled on some clean sweatpants and the monstrosity of a shirt. I know, the shirt didn't go with the sweatpants, but I wasn't sure if I owned anything that would go, so I opted for at least a little bit of comfort. I headed next door to Tara's room, knocked and went in. I didn't bother waiting for a reply; I knew Tara would still be fast asleep. I went to the window and pulled the curtains apart a bit so there would be some light in the room, then went and sat on the bed next to my sister.

I grabbed her shoulder and gave her a firm shake. "Hey! Wake up!" No response! I shook her again and got a muffled groan. A third shake resulted in a long, drawn-out moan while she rolled flat onto her stomach and buried her head, face first, into the pillow.

"Wakey-wakey, Tara! You have to get up!" I grabbed all her blankets and stripped them down to the bottom of her bed. Tara was wearing a long pale-blue nightie, but it was all twisted up and had ridden up so she was flashing her panty-clad ass at me.

"Mnnmmmphgh! Get orraffmmm y litllll raaaat!" (At least I think that's what she said!!)

I shook her again. "Come on, Tara, wake up!"

A fist came flying blindly back at me and struck me right on the chest. It hurt! I mean she hadn't hit that hard but my chest had been tender lately, and she'd connected right there. I grabbed her wrist firmly with both hands, backed off the bed, and hauled backwards as hard as I could. Sure enough, Tara came sliding straight off the bed and thumped onto the ground, pillow still clutched firmly in her other arm.

"Owww! What did you do that for, you little shit?"

"You hit me! You utter bitch! Mom sent me to get you up. You have to get up."

"I'm up!!" It was more of a groan than a statement, and at the same time, she curled up on the floor and put her head back on the pillow.

"Come on, Tara, you have to get moving!" The white panties stretched over her backside were too inviting a target. I leaned down and smacked her, right on the bum.

She suddenly spun around and sat up, glaring at me through a mess of tangled hair. "Get lost you pile of scum! If you touch me again, I'll..." her voice trailed off and she squinted at me and used a hand to clear hair away from her eyes. "What the fricking hell are you wearing?"

I sighed, "Aunty Janice gave it to me last Christmas. Mom wants you to wear yours too." I waved at the chair in front of her dresser, where I'd draped Tara's shirt on the way into the room. Her shirt was as bad as mine. It was a luminescent yellow with multi-colored diagonal stripes.

Tara stared at it in horror, and then groaned. "Shit, I knew I should have burnt that wretched thing! Ohhh kill me now!!" With that she fell backwards so hard, her head made an enormous thump as it hit the floor.

I was sooooo tempted!!!

"You have about ten minutes to get ready for breakfast. You have to be wearing that shirt. I don't think Mom's in the kind of mood where you can get away with being late." I turned and left, closing the door behind me. I went to my room and spent a few minutes brushing my hair, then headed for the kitchen. Mom saw me arrive then grabbed an old saucepan and headed off to Dan's room. I slid into my chair and looked around the table. Mom had obviously been busy. The kitchen smelt strongly of frying bacon and burnt toast and some other fairly strong smells I couldn't identify. I wondered about the burnt toast smell. Mom had never burnt a piece of toast in her life. The table was loaded with plates of food, all of them covered with lids to keep the food hot.

At that moment I heard an awful clanging sound from Dan's room. Mom was obviously bashing the saucepan with a metal spoon. Then I could hear her screaming at Dan to wake up and how he was already late for breakfast and so on. She sounded pretty furious.

Tara and Dad slid into their chairs just as Mom came back into the kitchen. Tara had her revolting yellow shirt on. Dad was wearing this awful Hawaiian shirt. I was pretty sure he hadn't chosen to wear it. With the three of us sitting in a row like that, we clashed horribly with each other, we clashed with the kitchen furniture, and we clashed with ourselves. I know I was wincing at the sight. As usual for breakfast, Tara was just sitting slumped over, staring down at her empty plate. She seemed oblivious of the fashion crime we were all committing.

Mom had come back to the kitchen, relaxed and smiling. She put the now dented saucepan into the sink, then moved around the table, pouring milk for each of us, all the time singing this little song under her breath. I reached out to my glass to have a mouthful of milk but Mom slapped my hand away from the glass. Then she was standing next to me with a collection of tiny colored bottles in her hands. She selected one then carefully dripped several drops into my milk.

"What are you doing?"

"It's just food dye. It has no taste. It just changes the color. Now give it a stir."

I picked up a small spoon and stirred my milk. Then I stared in a mixture of wonder and revulsion. Have you ever put just a tiny amount of green food dye into milk? It doesn't give that strong green color of a lime milkshake. Instead you get a pale, insipid sort of moldy green that looks like ... well ... milk that's gone off in a really bad way.

"Taste it!"

I glanced at Mom doubtfully and then cautiously sipped at the "milk." To my surprise, it tasted like, well, milk! I shrugged at Mom, then put the glass back on the table. "It's okay, I guess!"

Very soon, Tara had milk that was sickly yellow and Dad's milk was a mid-brown. It looked like a glassful of mud and not at all as appetizing as chocolate milk. Then Mom dropped similar colored lumps into our milk. "Marshmallows" was the quick response to my questioning looks. Now the milk looked really off with the weird colors and the unidentifiable lumps floating in it. Mom seemed really proud of the effects.

"Well then, I've cooked more than we need, so don't feel compelled to eat it all. You can start eating while I go fetch Dan, but don't you dare touch that lovely milk until he gets here."

Dad and I cautiously lifted the lids off the food and both of us quietly whistled in awe. Mom had gone to town with the food dye and with the extras. There was a dish of vibrant purple scrambled eggs. Some poached eggs with green streaks through the eggwhite and the yolks were obviously very runny. There were some canned sardines covered with something that could only be described as slime. There was a plate of pancakes of several different colors, none of them natural. There were sausages, bacon and sliced ham — all coated with extra grease. There was a bowl of spaghetti in tomato sauce with extra unidentifiable bluish lumps in it. There was other stuff too, but I forget what.

Dad and I served ourselves with a variety of stuff. Everything I chose, I put some on Tara's plate too. She was basically sitting and staring down at her plate as I gradually filled it up. That part was normal. If she were hungry she'd eat whatever was in front of her, but don't ask her to make a decision at that time of day, it takes forever. The food was surprisingly tasty. Mom sure does go weird on us sometimes, but she is a great cook. I avoided the slimy sardines. They seemed a bit much and they smelt something awful, but Dad tried them and he licked his lips as if he liked them.

I was looking down at my plate, filled with this bizarre spectrum of colored food, most of it doctored to look mouldy. Then my brain did a little hop and skip sideways. Suddenly, instead of looking horrible, my food looked pretty! All the contrasts in color and texture were like a work of art. This was Mom's piece of artwork. Sure it was a bizarre mixture of The Addams Family and that meal the Lost Boys have a food fight with in the Robin Williams version of Peter Pan, but it definitely was art.

Just then Mom almost literally marched Dan into the kitchen and he slumped into his normal chair. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd dragged him at least part of the way by his ear. As Dan walked into the room, I had a sudden flashback to what had happened in the shower last night. My body had a flashback too! There was this tingling between my legs where it remembered pressing against Dan's thigh and I could feel my panties starting to get damp because of ... well, you know why! My brain started to go fizzy like it had last night. Then I realized all this was happening at the breakfast table in front of my family. My face went bright red and I had to drop my head down and let my hair cover my face to hide my embarrassment. I couldn't look at Dan! A rush of fear went right through me that I'd never be able to look my brother in the face again. My favorite person in the whole world, and I'd have to hide from him for the rest of my life. All the fizzy washed straight out of my brain as I tried to absorb the enormity of what I'd done.

I stared down at my plate of breakfast art. I guess fear overcame the embarrassment, because I started trying to peek at Dan out of the corner of my eye, through the curtain of hair hanging over my face. Then I forgot my own problems. Dan looked sick, really sick. I realised I'd had a mouthful of purple scrambled egg all this time and started chewing it as I studied my brother more carefully. He looked terrible. His skin was all pale and clammy, he needed a shave, he had these big dark rings under his eyes and his hair was a complete mess. His nose was all screwed up from the strong cooking smells in the room and his eyes were squinting against the light as he blinked and tried to focus on the multi-colored mess in front of him. Like I said: really, really sick.

It must have seemed like all his senses were being attacked at once, because Mom chose that moment to drop a handful of cooking utensils into the sink with a mighty crash.

"Aaauurgh" said Dan as he slumped further down into his chair and tried to simultaneously cover his eyes, ears and nose with his hands.

I took a mouthful of my moldy green milk; the little green marshmallows were delicious. I watched as Mom enthusiastically slopped greasy bacon and runny eggs onto his plate and half covered them with a dollop of spaghetti with lumps. Then she slid a couple of grayish pancakes onto the other side of his plate, added a dash of orange butter on top and topped that off with a couple of slime covered sardines. Then she threw a handful of Parmesan Cheese across the top. I could smell the cheese from all the way over on my side of the table. It smelt like vomit. I'm not kidding, and I'm an expert on what vomit smells like. I was covered in it last night. Dan turned greener than my milk, let out this strangled, choking sound and then lurched from the table to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.

"Sit down young man. You are NOT yet excused from the table!" No prizes for guessing who that was. Like I said, my mom is evil! She got him back into his seat and started this running patter, encouraging Dan to eat up, explaining that a big young man like him needed to eat a big healthy breakfast to keep up his strength.

I took another mouthful of egg and watched in awe as Mom, through sheer force of will, got Dan to cut a piece of sausage, wincing as his knife screeched and clattered on his plate, and then, in slow motion, speared it with a fork and raised it with a shaking hand to his mouth. I could've sworn his skin was grayer than the pancakes and the way he chewed on the sausage, it looked like it tasted to him like the worst kind of garbage.

I took another sip of moldy-green milk and put my glass back on the table, only realizing as I did so that Dan had watched mesmerised my every movement, his fork frozen halfway back to his plate.

He seemed to try to speak, then tried again, "Bec," he croaked, "what in blazes are you drinking?"

I smiled at him as cheerfully as I could, thinking I was being helpful by being all bright and happy, "It's just milk, Dan, that's all! Do you want to taste?" I held out the half empty glass to him across the table. I was thinking that if he tasted it, and realized it was just milk, he wouldn't be so bothered by the way it looked.

Dan stared first at my smiling face, then at the glass of moldy green milk in my hand, with a sort of fascinated horror. Then he shuddered and closed his eyes, oblivious of the gob of tomato sauce that dripped off his sausage and smeared down the front of his t-shirt. Mom smiled at me with a happy, cheerful sort of smile. I figured I'd made a mistake, but wasn't entirely sure what. I decided to just focus on my plate and concentrate on eating.

Within moments, a weird sort of silence descended on the table. I could hear Angie playing happily in her room, Mom would have fed her earlier so she could concentrate on setting up this little piece of bizarre family theatre. The silence was suddenly broken by Mom using a knife to scrape charcoal off a piece of badly burnt toast. The sharp grating sound seemed to be sending knives into Dan's tortured head. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and realized that she was glaring at Tara and me, her lips pressed firmly together. "Uh oh," I thought, clearly we weren't doing something she wanted us to do. I kept my head down, hoping a tornado would zoom past outside and distract her. Or maybe the phone would ring and it would be someone from the government that had finally got clever and figured out that sic-ing Mom onto the terrorists single-handed, way away on the other side of the world, would be way more effective than the entire armed forces were being.

No tornado!! And everyone in the government stayed stupid! Watching from the corner of my eye, I saw Mom's expression change slightly. She'd decided something. She gripped the table with both hands and her body seemed to do a sudden little twist. For an instant I wondered what she was doing, and then I stopped wondering. Tara had jerked upright with an "OW!" then backhanded me across the chest, hitting me in the exact same spot she'd hit me earlier. The blow hurt, of course, and also caused me to smear tomato sauce across one cheek and drop a lump of spaghetti and chunks down my front.

"HEY! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"

"YOU KICKED ME! YOU LITTLE BRAT!" With that she flailed out with her feet and connected with her shin right into my calf.

"OWW!" I reached out, grabbed a handful of hair and pulled with the hope of turning her head away from me and therefore making it harder for her to hit me or kick me. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. At the same time I was screaming at her that I hadn't kicked her and she was screaming at me to let go of her hair. I didn't waste my time trying to accuse Mom; she had that butter-wouldn't-melt, as-innocent-as-pie look on her face, but her eyes gave her away. Mom's eyes were fixed on Dan and were glinting evilly as he shuddered and held his hands over his ears.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!!" Dad roared over the top of us, which didn't help Dan much — except that we stopped screaming at each other, which I guess did help Dan. I couldn't believe that Mom had just deliberately kicked Tara under the table, just to start us screaming at each other. I couldn't believe I fell for it either, but that whack on the chest really had hurt! "I think breakfast is over!" Dad continued in a more controlled voice. "You girls are excused from the table! Dan, you should..."

"If Dan has finished breakfast," Mom cut in smoothly, "then he has a little chore to do." With that, she guided Dan away from the table into the laundry and shoved a basket full of wet clothes into his arms. "You need to hang out the washing you created last night!" and she pushed him straight out the back door into the bright morning sunshine.

I think I heard Dan cry out in pain as he was pushed out the door, but when I went to check, Mom just hustled me back into the kitchen to help clean up. Tara disappeared into the bathroom and Dad and I cleared the table. We scraped all the extra food into a big garbage bag. I have to say that all that colorful food mixed together in that bag started to look and smell a lot like the vomit I'd been covered with last night. I was starting to feel a bit queasy myself, so I grabbed a glass of water from the tap and gulped it down.

I'd wanted to talk to Mom this morning sometime and I figured I might be able to distract her from attacking Dan, and I wanted to get away from the vomit smell so I decided to give it a shot for all those reasons. Stupid, stupid me! I should have waited for like, hours!

"Ah, Mom?"

"Yes, what?"

"Can I, um, talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, go ahead!" She folded her arms and stood there looking at me.

I looked nervously at Dad and also at Tara who'd walked back into the kitchen just then. "It's kind of private."

"Oh, okay!" She put an arm across my shoulders, led me a total of three steps to the other side of the kitchen and then in a voice only slightly quieter than a foghorn, said "Okay, go ahead."

"Um ... it's really, really private!" I led the way to my bedroom, biting my lip and hoping frantically this would be anything other than completely humiliating. Silly, silly me! Mom followed me into my room and took a seat on my bed. I closed the door and then stood nervously, shifting my weight from foot to foot as I tried to figure out how to start.

"Come on honey, come over here and sit down. Then just start at..." She stopped and stared at me, and not at my face. "Oh! Oh honey, did you start your period?"

"What??" That came out as more of a squeak than a word. I knew all about that stuff of course, Mom and I had had some long chats about periods. Some of the girls in my class had started getting them. Of course I hadn't. This was just another way my body betrayed me every day. Not that I was looking forward to it, but I just wanted to be normal. Bits of my brain started cataloguing all the ways my body betrayed me every day while other bits tried to figure out why Mom would have said that. Mom just pointed at my legs and I looked down. "Oh Sheesh!" There was a red splotch, right on the crotch of my sweatpants. It was obviously tomato sauce and matched with the smear that ran down my shirt, but it looked really, um, obscene! "Eeeeew! That's disgusting!"

I grabbed a tissue and sat next to Mom on the bed trying to dab away the splotch of sauce. I was aware of Mom quietly chortling beside me as I tried to clean myself up. I suddenly realized I was sitting with my legs spread wide apart, touching myself in an intimate place with my Mom watching. My legs slammed shut so fast it hurt my knees. I pulled the bottom of my shirt down and over my lap, effectively hiding the awful stain from view and tried to pretend it wasn't there. Mom was still chuckling to herself. She'd obviously known what it was straight away but couldn't resist having a dig at me. Great start! I hadn't even started what I wanted to say and already I was humiliated. I went to Plan B!

"You know, maybe this was a bad idea. Just forget it."

"Oh come on! We're here in your room. You have something to say. Just say it."

"Don't worry about it. I guess it wasn't that important. Forget it."

I headed for the door, but I froze as Mom's voice snapped out like a whip, "Stop right there, young lady!"

I turned around to face her. She'd stood up from the bed and her expression was ... um ... I don't know! I couldn't figure out what she was thinking, but she seemed to be searching my face for clues about something. Then her face went a bit more gentle and so did her voice, "Come here, honey!"

I took a couple of steps towards her and stopped. At the same time she'd started walking towards me, but she didn't stop. She came right up to me and hugged me. I didn't resist, but I didn't hug her back. I just stood there and let it happen. It wasn't really a warm hug, but it was more than I was expecting. Mom released me and stepped back. She took both my hands in hers and looked straight into my eyes. "I always thought we could talk about anything. I want you to tell me what's troubling you. I need you to do it now. I'm not trying to pressure you, but I have other things I want to do this morning, so if you aren't ready to say anything, I'll go and we'll talk another time."

Okay, maybe Plan C is called for. "Um, I need to tell you that there's..." I took a big breath. "There's something's going on with my body. I'm not sure, but it might be something bad, in which case I've got a bad problem, or it might be something good, in which case, something's wrong and I've got a strange problem."

"You're not making a lot of sense honey. Maybe you should start at the beginning."

"Start at the beginning! Okay." I took another big breath. "Do you remember at school for health class, we got divided into girls and boys and us girls had classes with Mrs Hennessey about ... um ... puberty and stuff?"

"Go on."

"Well we were talking about ... breasts, and talking about problems, and Hannah Fargo pointed at me and said how one problem is not having any and she laughed at me and other girls were laughing at me too, because I'm the only one in the class who's completely flat, so I wanted to change the subject, so I asked about breast cancer, because, you know, because of Nana, but I didn't mention her, I just asked about breast cancer and it turned out most of the girls knew someone who'd had it, so I said I knew someone who had it, then Hannah Fargo pointed at me again and said that's one problem I'll never have 'cause I don't have breasts, and Mrs Hennessey got all cut and told her off and said it was a serious topic and explained how all women had to do self exams and she showed us how to do that and she said that should be our homework; that we should stand in front of a mirror and do a self exam, then Hannah Fargo put her hand up and said she was really worried about me because I wouldn't be able to do the homework, then she turned and looked at me and held her breasts up with her hands, and you know how hers are about twice as big as anyone else in class, well she held them up with her hands and said I could feel up her titties for homework if I wanted, but first I'd have to lick her pu..."

At that point that little part of my brain that checks what I'm saying figured out what word I was about to say to my mom and my mouth snapped shut. During this time, somehow, Mom had seated us back on the bed. I had to turn my head to look at her, worried that I'd said something I shouldn't say. My cheeks were wet and I realized I'd been crying a bit as I re-lived the humiliation of that day. I also realized that for once she'd let my motor-mouth run instead of stopping me with some wisecrack half-way through. I still worried that I'd said a bad word so I was still trying to look at her face. She hugged me to her, which made it hard to look at her face, which I guess was a sort of message about that, I hoped it was anyway.

"She said that, did she?" I nodded against her shoulder. "I hope Mrs Hennessey had something to say about it."

"Oh yes, Hannah got sent to the Principal and got detentions and stuff, but I hate that she was making fun of me, and why did she have to say those things, and why can't I just have a normal body like everyone else, and why would she say I should do that to her? I mean, who would do that? I mean, lick someone like that ... down there. That's disgusting."

Mom squeezed me to her and whispered something. I kind of froze and ran it through my brain twice to make sure I'd heard it right, then I guess I zoned out while all the different bits of my brain tried to process it. Mom had whispered, "Don't knock it 'til you try it, sweetheart!" Inside my brain things were going round and round in circles so much I started to feel dizzy. She'd said it so quietly — I don't think she'd meant me to hear.

"You know, if you just got over this silly obsession you have about your body, the things these girls say to you wouldn't hurt nearly as much and you wouldn't get so upset. You have to believe you are a pretty girl, and you are growing into a beautiful woman."

It took a moment for what she'd said to seep into my poor confused brain. Then I kind of went, "Huh?" to myself. Well, parts of my brain went "Huh?" Other parts were still trying to sort out her previous comment. I mean what kind of weird, twisted logic was that? I ignored the second bit for the meaningless drivel it was. I mean every parent probably says it to their kid. It must be in The Parent Manual or something to say their child is beautiful, regardless of how they really look. But the first part was just stupid. I mean I don't have any silly obsession. I know my body is ugly, that's a fact. That wasn't something I could just "Get Over"!

I was still trying to sort out all the things she'd said, when Mom stood up. "Well now, don't you feel better having got all that off your chest ... er I mean now that you've got that out of your system. I'm glad we had this little chat. Now I have to talk some more to your no-good brother."

"But wait! That's not ... That wasn't it!"

"What?"

"That was the beginning. You told me to start at the beginning. That was the beginning."

"Oh, er, well, get on with it!"

I guess I was getting cross with Mom's cold attitude. I mean, she's not normally like that. I've had really good talks with Mom about stuff and normally she's like, amazingly cool, but this morning she was just half listening to me and mostly obsessed with getting stuck into Dan. And that was another thing! Dan had gotten drunk before and Mom had never gone off like this. It was bizarre. It was a complete over-reaction. So I was getting cross on Dan's behalf too. So I maybe said the next thing a bit badly. But it was worrying me and I had to say it, so I said it.

"I think I might have cancer!"

"WHAT???!"

"Either that, or I've started growing boobs, and it's all gone wrong."

"WHAT??!" The first time had been a kind of horrified yell. This time it was more of a strangled scream.

I think I finally had Mom's full attention, and what did I do with it? I burst into tears. Mom grabbed me by the arms and shook me, hard!

"Stop that! Explain what this is about."

I dragged my sleeve across my eyes to try to dry my face, but that didn't work so I just talked through the tears.

"Mrs Hennessey, sniff, said that women who had breast cancer, sniff, well their family should be even more careful about checking because there was an, sniff, an increased likelihood, that they'd get it too. And because of Nana, that would mean you and me and Tara and even Angie would be more likely to get it and I got kind of freaked. Then I remembered Mrs Hennessey said if it was found early enough, then people are usually okay and that's why women needed to do self exams. Well my chest has been kind of sore for a little while, and this morning I remembered what she said, and I was feeling my chest, and I found this lump under my left nipple, and I thought, oh now maybe I'm growing boobs, so I felt my right nipple but there wasn't anything there, so I thought that was weird, then I got really worried, because that meant either I had a lump and I have cancer, or I'm growing one boob. One boob, Mom! I'm going to go from being the freak with no boobs, to the freak with one boob."

I was pretty well sobbing continuously by this stage, and so I hardly noticed that while I was talking, Mom had undone the buttons on my shirt and opened it up so she could look at my chest. The first time I noticed what she'd done was when I felt her hand run lightly over my left nipple and its "lump". I kind of squeaked and tried to push her hands away, but she just shrugged me off and kept exploring with her fingers.

A little bit at the back of my brain started laughing hysterically at how in the last twelve hours I'd touched my first penis and had my first someone grope my all-new one-and-only boob and both times it had been a member of my family. Other bits of my brain told it to shut up. That bit started to wonder how many other "firsts" my family was going to claim. Naturally I was glowing bright red by now, all the way from the top of my head down to my toes. I'm not sure if it was because my mom was feeling me up like she was checking to see if a piece of fruit was ripe, or because of the thoughts going on in the back of my head.

All the bits of my brain had a vote and decided to shut down completely.

Next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor, blinking up at Mom. She was glaring crossly down at me. "Get up from there. I don't have time for this!" She hauled me back up to sit beside her on the bed. Then she resumed prodding me as if nothing had happened. Most of my brain was still shut down so I had little choice but to sit there and let it happen.

"Well, it looks to me like your body is giving you boobs for your thirteenth birthday. Your so-called lump is called a "breast-bud." See how it's all soft and puffy, that's normal."

"One boob, Mom. I'm getting a boob, not boobs. And anyway, it looks more like a mosquito bite than a proper breast."

"Give it a chance, honey. It'll happen." Then she kissed my cheek and hugged me to her. Her dress felt weird against my naked chest. "My number two little girl is turning into a woman." Then she released me from the hug and stood up. "Now you need to change your clothes, wash your face and come out and join the family. I won't have you skulking in here today."

Then she grabbed both my arms and shook me, again, but not as hard this time. "And don't you dare ever scare me like that again! Breast cancer indeed! It was bad enough with my momma, but to have my little girl say that to me ... Arrrgh!"

She went to the door, then stopped and turned back to me. "Rebecca Louise Freeman, you got all upset about this, because of this stupid thing you have in your head about the way you look. It's nonsense." I stared at her, stunned. Gentle Mom was gone and Evil Mom was back. "If you don't get over this, I swear I'll put you over my knee and spank you. I won't have you scaring me like that again, do you hear me?" Then she swept out the door and slammed the door behind her.

I sat on my bed, blinking. Is everyone's mother crazy, or is it just mine? Then I realized that I really had scared Mom badly. I was so caught up with my own little crisis that I hadn't taken her feelings into account. The time when Nana, her mother, was sick had been horrible. I mean really horrible. Mom had taken it badly, but had still managed to hold our family together and keep us all functioning. Tara and I had both been really upset by Nana being sick and Mom had held us as we cried. Mom had spent a lot of time on her own in the bedroom. She'd done some weird sad sort of things too. Did Mom cry? Did someone hold her? Dad would have surely. Wouldn't he?

It hadn't really been Evil Mom walking out the door. It had been Scared Mom, trying to get herself back under control. This was a revelation to me. Maybe I should ignore the hurtful, uncaring words she'd said and try to read between the lines, or at least listen between the lines, to find the things she meant, but wasn't saying.

I was a very thoughtful Bec as I changed into some clean jeans and a t-shirt, then went to the bathroom to wash my face and do other necessary bathroom stuff.

When I got to the kitchen, the table was cleared and cleaned, the dishwasher was chugging away, Mom and Dad were sipping at cups of tea. Tara was trying to manage a glass of juice while Angie played on her lap. Dan was nursing a glass of juice and, I should add, looking a lot better than he had at breakfast. I went to the fridge, poured myself some juice and slid back into my normal seat at the table. Mom was scowling at her tea as if it was responsible for whatever problem she had.

We were all pretty quiet and it was starting to feel like a normal Sunday morning with some idle chitchat as we sat around and relaxed after breakfast. Then I looked again at Mom. She was brooding about Dan. I could just tell, even though she was just sipping her tea and staring at the wall. This was definitely Evil Mom planning something. I sat there, trying to be quiet and not get noticed. Tara and Dad were chatting about watching a baseball game on TV in the afternoon. It didn't interest me; basketball is my thing. I play some at school and I watch it on TV when I can. Tara does swimming and track but watches baseball. Dan plays football with his school. Neither Tara or I like football that much but we both go to see Dan play as much as we can — me more than Tara. I'm Dan's number one fan!

Then Tara opened her big mouth. "I have a question. Why is Dan in trouble? He's been drunk before and he never got hassled like this. I mean, sure he got drunk. But he didn't do anything stupid like trying to drive or anything."

Dad cleared his throat, "Hmm, yes well. I think we'd both prefer it if Dan didn't get drunk, in fact we'd prefer it if he didn't drink. In this state it's not exactly legal at his age and I'd hate for him to end up in trouble with the law. It's a law I don't agree with by the way. The laws here say that when he turned eighteen, he became an adult. As an adult he has the right to sign contracts, to marry, to do any number of things. It's absurd to have a law that says all adults are responsible for all those things, but we'll bar some adults from drinking. I'm not even entirely convinced it's constitutional. Some of the laws in this country are just plain confusing. At least back home, I knew what was legal and what wasn't."

"Um Dad, I was asking about Dan."

"Oh, yes, well, er ... this isn't so much about Dan being drunk as it is about..."

Mom didn't seem to want to have a rational discussion. I was watching out of the corner of my eye as she got restless, then decided to intervene.

"Peter," she cut in (that's Dad by the way), "get your car keys." She stood up beside her chair. "I think what we need is a little family drive. And while we're out, we can all visit the shops. Won't it be fun for all of us? We can go together to buy our little Rebecca her first bra!"

It took me a second to register what she'd said, and then I stood up so fast my chair fell over behind me. I went through surprise that she'd said that to humiliation that she'd said that in front of my whole family. I was furious. I opened my mouth to scream at her, then hesitated as I saw the satisfied look in her face and the way her hand was pressing down on Dan's shoulder, holding him in place.

Tara didn't hesitate. She was screeching at Mom about how thoughtless it was to say that and how Mom knew how shy I was and how could she deliberately embarrass me like that. Angie started screaming too, because Tara was holding Angie in her arms and screeching in her ear. Even Dad launched in to yelling at Mom. Dan had his head down on the table, his hands pressed frantically over his ears, groaning in pain. Only little bits of my brain were noticing all that. Most of my brain was filled with fury, not just because she'd so blatantly tried to humiliate me, but also because for the second time this morning she'd deliberately started a screaming match just to cause Dan pain. Make that three times. Mom had also deliberately sent me in to wake Tara up hoping for us to end up screaming at each other.

Then I looked at her eyes. My mouth closed. My body was still rigid with fury but a cold empty space started growing deep inside me. This wasn't Evil Mom. The eyes were cold and empty. This wasn't Mom at all. This was some crazed predator out hunting for prey. I turned and forced myself to walk out of the kitchen, leaving the yelling behind. Bits of my brain were yelling at me to run, to flee as fast as I could. The loudest voices in my head were saying it's safer to walk away, not to make any sudden moves.

My body trembling with reaction, I made it to my bedroom and closed the door quietly but firmly behind me. Everything inside me was clamoring for me to hide, to crawl inside some small, dark hole somewhere and cower in fear. My body shaking, I made my way to my closet, crawled inside beneath the hanging clothes and pulled the door shut behind me. I sat hugging my knees to my chest. A line of light from underneath the door made silhouettes of the junk scattered on the closet floor. I reached up and pulled my heavy winter coat off its hanger. I draped it over my head, plunging myself into a warm, cloying darkness.

In the dark I cried silent tears. I cried for my brother's undeserved pain. I cried for my future, tormented by everyone as "The Girl With One Boob." I cried for the loss of the innocent love I'd had for my brother, washed away in one soapy shower. But most of all I cried for the loss of my mother. I had no doubt she was gone. She'd been replaced by that monster wearing her face, standing in the kitchen, smiling in delight as her family dissolved in chaos around her.

That cold black hole inside me had grown. It had started where my heart had used to be. Now it had grown to occupy my entire body. There was no room left for feelings. There was no room left for tears. There was only emptiness.

All the bits of my brain had been swirling around in confusion.

Now there was no room left for them in my head.

They shattered into fragments and fell away into the darkness.



-------

Chapter 4 : Sunday Afternoon

To have your hair stroked, slowly and gently, has to be one of the nicest feelings in the world. My hair was being stroked. And since my hair is long, the hand was stroking from the top of my head, all the way down my spine. Having a big, strong hand run gently down your spine, over and over is also really nice. Hmmm! A big, strong hand. It could only be Dan. It was dark, really dark. If it hadn't been so dark, I might have been tempted to turn and look. Instead, I just sighed and nestled down into the lap I was curled up on. Ah Dan!

My cheek was pressed against the muscles of his chest. I sighed again and moved my cheek back and forth a bit, revelling in the sensation of the material of his t-shirt brushing against the side of my mouth, the skin of my cheek, my eyelid. Wait! My eyelid! That meant my eyes were closed. I tentatively opened one eye and peered around. It wasn't so dark after all.

It took me a moment to figure things out. We were in my room, in my closet. Daylight shone dimly through the closed curtains. The doors of my closet were wide open and Dan was sitting on the floor of the closet, leaning against the back wall with his legs extending out into the room. I was curled up on his lap, with one eye closed and one of Dan's arms wrapped securely around me. The other hand was gently stroking my hair and my back. Yep, definitely one of the nicest feelings in the world.

I felt his body shift slightly, and then I felt him gently kiss the top of my head. "Welcome back, princess," he whispered, his voice soft and gentle as if he were trying not to frighten a nervous animal. Maybe he was.

I wanted to acknowledge him. I wanted to let him know that I'd heard him talking to me and felt him holding me. I wanted to make some great, inspiring thank-you speech. All I could come up with though was, "We're sitting in my closet!"

Somehow I sensed that he smiled at that. "Well technically, I'm only half in your closet. It seems I'm way too big to sit in your closet, especially with you in here as well."

"Obviously I need a bigger closet. I'll have to ask my sweet big brother to build me a new one."

He chuckled, "I'll get right on that!" His chuckle had done interesting things to his chest and stomach where I was leaning against him. With my ear against his chest, I could swear I heard the sound of his laughter echoing around inside of him.

I clutched tightly to the arm wrapped around me, holding it in place. "There's no hurry. Let's just stay here for a while. At least we should stay here until..."

Up until this point, the only parts of my brain that had been operating were the bits that were enjoying the moment; the sensations of being held and stroked, the joy of having a light, meaningless conversation with my favorite person in the whole world. It wasn't until I asked myself how long we should stay there, that led me to think about why I was there in the first place, that led me to remember what had happened at breakfast.

I guess I went from super relaxed to super tense in one second. I squirmed around to sit upright on Dan's lap. I must have elbowed something sensitive because I vaguely heard him swallow a sudden gasp. Dan hushed me and made soothing noises. The arm wrapped around me became as solid as steel, holding me in place. With his other hand, Dan grasped me around the back of my neck and firmly guided my head back onto his chest, then he resumed stroking me and softly talking to me, but I've no idea what he was saying.

I resisted being held like that for a moment, but then my body gave up and I collapsed into him like a rag doll. My body collapsed, but my brain was racing around in circles like roaring tornado. With my ear pressed against his chest I was hearing two heartbeats, one slow and steady, the other racing out of control. That was me! I could hear and feel my own heart pattering along at about a thousand beats per minute. Finally I managed to reconnect my voice and let out the single question that was whirling around my head.

"Why did she do that to me?"

Dan sighed. He stopped stroking my hair and reached that arm around to circle me also, so now I was wrapped in both his arms, and then he squeezed me tight into his chest. Not so tight that I couldn't breathe, but tight enough for me to be in no doubt that I was being held. He kissed the top of my head again and when he spoke, he had that gentle, careful tone in his voice again.

"Dad wants to talk to you about that. Mom didn't mean to hurt you. Dad wants to explain some things to you about Mom, about this morning. They've both gone out for a bit, but they'll be back soon. When they come back, Dad wants to talk to you and Tara."

"Do you know what he's going to say? Just tell me what it is. I don't think I want to listen to one of Dad's talks right now."

"I know about it. Please trust me. This will be better if Dad explains it. Until then, see if you can put all that aside for a while. I know how your brain works. I want you to press the pause button on everything to do with Mom. Can you do that for me?"

"But she humiliated me! If Tara or I did something like that to each other, we'd be getting punished right now, something fierce."

"Pause button!"

"Okay, I'll try!" I didn't want to, but I rarely refused to do anything Dan asked of me. I closed my eyes, and tried look inside my brain. All those thoughts racing around in my head, I herded into a back corner of my brain and put a fence around them. It wasn't a strong fence. They yelled out and reached through the fence, trying to grab me, but they were stuck there for a while. It didn't leave a lot of room in my head for the rest of me to operate, there were a lot of thoughts fenced up back there, but I was trying to do what Dan wanted.

He must have sensed something, because he started talking again. "Are you hungry? You missed lunch."

"I did? Wow! I'm not really hungry. I guess I could grab a piece of fruit."

"You didn't miss much. It wasn't that exciting. No one was talking to each other. Tara's furious with Mom and Dad. I think Mom's embarrassed that she went too far. My head's still a bit fragile."

"Really? You? Why?"

"Because of my hangover. Because I drank too much last night."

"Last night, oh!" Then I remembered last night, "Last night, OH!" I squirmed and wriggled and slapped at Dan's arms. "Let me go! Let me go!" He released me and I scrambled out of his lap, across the floor and put my back against the opposite wall of my room.

"What?" Dan was obviously puzzled.

"How could you hold me like that? Why would you want to touch me at all? Why would you want to be with me at all, after what I did to you last night?" I was almost sobbing. I slid down the wall to sit on the floor, back against the wall.

"Er, Bec, sweetie, I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I really don't remember much about last night at all. What happened last night that upset you?"

"You don't remember? Oh shit! Oh Dan, I'm sorry. I didn't ... I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry!" Now I was crying.

"Bec, maybe if you tell me what happened, I can help you."

"Well, you were really drunk, I mean really, really drunk, and you were all messy so you needed a shower, and you were staggering all over, so we had to get in the shower with you and hold you up, and, and, and I touched your ... I touched your ... penis. I'm sorry Dan. I shouldn't have done it. Now you probably think I'm terrible. I'm disgusting. You must hate me. Oh don't look at me like that, I'm so ashamed! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

By this time, I was covering my face with my hands and sobbing into them. I didn't even dare think about the other thing I had done in the shower, let alone say it. The thing I had done to myself, pushing myself against his leg. The shame and humiliation overwhelmed me and I just kept sobbing. A little part of my brain noticed that I seemed to be doing a lot of crying today.

Somewhere in the distance, from the other side of the room, I heard a low chuckle and a soft "Is that all?"

My brain went "Huh?!" I peeped across at Dan through my fingers. I guess my face went "Huh?!" too.

"You say you touched my penis last night. I don't remember it, but I'll take your word for it. I don't see what you're so upset about though, it's not the first time you've done that."

"WHAT?!! I never... !"

"Yeah, you have. Hold on."

Dan suddenly started struggling and wriggling. I figured out that he was actually stuck in my closet. I guess I kind of giggled at that. Finally he managed to fight his way out of the closet, through layers of my hanging clothes. A voice in the back of my brain wanted to make a joke about Dan coming out of the closet, but I never understood the connection between someone being gay and being in a closet, so the joke didn't make sense, so I kept my mouth shut. Besides, I wasn't really in the mood for making jokes with Dan. I was still trying to sort out what he meant about me having touched him before. I was positive I'd never done anything like that to anyone before last night.

Dan made his way across the room and sat down on the floor beside me, putting his back against the wall and wrapping one arm across my shoulders. With his other hand, he brushed my hands away from my face and then used one large, strong finger under my chin to lift up my head and turn it until I was looking directly into Dan's face. His face was gentle and calm. In the dim light of the room, the pupils of his eyes were wide open, nearly occupying the whole of the brown part of his eyes. This made his eyes look like bottomless wells that I could easily fall into and never re-surface. He stared into my eyes for a moment. I had no choice but to stare back, hypnotized by his steady gaze. Then he spoke, and his voice wrapped around me like a blanket, filled with sincerity and love.

"Bec, I love you. I love you unconditionally. That means there is nothing that you could do that would stop me from loving you. There is nothing that you could do that would disgust me. Sure, I would prefer it if you didn't touch me like that but..."

I turned my face away from him at that, breaking out of his grip. He simply used his finger under my chin to pull my face back towards him. I didn't have the strength to resist, as much as I wanted to.

" ... but since it did happen, I don't hate you. It doesn't disgust me. I still love you. Which is just as well, because if that was all it took to hate you, I would have been hating you for a long time. Like I said, last night wasn't even close to the first time you've touched me like that."

"But I never..."

"You probably don't remember, but we used to have baths together all the time, you, me and Tara."

"I ... don't ... I remember having baths with Tara, but I don't remember you being in the bath too."

"I think I stopped bathing with you girls when I was about eleven so you must have only been about four. You two kept having baths together for years after that."

"Are you saying that when we bathed together that I touched your..."

"Yeah! All the time. No not every time, but often. You seemed fascinated by it. At first you'd just grab it, and then you started playing with it. Sometimes you washed it for me. Tara liked to do that too, but not as often. At first it was really embarrassing for me. I spoke to Mom about it and she laughed. She said it was just natural curiosity and you'd get bored sooner or later. She said as long as I didn't force you to touch it there was no harm in it. I never forced you by the way, but you never seemed to get bored with it either."

"That's really embarrassing. You mean I just sat in the bath and played with your ... thing?"

"Not all the time. We had toys to play with and bubbles to blow and we washed ourselves and sometimes each other. There was always a lot of splashing involved. I loved bath time with you two, it was heaps of fun. Of course, I couldn't admit that at the time. Ten year old boys just don't admit to enjoying a bath with their little sisters. I would have been teased mercilessly. But I hated it when I had to stop."

"Why did you have to stop?"

"Dad came into the bathroom one time and Tara was washing my back, and you were washing my dick. He turned and walked out and later that night he told me it was time I started having showers and let you two have a bath on your own. That's the only time I've ever known Dad to go in the bathroom when either of you were having a bath. You know what Dad's like. He so totally respects our privacy that he just never goes near the bathroom when any of us are in there. He's always been like that. I've got no idea why he went in there that day." He shrugged.

"Anyway, that's what happened! So, no more bath time for me. Anyway, like I said, you touching me last night wasn't the first time. You've always been curious. If I'd been with it, I probably would have stopped you. If you ask me to let you touch me again, I'll say no. But I don't hate you. It's probably mostly my fault anyway for getting so drunk that I couldn't wash myself. I should never have put either of you in a position where you had to wash me."

I didn't have anything to say to that, so I didn't say anything. I still had no memory of being in a bath with Dan so I wasn't completely convinced that anything I did back then should count. I guess I felt a bit better, though, about that stuff in the shower. Well, a bit better anyway. Dan used the arm over his shoulder to squeeze me against him. I laid my head against his chest and let it happen.

"You know, if you have questions about any stuff like that, you know, questions about boys, questions about sex, I promise I will answer them as well as I can. Mom and Tara will probably tell you a lot, but there's stuff about boys you might be curious about and I really can't imagine Dad telling it to you."

I leaned against Dan's chest and ran through a list in my head of questions I had about stuff. There were a couple of things but mostly stuff I would rather die than ask Dan about. You know, things like when Mom was talking about licking ... and things like how was I supposed to cope with being the girl with one boob. I wasn't ready to talk to anybody about that yet. Not after this morning. So I just filed that list away in the back of my head and closed my eyes.

I said nothing.

Dan tilted his head back against the wall and shut his eyes with a quiet sigh. I couldn't see him do that but I kind of knew that was what he did.

I said nothing.

After a bit, I felt Dan stir, "Bec, sweetie, just between you and me, my head is still hurting and I'm really enjoying just sitting here, but I know you, and when you go quiet for a long time, it means that busy head of yours is going buzz, buzz, buzz with half a million thoughts. I'm a bit afraid of where those thoughts will take you if I let you keep that going right now. So tell me, Bec, what's going on in that busy little head of yours?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. I pressed the pause button remember? It took a while to kick in, but now it has, so I'm just ... not thinking!"

"Ah! I like that. Let's just do that for a while."

So my brother and I sat on the floor of my darkened room, holding each other.

Not talking.

Not thinking.

Just sitting.



-------

Chapter 5 : Sunday Evening



"Are you guys asleep in here?"

I blinked my eyes against the sudden light. Tara was silhouetted in the doorway. She was wearing stretch jeans and a tight-fitting yellow top, so her silhouette exaggerated her feminine curves, all those curves that she had and I didn't. I swallowed a brief surge of jealousy and took notice of where I was. Dan was sitting on the floor of my room, his back against the wall, his legs stretched out straight in front of him, his eyes squinting against the light. Maybe he had been asleep. I had started off sitting on the floor next to him, but by the time Tara opened the door, I had slipped down and draped myself over his lap. I hadn't been asleep.

Well, maybe a bit!

I sat up, and then pushed myself up the wall to get to my feet. "Nah! We were just chatting."

"Dad's in the living room. He wants to talk to us."

"What about?"

"Dunno!"

"Where's Mom?"

"She went straight into their bedroom as soon as they got home."

"Did she say anything?"

"Nah! She just walked straight in and closed the door."

"Good! I hate her! I don't want to talk to her!"

"Bec, please don't talk like that." That was Dan, still squinting in the light. "Let's just go listen to what Dad has to say."

He struggled to get himself up, but his legs had gone to sleep. I reached down and offered him my hand, as if that would help. I mean, he's twice my size, maybe more. Tara stepped into the room and held out her hand as well. Between the two of us, we managed to get Dan onto his feet.

"You know what he wants to tell us, don't you?" Tara wanted to know.

"More or less."

"Is it terrible?"

Tara's usually confident voice sounded different. Looking at her face, I saw that she was really worried. For the first time it occurred to me that maybe Dad was going to tell us that something was terribly wrong with Mom. I flashed back to the days and weeks and months when Nana was sick with cancer and I started to panic.

"Dan? Is Mom sick? Has she got cancer too?"

You might think right now that I'd start crying again, but that didn't happen. Maybe I was cried out. What did happen was I felt this cold rush of fear sweep through me, leaving me empty, hollow. The hands that I used to clutch onto Dan's arm were trembling.

"No, she doesn't have cancer. It's not like that. Please, let's go talk to Dad."

Dan obviously knew what was going on. He said it wasn't cancer and I trusted him. But there was obviously something wrong, something important. Tara was clutching onto Dan's other arm. Her face had gone white when I mentioned cancer. When Dan said no, her eyes showed a bit of relief but not much. Maybe I felt the same way, I don't know. I couldn't really tell you what I was feeling. Like I said, I was hollow and empty — no feelings!

With the two of us clinging to Dan like limpets, he steered us into the living room. Dad was sitting in his usual chair holding one of Angie's drawings while Angie perched on the arm of the chair and explained the drawing to him. Like most of Angie's explanations, it wasn't making a whole lot of sense, but Dad was making all the right noises, despite the distracted look on his face.

Dan seated himself on the middle of the couch. I sat down next to him, with my side pressed firmly against his. I wrapped one of his arms around me, clutching onto his hand with my arm, as if maintaining as close contact as possible would protect me from whatever was about to happen. Tara sat herself on his lap, her back against his chest, her legs draped over his, and held his other arm protectively across her tummy. I silently cursed myself for not claiming his lap for myself. But then again, I'd had Dan with me for ages, maybe it was her turn. I reached out my spare hand and clutched hers, letting our fingers twine together. This left my forearm resting on her denim clad thigh. I don't think the three of us could have been joined more closely together if we tried. I felt Tara's hand squeeze mine and I squeezed it back.

Angie's story finished, and Dad managed to get her to play with some Legos on the floor. He looked over at us and frowned slightly. I realised he was a bit nervous. He cleared his throat a bit, then put on a really forced grin and a forced cheerful voice and said, "Well, I guess you're all wondering why I've gathered you here tonight!"

I think he was quoting from some stupid old movie. I think he was trying to be funny. I didn't laugh. Tara didn't laugh. Dan didn't laugh, but he did sigh in frustration.

"Dad, the girls are a bit freaked. You really need to just explain what's going on."

"Ah! Yes! Well! I guess you noticed that Mom was a bit more, er, intense than usual this morning. Well that's not the first time she's been like that. In fact, she's been having little episodes like that virtually all of her life."

"What are you saying, Dad?" I forget who asked that, it might have been Tara, it might have been me. If I didn't ask, I was certainly going to.

"I'm saying that for most of her life, your mom has had episodes where for a short time she becomes totally obsessive to the point of er ... mania. During these episodes, she finds it hard to manage er ... she finds it hard to see how what she is doing affects the big picture."

"Mania? Are you saying Mom goes mental? Is she crazy?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have said mania! Some doctors have described this as a mental condition called Lambrecht's Syndrome. Your mom's not crazy the way most people use that word. She doesn't hear voices in her head. She doesn't see things that aren't there. She doesn't believe things are happening that aren't. She's not depressed.

"Most of the time your mom functions normally. Just every so often she gets into this state of mind where she finds it hard to tell the difference between what is important and what isn't. A major episode usually lasts anything up to three or four days. Then she goes back to normal."

"How come we're only finding out about this now? If Mom has had this thing, this mental illness thing all her life, how come you're only telling us now?"

"The major episodes don't happen that often. The last one was last November. It was pretty mild and your mom just locked herself in her studio and painted for three days. It didn't seem to worry either of you at the time, so we didn't say anything. The one before that was two summers ago when you were both away at camp. The time before that we thought you were too young to understand what was going on. We just sent you to stay with your grandmother. You both thought it was a great holiday."

"I remember that week," I said with surprise. I always wondered why we suddenly got to stay with Nana for a week.

"I remember a few sudden trips like that," said Tara with a bit of a scowl. "You should have just told us and not sent us away!"

"Maybe you're right! Maybe we should have told you right from the start. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"What about this time?"

"Usually I can pick the start of an episode during the day before it starts, she usually kind of builds up to it. If there were any signs this time around, I missed them. I didn't know anything about it until this morning at breakfast and she'd well and truly started by then."

"Ah Dad," this was Tara. "No offense, but breakfast this morning wasn't that unusual for us. I mean, we never had a breakfast like that before, but none of us were exactly surprised. You two are always pulling stunts like that."

"Yeah!" I added. Okay, it wasn't a brilliant comment but I felt like Tara needed backing up. "Our friends who know about some of the things you do think our whole family is weird. Not bad weird, just weird weird."

Dad sighed and nodded. "Neither your mom nor I had what most people would call a normal childhood. Partly because of that we have some different ideas about parenting than most people. So like you said, we often pull stunts like this morning at breakfast. But your mom went way beyond what the two of us had decided on for this morning. As far as I could tell, she deliberately stirred you two up two or three times, just so you would start screaming at each other. She also deliberately humiliated you, Bec, to get the same effect. She wasn't thinking about the impact on you when she did it. Normally she would never have done that just to get at Dan. That's what I mean about her not seeing the big picture."

"Potty!" Apparently Angie had decided to join the conversation. I kind of agreed with her.

"I wanna go potty!" Oh! Okay, so I was distracted, I didn't get it at first.

As soon as we figured out what Angie was saying, Tara and I jumped up and led Angie to the bathroom. This amazing, life changing conversation we were having about Mom having a mental illness and going stark raving bonkers every so often (well okay, it wasn't as bad as that) got put on hold while we took Angie to the toilet. All the time, of course, we were both praising her for being so clever as to tell us she wanted to go potty. Then when she was done, while we cleaned her up, we had to praise her some more for putting her poo in the potty and ... well you get the picture. Neither of us had anything to say to each other about The Talk!

When we brought Angie back to the living room, Dan and Dad hadn't moved. They probably hadn't even said word to each other either. They might have, but I doubted it. We told them what Angie had done and they both praised her for how clever she was. Funny how having a three year old around means family discussions can quickly become all about poo.

Angie climbed up onto Dan's lap and started tracing the patterns on his t-shirt with her fingers. Since she was quiet like that, we left her there and Tara and I sat down beside each other on the low coffee table near Dad to continue our conversation.

"How did all this start?" Tara wanted to know.

"We think she's always had this. Apparently it became really noticeable when your mom reached adolescence. She became fairly unpredictable. She'd be normal for a while then get really over-the-top obsessed about something. Her mother, your nana, thought she was just being a teenager but her father didn't think so and had her committed."

"You mean he put her in a mental home?" I asked.

"That's right! She spent quite a lot of time in those places as a teenager. Her parents apparently fought about it all the time. That's probably a lot of the reason they ended up separating. Eventually your nana pulled her out of there and threw all the drugs away. They'd kept her pretty well doped up in the hospital and your mom hated it. Ever since then, your mom refuses to take medication. She says it makes her feel fuzzy.

"Your nana had to go to court to keep her out of institutions. Apparently there were doctors arguing that Lambrecht's Syndrome didn't exist and it was just at the extreme end of normal behaviour. Your nana used some of those doctors to get custody of your mom and permission to keep her at home. Since then, everyone has simply handled your mom's episodes when they happen. She has taken some medication a few times if the episode is severe and she can't afford to make mistakes, but she hates it because, as I said before, it makes her fuzzy."

Dad fell silent and I took a moment to let the stuff process through my mind. This was pretty big. Not as big as Tara and I had feared, but still pretty big. One question occurred to me pretty quickly. "Dad, where is Mom now? Why isn't she here helping explain all this?"

"Your mom was pretty distressed when she realized what she'd said to you. I said she gets a bit obsessive. Now she's obsessing about how she's a bad mother. We went out to get a new prescription of her medication and some sedatives. She's taken some and is lying in bed right now trying to figure out how to make it up to you."

Tara and I glanced at each other, and then together we stood up and walked straight towards our parents' room. Dad looked a bit startled, I think he expected us to talk some more, then he got up and followed us. Dan, with a wriggling Angie on his lap, just gave us a wave and kept playing with Angie, who seemed to be trying to turn her top inside out without actually taking it off.

We walked straight into Mom and Dad's room and, without hesitating, crawled up to sit on the bed beside Mom. Dad followed us into the room and quietly sat on a chair beside the dresser to watch. Mom was stretched out on the bed in her shift. Her eyes were a bit puffy and red from crying. They were also a bit dull and lifeless. She turned her head to look at me, and her movements were all slow and sluggish. Mom usually had so much energy. If this was what the drugs did to her, then I hated them too.

Mom tried to hug me and started saying over and over again how sorry she was, but I stopped her. I told her to stop being silly and how what she said hadn't been all that bad. She kept saying she was a bad mother to have upset me like that. I told her that was silly and I'd just over-reacted. This went on for ages and maybe about the fifth time I said it, I started to believe what I was saying. Maybe I really had over-reacted. Sure, she'd pointed out to my family that I was getting boobs. But I mean, they were my family, none of them were going to try to embarrass me about that, except maybe Tara, and she was perfectly capable of spotting stuff like that and giving me a hard time without needing Mom's help.

This was all going on in the back of my brain as I tried to reassure Mom that she really was a good mother. Tara joined in and we talked about all the stuff she did for us. It was a bit weird really. It was usually Mom reassuring one of us when we got upset, and here we were being the "parents" and trying to make her feel good about herself.

In the end, I don't think we convinced her that she wasn't a bad mom, but she did accept that she did some good things. We did convince her to stop taking the medication because we didn't want her to be all fuzzy and that we could cope with whatever consequences came from that. She seemed relieved by that.

Finally we all fell quiet and Dad indicated that we should leave her alone so she could sleep off the pills she'd taken. As we left the room, Dad put an arm around each of our shoulders and squeezed us briefly to him. "I'm so proud of both of you for what you did in there today. I'm also surprised you've taken everything so well. Maybe I should've told you sooner and not waited until the situation forced me to talk to you."

"Yes Dad! You should've trusted us." Tara gently scolded him. "You keep saying how smart we are and then you keep a secret like this from us."

"It's all okay now though, Dad!" I put in. Dad wasn't good at casual affection. We got touches and hugs from him so rarely that I wanted to enjoy this one and not wreck it by being cross at him. "So what happens now?"

Dad released us and led us back into the living room. "Well, I guess we get ready for a little 'out there' behavior from your mom for the next few days. I've never known her to do anything physically dangerous, but we do need to stay alert and redirect her if she does. I will hide all her credit cards and leave her one with a two hundred dollar limit, so that she can't bankrupt us if she goes on a buying spree. One time, back home, she saw toilet paper on special and bought several years supply of the stuff."

"I remember that," said Tara with a little laugh. "I mean, I don't remember her buying it, but I do remember the corner of the garage of our house back in Preston being stacked with boxes of toilet paper for ages."

"Anyway Bec," said Dad, "given how she was just now, she may try to mother you a lot for a couple of days. Just don't let it get to you. Or she might get onto some other thing. Who knows! She might just decide to paint. In which case all we need to do is make sure she eats and let her job know to postpone any deadlines for a couple of days."

Dad went off to hide Mom's credit cards and Tara and I hung out with Dan and Angie for a bit. Dan was pleased to see that I was feeling better about stuff. After a bit, I went to my room to do some homework on my computer.

-------

Dad knocked on my door. He seemed a bit tense as he came into my room. He pulled up my spare chair and sat next to me at the computer. By then I'd finished my homework and I was online, just about to log into a chat room. I have more friends on-line than I do in real life, which wouldn't be hard. Liz is about my only real-life friend.

"What is it, Dad? I've just finished my homework, if that's what you wanted to know."

"Bec, with what your mom said this morning, I gather you've started to, um... , you've started to..." His voice trailed off and I turned to look at him. Dad was actually blushing a bit. I was so amused at how embarrassed he was getting that I forgot to be embarrassed myself.

"What I'm trying to say, is that with your mom being a bit, you know, I thought if you had any questions, that I might be able to help you."

"Dad, Mom and I have had some good chats about this stuff. You don't have to do this." Admittedly the last 'good chat' Mom and I had was about six months ago when Tara first got her period. Mom had sat down with me and talked about what I could expect. I was not really looking forward to all that starting up with me, and that's a fact. I didn't count this morning as a good chat!!

"Ah! Yes well, I wasn't going to ... er ... may I?" With that he leaned over and typed a URL into my computer. "I got told about this site at work by one of my colleagues who has a daughter about your age. I thought you might find something useful."

The website, when it loaded, was aimed at girls and was all about puberty and what to expect will happen. We sat and read it together. The first couple of pages were mostly stuff I knew already but it was explained pretty well. Then Dad clicked on a link about breast development which was listed as usually the one of the first signs of puberty. I found out that 95% of girls started growing breasts before their thirteenth birthday. If you figure 95% as being normal, I'd made it into 'normal' by one week. I said that to Dad and he pointed out that the site was really saying it was just as normal not to have started by the age of thirteen. In fact 5% meant one in twenty girls hadn't started growing breasts by that age and that was normal.

I also found out it was pretty normal for one breast to be bigger than the other and that sometimes one breast started growing before the other one did. I didn't point that out to Dad. I was pretty sure Mom hadn't told Dad that I only had one boob growing and I had no intention of sharing that. Despite what the website was saying, I still felt like it was a bit of a deformity and I was still embarrassed about it.

Though we were both a little bit embarrassed, this was really cool of Dad to sit with me and go through the site together like this. I think if he'd tried to just talk to me about this stuff, we'd have both ended up just completely blushing at each other and with neither of us able to put a sentence together. Like I said before, Dad doesn't do casual affection very well and he usually completely dodges any personal, emotional stuff too. With the website to look at, we were managing to do something important together that was personal. I mean, Dad always spent time with us, and we watched sports or movies together or shot hoops in the driveway and all that stuff, but this was looking up about stuff together about what I was going through. It was rare. It meant a lot to me.

I wanted to hug Dad and kiss him and tell him how precious it was and how much I loved him for it but I guessed he wouldn't cope. In the end I wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed him and laid my head on his shoulder. I felt him tense up a bit, so I let go and sat up, making it look natural by reaching for the mouse and clicking on a link to different breast sizes.

I guess we both kind of blinked twice at the screen when it loaded. The page had explanations of each different bra size, but it also had photos of actual women's breasts as examples of each size. The screen was filled with photos of boobs from tiny little AA boobs only just bigger than my little bee-sting of a thing, to gi-normous DDDs and Es.

After a bit, Dad cleared his throat nervously. "Ah yes, well, I hope you don't get your heart set on growing breasts as big as those ones. Every woman in our family has quite small breasts. Your mom was only just an A-cup until she started having you kids. During pregnancy and breast feeding she goes up to the low end of a B cup. Right now, she's bang in the middle of the A cup range. Your nana was even smaller, even before the cancer and the mastectomy. My sister is, I think, about an A cup, and my mother..." He trailed off.

I listened closely because Dad almost never spoke about his parents. I remembered a grandma back in England. She died in a car crash or something when I was younger — before we moved out here. I don't remember anything about a grandfather. As far as I know, Dad has never mentioned him.

"Yes, well! I guess what I'm saying is that genetically, you're going to inherit small breasts, just like your sister has."

Dad reached out and clicked on a link. I think he just picked a random link because he wanted to get rid of the page-full of breasts and because he'd embarrassed himself by his comparison of the family. I guess men aren't supposed to be able to talk about the breasts of every woman in his family like he had just done.

Whatever the reason, Dad's attempt at a distraction didn't work like he'd planned because he had accidentally launched a slideshow that rapidly cycled through picture after picture of women's breasts. I guess the point was to show how everyone's boobs were very different both in shape and size. It certainly succeeded in convincing me! I hadn't realised how different they could be. I mean, I'd seen pictures of naked women in Dan's magazines — woops I wasn't supposed to know about those, but they all had big, round and, according to rumor, mostly artificial, breasts. What I was seeing were undoubtedly real and quite, quite different from each other.

Dad and I both just sat and staring at the slideshow. I've said what I was thinking. I don't know what Dad was thinking about. He didn't say a word though, so maybe he was noticing how different they all were too.

"Oh! My! God!" It was Tara, standing in the doorway, flapping her hands in the air with a pretence of shock and horror. "My dad is sitting with his twelve year old daughter, showing her pornography on the computer."

Dad's face went bright red. He mumbled something about how he guessed we were finished, hit a key on the keyboard which froze the slideshow and hurried out of my room pushing quickly past Tara who ducked out of his way with a delighted twinkle in her eye.

I glared at Tara, thinking terrible thoughts about what I would do to her for interrupting my session with Dad, and for embarrassing him like that. Then I decided I wanted to ignore her and turned back to the computer. This brought me face to ... um ... breast ... with a pair of boobs that were totally hanging all the way down to the woman's navel, but they weren't, you know, full. They were kind of deflated, like old balloons the air has started going out of. I tilted my head sideways and peered at the picture, thinking of how Tara had called it pornography. Pornography is supposed to be sexy or something. I couldn't see how anyone would think that the picture in front of me was sexy!

I reached out and pressed the key to wind back the slideshow a few frames, past several high, pert, teenagers' breasts, to a picture I'd noticed of a woman with one breast about the size of a softball pointing straight out, all full and firm, and the other breast about three times as long, just as firm but drooping down because of gravity. And I thought I was deformed! I wondered what that woman thought about herself. How did she feel as a teenager? Was she teased? Was she miserable? Did she hate the way her body looked? Was I going to end up like that (except maybe smaller)?

Tara plonked herself down in the empty chair next to me and stared at the screen. "Eeew gross! Why the heck were you and Dad looking at that?" I was still angry with her. I was torn between yelling at her and giving her the total cold shoulder. And she'd described the picture as gross! Would she call me gross when she realised I only had one boob? Or when I looked a bit like that (except maybe smaller)? I couldn't cope if she did. And I'd been naked with her in the shower last night. I blushed at the memory. Maybe she hadn't noticed! I decided right then to never, ever, get even a bit undressed in front of my sister, ever again!

I swung my hand backwards and whacked her arm. "You shouldn't have said that stuff to Dad! You totally embarrassed him, and me! He was being nice and you wrecked it!"

Tara sat and rubbed her arm. What an act, I hadn't hit her that hard. "What are you looking at?"

I clicked on the back arrow of the web browser a couple of times to get back to the front page of the site.

"Damn!" she said with wide eyes and a bit of a laugh. "Do you mean Dad was actually giving you The Talk? I'm amazed he tried. I'm amazed you sat still and listened. If you want to know stuff, just ask me."

Right then, I wouldn't have asked her what the time was.

"He didn't talk so much. Just showed me this," I said clicking through past the introduction to the pages of information and pictures. Tara was sort of sneering at the web-site but I noticed that her eyes were tracking over a bit of information about irregular periods. I snorted and clicked on the link for her, then stood up and walked out of the room. She stayed right there and kept reading.

I had to dodge Dan and Angie. They were playing "chasey" through the house. I felt a bit worried for the house. Dan takes up a lot of space and Angie doesn't steer around corners very well, so I figured between the two of them something was going to get broken. There was no sign of anyone else and it was getting close to dinner time so I headed into the kitchen.

Mom had taken some chicken pieces out of the freezer earlier to defrost and had obviously forgotten about them, and probably forgotten about dinner to be honest. I had missed lunch and was getting hungry so I figured if I didn't do something, we'd all starve. I checked out the fridge and the pantry and decided we had all the fixings for some stir-fried honey chicken. It was simple to make and tasty and it would only take about thirty minutes to cook so I decided to go for it. I put some rice on and started chopping up chicken and also some mushrooms, and snow peas and other vegies to go in the stir-fry.

Mom had a kind of wok thing you put on the stove for stir-fries, so after a bit I had it sizzling away and then I scraped the chicken bits in to start browning the meat. When that was done I poured in the honey sauce I'd put together and also the vegies. I guess the smell of cooking spread through the house pretty quickly because within ten minutes every member of the family had visited the kitchen to find out what was for dinner.

Mom and Dad both looked a bit flushed, but Mom was looking better so that was good. Everyone else disappeared to wash hands and stuff like that, but Tara stayed to set the table.

I watched Tara out of the corner of my eye and she seemed to be thinking about stuff so I didn't say anything. After a bit she said, "Oh, I was going to tell you I've shoved that horrible shirt I had to wear this morning in the bottom of my school bag. Tomorrow at school I'll drop it in the dumpster behind the cafeteria. That should stop The Mother from rescuing it and making me wear it again. You might think about doing the same thing."

"Oh! Okay. That's a good idea!"

"That's why I came to your room before — to tell you that!"

"Oh! Okay."

By then she'd finished setting the table, so she came over to stand beside me and deal with the rice, while I finished off the stir-fry. I guess she wasn't going to say anything but was trying to make it up with me for earlier. I was still cross with her, but I was too hungry to care, I had missed lunch after all.

I let Tara drain and rinse the rice while I put some stir-fry in a bowl for Angie, then I poured cashew nuts in with the rest and stirred them in. I remembered being told not to give Angie nuts, but I couldn't decide if that was still true, so I played it safe. The rest of us like cashews in with honey chicken, especially if they're put in just long enough to heat them up but not so long that they get cooked and go all soft and lose their flavor. I know, some people do it differently, but that's the way we like it!

We both yelled "Dinner's served" at the same time. The whole family sat down and we had a nice dinner together. Everyone, even Angie after some encouragement, thanked me for the food and Mom made a big deal about how good I'd made it and how much of a good cook I was becoming. Then she started apologising that she'd left it up to me to make dinner and how she should have done it. Dad shut her up by spearing a bit of chicken on his fork and feeding it to her. She chewed happily and went back to eating. I was impressed how calmly he distracted her.

We had a fairly normal evening sitting around watching TV. That is, it was normal except that Mom brought me about fifteen different snacks and half a dozen different drinks during the evening. Well, Dad had said she'd try to mother me. It wasn't that she was forgetting that she'd already brought me something. It's just that I'd take a sip or a nibble and put it down and not touch it again. Ten minutes later, she would assume that I didn't like it so she went and fetched something else. This went on all evening. She wasn't upset, she wasn't crazy, she was just very, very caring. It was kind of funny.

Eventually, I kissed everyone goodnight and went to have a shower. Standing in the shower made my mind flash back to the shower I'd had with Tara and Dan the night before. I guess I still felt a bit weird about it. My body didn't remember weird though. My body remembered the warm glowing feeling between my legs. I realized I was gently rubbing up and down between my legs and I forced myself to stop. I decided I was probably as clean as I was going to get. Out of the shower, I patted myself dry, and then slipped off the shower cap I'd been wearing and brushed out my hair. On went the pyjamas and a bath robe and I headed to my room.

I lay on my back in bed and realized my body was still remembering last night. The entire area between my legs was tingling. A hand slid down under my pyjama pants and one finger rubbed up and down my little slit. My finger quickly became wet and slippery. The wet finger slid slowly up the groove until it came to the little magic bump. It only took a few gentle circles around that, before a gentle rush of pleasure spread out through my body. It was more of a memory from last night than an actual "come."

I sighed and rolled onto my side, one hand firmly wedged between my thighs.

It had been a long, weird, interesting day.

Tomorrow was likely to be just as interesting.

Before I knew it, I was asleep.



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Chapter 6 : Monday

A loud rustling sound in my room woke me from a deep sleep. I bolted upright in my bed, convinced I was being attacked in my own bedroom. I quickly discovered that my light was on and there was Mom, dressed in her long flannel nightie, spreading plastic over my carpet and belongings. I blinked against the light, trying to wake up, and squinted at my clock. It was four in the morning!

"Mom! What the heck are you doing?" I bleated. I also swore a bit, but I just did that inside my head. Mom hates people swearing and I wasn't silly enough to swear right at her, even after being woken up in the middle of the night.

"Hush dear, go back to sleep. You don't have to get up yet."

"Mom, it's the middle of the night! What are you doing??" I asked again in the vague hope I might get some sort of rational answer.

"When I was in here yesterday, I noticed the wallpaper in this room is far too young for you. You're becoming a young woman. You need a bedroom to match. I thought we could start by painting the walls. How about that nice soft lemon color we used in your sister's room. Would you like that? We have some spare tins of that color paint so it's no trouble."

I looked at my walls. Okay, so the wallpaper was covered with little unicorns and mermaids and stuff like that. It had been there when we moved into the house and I remember saying at the time that I liked it, so it just got left. Sure now that I was nearly thirteen, it wasn't so cool. It would be nice to have new walls, but it was hard to think clearly at that time of the day.

"Mom, it's four o'clock in the morning. Couldn't you have waited?"

"Hush dear. I decided to start early so I could get it all done in one day. That way you don't have to put up with too much disruption. Now lie down and go back to sleep."

With that, she spread a big plastic sheet right over my bed, with me still in it. I scooted out from underneath the plastic and stumbled to my feet. I was too sleepy to argue and I suspected I wouldn't get anywhere if I did. I thought briefly about asking for a different color but despite her questions, Mom didn't seem too interested in my opinions. My best plan seemed to be just to get out of her way and let her do her thing. Dad had said she might start painting. I think we all figured she'd go out to her studio and paint pictures, not charge into my room and paint my walls. I tucked my pillow under one arm and hauled the blankets off my bed.

I sighed and plodded out into the dark of the living room, trailing blankets behind me. I dropped onto the couch, dragged the blankets over me and buried my head in my pillow. A brief thought raced through my brain, something about putting paint on top of wallpaper, but I was asleep before the thought actually made it to anywhere useful.

This time I woke when a heavy weight dropped on top of me. It took me a moment to figure out that I was on the couch and the wriggling, giggling mass on top of me was Angie. Okay, she wasn't that heavy but her jumping on me when I was fast asleep had scared the sh ... um, scared the stuffing out of me. There was light filtering in through the curtains from outside, even though the sun wasn't up yet, so that meant it was nearly time to wake up, but I really wasn't ready to face the day. Angie gave me a sloppy, wet, good morning kiss, right on my mouth and gabbled for a moment about something. Sometimes you really have to concentrate to figure out what she's saying and I wasn't in a fit state to listen that hard.

I groaned and rolled onto my stomach with my face firmly buried in my pillow, hoping she would take the hint and go away and leave me in peace to sleep a bit longer. I guess I was being too subtle for a three year-old because she just grabbed the remote and switched on the TV and then expertly changed the channels to her favorite cartoon station. Then she sat down right on top of my blanket-covered back, wriggled her butt a few times to get comfortable and leaned back to watch some animated blobs chase each other around the screen, all the time swapping between giggling at the TV, poking me in the back and telling me in some detail what the characters on TV were doing. I think she decided she needed to tell me since I was so obviously not watching.

Next thing I knew, Dad was in the room, lifting Angie off the top of me and plopping her down on the floor. The cartoon had changed so I must have dozed off, despite everything Angie was doing to stop that from happening.

"Good morning sunshine, what are you doing out here? Is your bed not good enough for you any more?"

"Morning, Dad," I muttered sleepily, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "I got kicked out of my room when Mom decided to paint my walls in the middle of the night."

"Ah is that where she got to? I wondered where she was." Dad paused to straighten his tie that Angie had pulled to the side, before wandering off in the direction of my room to look for Mom.

I had just rolled myself off the couch and staggered to my feet when Dad returned. He scowled at the sight of me standing there in my pyjamas. "You better go get yourself dressed. I'll go start getting breakfast organized. What do you want?"

I grabbed my blanket off the couch and wrapped it around myself. "Just some cereal is fine. Thanks, Dad." I turned and headed to my room, half the blanket trailing behind me on the floor like the train on a wedding gown.

In my room, Mom had made some impressive progress. One wall was completely painted and a second wall was half done. Mom was perched on the chair from my dresser, reaching up to paint the section of wall above my mirror. She had spots of paint on her face and in her hair. There was also a big streak of lemon-colored paint down the side of her nightie. Mom didn't even acknowledge my presence. She just kept slopping on the paint. I pushed my blanket into a pile under the plastic sheet spread over my bed. I then raided my closet for an armful of clothes and headed out of the room. Glancing into my mirror as I passed it, I could see enough of myself around Mom's legs to cause me to do an about-face and go back to my dresser. At my dresser, I grabbed my hair brush and slipped a hair band around my wrist.

Pausing briefly to bang on Tara's door and yell at her to get up, I locked myself in the bathroom to change. I was dressed, had brushed my teeth and had started to brush my hair when I heard Tara thump into the other side of the bathroom door. I quickly dumped my pyjamas in the clothes hamper and scampered out of the bathroom to finish brushing my hair in the living room. Angie wanted to help but her hands were sticky and I had to keep moving around the room to keep her sticky hands out of my hair. Finally I was done and could tie my hair back with the band I had early slipped around my wrist.

During breakfast, Dad said that he would phone Mom's work when he got to the power plant and let them know she would be unavailable for a couple of days. Mom does graphic design stuff for an advertising company. She only actually goes in to work occasionally; she does most of the work from home and sends in her designs over the internet or by courier. That means that normally she is home to look after Angie during the day. Today Dad wanted us to take Angie to daycare for the day on our way to school. Dan offered to drive us to daycare then on to school, provided we didn't make him late for his first morning class. Dad left for work while we were finishing breakfast.

I made a bowl of cereal for Mom and took it in to her but she just grunted and waved at my dresser with a dripping paintbrush. I put the bowl of cereal on my dresser and hoped she wouldn't forget it. By this time, Mom was down on her knees beside my mirror, carefully painting up beside it. It's a full length mirror fixed to the wall. Dad put it up for me when we moved in. Since then, in all that time, I've probably only spent a total of ten minutes looking at myself in it. I know what I look like! I don't need to remind myself by looking in the mirror. Imagine that! A girl who doesn't stare at herself in the mirror! Shhh! Don't tell anyone or they'll kick me out of the girls' club!

Looking at Mom painting away, I made a sudden decision. I raced out of my room and grabbed the key for Mom's studio from its hook in the kitchen. Slipping on my shoes, I headed out the back door and down to the shed at the bottom of the yard. Inside, about half the space was taken up with Mom's drafting boards and the computer for her graphic design job, plus a play area for Angie for when Mom was working in there. The other half was the space with her easels and stuff for her painting. Her painting is her hobby. She's pretty good, but not like a professional. Every so often she gets to sell one of her paintings at a local show. It's pretty exciting when that happens.

The one she sold for the most money so far was a portrait of Dad, wearing blue jeans and no shirt, holding me when I was about five. I have no clothes on at all and my butt is hanging out for the world to see. Mom talks about how it's a lovely contrast of my pale skin and soft lines against Dad's darker skin and the hard muscles on his chest and arms. Dad looks pretty buff, but all I see is my naked butt! There's a print of it up in the house, but I make The Parents keep it in their room. It's just too embarrassing to have it where people can see it. It gives me the creeps thinking that some anonymous person has a painting of my naked, five year-old butt hanging on their living room wall. The funny thing is that I can't imagine Dad ever actually stripping off his shirt and holding a naked me like that. He just doesn't do stuff like that. Maybe Mom just painted it from her imagination.

Once I got into Mom's studio, I grabbed some of her painting clothes that she keeps in a cupboard out there, and then I headed back indoors. I made sure to re-lock the studio door, of course. Back in my room, I got between Mom and the wall and pushed her firmly away from the wall so she had to stop painting.

"What?" she asked, looking confused.

"Let's get you out of this nightie, Mom! It's got paint on it already and we don't want to let it get ruined."

Mom was just standing there, the paint brush held out from her side, with paint dripping onto the plastic. I gently took it out of her hand and put it down on the lid of the paint tin. Then, I undid the buttons down her chest and lifted the nightie off over her head. Mom just stood there and let me undress her like a child. With the nightie off, she just stood there in just her panties and looked over the wall she'd painted. Mom wasn't wearing a bra, and I glanced at her breasts, remembering the comments Dad had made about them yesterday. Like he said, they were fairly small compared to those others on the web site. They were round and sagged down a bit but I figured they looked pretty nice. Then I felt a bit weird when I realized I was standing looking at my mother's naked boobs. I grabbed her painting shirt and carefully guided her arms into the sleeves. Finally I was able to button up the shirt, covering up Mom's boobs with a little sigh of relief.

The whole time, Mom hadn't reacted at all. She was now looking at the wall she'd painted with her head tilted a bit to the side. I grabbed the scarf I'd brought in and tied it around her hair, then carefully got her to step into an old paint-speckled pair of slacks. Mom made some comment just as I was concentrating on doing up the zipper on her slacks.

"Huh?" I said.

"I said — some of the wallpaper pattern seems to have leaked through the paint."

I looked, and sure enough there were some blobs showing through the paint. "Oh yeah! I think, maybe, you aren't supposed to paint over wallpaper. Now you'll have to do a second coat."

"That place there looks just like someone's face looking up to the ceiling. And over there a bit, that looks like a hand." Mom was getting a bit excited and going all arty but I looked and all I could see were blobs.

"Whatever, Mom! I have to go to school. I'll see you later! Bye!" I kissed Mom on the cheek, hoping I didn't end up with wet paint on my face, and headed out to put Mom's nightie into the laundry to soak. Then I went to find Tara. Dan was waiting in the living room, Tara was only just ready herself but no one had got Angie dressed and ready.

Together Tara and I tried to hurry Angie into some appropriate clothes for daycare. Hurrying Angie never works so we had a struggle on our hands. I laughed to myself as I realized that over the last two days, I'd dressed or undressed Dan, Mom and Angie as well as myself. That's more than half of my family. Sitting in Dan's car as he drove us to school, I found myself looking at Tara. I figured the way things were going, there'd be some reason why I had to dress or undress her before the end of the day. Some of the reasons I imagined were pretty funny, a couple of them weren't so funny. Tara noticed me looking at her and grinning. I think she figured she must have something on her face, because she scowled at me and started wiping the sides of her mouth. Finally she just glared at me and snapped, "What?!"

"Nothing," I replied and turned to stare out the window.

"What is it, you brat?"

"Nothing!" I didn't really want to explain to her that I was imagining me taking her clothes off — even I could figure out that would sound pretty bad. I just kept looking out the window.

"You're a pain in the butt! Do you know that?" Something small hit me on the back of my shoulder. I glanced around and saw that Tara had thrown a bit of screwed up paper at me — just some of the junk Dan had lying around in the back seat of his car.

"Get lost!" I glared at Tara.

"Girls," broke in Dan from the driver's seat. "If you don't stop fighting, I'll kick you out and you can walk to school."

Tara and I both shut up straight away. Dan would do it. One time, he was driving us home from somewhere when we started fighting. Dan pulled over beside a bus stop, gave us some cash for a bus and drove off, leaving us standing by the side of the road. What should have taken half an hour to get home ended up taking us two hours by bus. It shocked the hell out of us and we learnt not to fight in the car when Dan was driving.

I stared out the window and wondered why we'd been fighting in the first place. That fight had come out of nowhere. What was that all about? Had I started it somehow? I glanced across at Tara and saw she was fiddling with the handle on the door. She looked calm, not angry. I did a little internal shrug and went back to staring out the window. I had no clue what that was all about.

I noticed that I was rubbing my chest and stopped myself. It was still sore. Maybe that meant my one boob was still growing. Maybe it meant my boob was going to get a little friend on the other side of my chest. I sure hoped so.

School was exactly the same as always. I sometimes wonder how teachers do it. Standing up in front of classes, day after day, talking, talking, talking! I know the few times I have to stand up to give book reports or something, my mouth goes dry and I feel like throwing up for the entire time I'm in front of the class. And that's usually for only a few minutes. I'd never last for a whole class, let alone do it day after day.

Liz and I talked at lunchtime about a wedding that her dad is going to be Best Man for. Liz has to go to the reception because the bridesmaid is in a wheelchair and Liz is going to step in for her and dance with her dad during the bridal waltz. She's been having dance lessons with her dad so they can do it right and everything. Because her dad will be sitting up at the bridal table all night, Liz got an invitation for me to go with her so she'd have someone to sit with for the rest of the evening. It's all pretty exciting. It will be my first wedding reception, even though I don't know the people getting married.

Liz is also staying over with me on Saturday night, because it's my birthday next Sunday, so we had plenty to discuss. I didn't talk about Mom and the stuff from the weekend. I wanted some time when I could tell her properly without half my school overhearing every word.

After school, I met up with Tara at the bus stop and we rode the bus together to the daycare center. From there, it's only two and a half blocks back to our house so we walked home with Angie between us. Sometimes she walked and sometimes she was getting swung between us by her arms. She had fun but my arms were tired by the time we got home.

We walked into our house and it looked exactly the same as when we'd left in the morning. Tara and I exchanged glances and I headed for my room looking for Mom while Tara looked after Angie. Mom was there, painting away. The bowl of cereal I'd brought her that morning was still sitting on my dresser, untouched!

The first thing I noticed was that Mom didn't seem to have painted much more than what was done when I was with her in the morning. The next thing I noticed was that she wasn't holding a big house painting brush, but her palette was in one hand and she was holding a small artist brush in the other. She was putting the finishing touches to some big painting all over the wall facing my bed. I walked into the room and turned around so I could get a better view of the painting.

My brain insisted on me taking a second look and then a third look before it accepted what my eyes were seeing. My mouth was open in shock, my eyes wide. I was pretty well speechless. There, covering most of the wall was one of Mom's masterpieces. She'd painted a velvet-covered, over-stuffed sofa with a naked woman draped all over it.

That's right — a completely nude woman. She was lying on her back, her head resting on one arm of the sofa. She was looking straight up at the ceiling. The part of her face you could see was filled with a look of intense pleasure. Her hair fell in dark waves down the side of the sofa. Her body was trim and taut. She looked young and vibrant. One long, elegant leg was propped on the opposite arm of the sofa, while the second leg draped over the edge so the foot was resting on the floor. One hand was gently caressing a small but very visible boob, while the other arm stretched down her body where the hand covered the area between her legs.

The woman looked nice, really nice. She looked a lot like Mom, but younger and maybe even a bit prettier. The painting was really good. But it was a full size portrait of a naked woman who was touching herself in a really sexual way and it was all over the wall of my bedroom.

"OH MY GOD!!!! MOM!!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??!!!" Okay, maybe I was screaming.

Mom just turned and blinked at me, noticing me for the first time.

"Hello dear, I think it's finished. Do you like it?"

My mouth flapped open and closed like a fish. I couldn't say anything. Tara burst through my door, having heard me screaming. She looked around for a moment trying to figure what was going on. Then she saw me staring behind her and she spun around, seeing the painting for the first time. Her jaw fell open, a look of shock all over her face.

"Wow!" was Tara's eventual comment.

"If you don't like it, I could always do another!" said Mom and she moved to a different piece of wall, this time looking at the space beside my mirror where her efforts this morning had left some irregular wobbly lines up and down the wall. She tilted her head sideways and gazed at the wall, seemingly in a trance.

"Mom, you can't do this to me. You can't put a nude painting on my bedroom wall. You just can't!"

Mom seemed oblivious to me. Tara looked at me, then back at the wall, then back at me and started giggling. I grabbed both hands to my head and ran out of my bedroom into the hallway. Tara followed me, trying to stifle her giggles. I leaned heavily against the wall then allowed myself to slide down until I was sitting on the floor. Tara flopped herself down beside me.

We both sat quietly for a moment. Well, I was quiet! Tara kept on breaking into fits of giggles that she tried to stop by stuffing her hands into her mouth. Finally she obviously couldn't stand it any more.

"Wow, again!" she said. "Mom sure is a good painter."

"Sure she is. She's a great painter. She's a wonderful painter! I only have one question. If she was going to paint a life-size picture of a nude woman touching herself, then why did she have to do the painting ALL OVER MY BEDROOM WALL??!!"

Tara looked at me strangely for a moment then started giggling again.

"Bec, you idiot!!!"

"What?"

"That isn't just any old woman she's painted!"

"What? What do you mean? Who is it? It looks a bit like Mom when she was younger. I figured she just ... you know ... artistic license and all that."

Tara scrambled to her feet, then grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

"Come on, come back and look at it again."

Tara dragged me back into my room and stood me in front of the wall.

"Now look again. What do you see? Do you think she's pretty?"

I tried to look beyond the whole thing of a nude woman touching herself in all the wrong places and looked at her as a woman.

"Yeah! She looks really good. She looks really, really pretty. She looks fantastic."

I was secretly hoping that one day I might look half as good as her. I mean, I had some chance of looking like that since she was like Mom, but younger and I had the same hair and the woman was slender like me and the face was a bit like mine but more radiant and ... Oh My God!!!

"That's you, you idiot. Mom has painted you!"

The painting shifted before my eyes as things fell into place. There in front of me in full living color, was a larger than life picture of me. There was my face, there was my hair, there were my long legs and my thin arms and my flat stomach. There were my hands, painted in exquisite detail as the fingers of one hand caressed my boob, and the other hand played with complete abandon between my spread legs.

I felt all fuzzy.

Mom had painted me!!

On my bedroom wall!!

Mom had painted me having sex with myself!!

On my bedroom wall!!

And I looked...

On my bedroom wall!!

Having sex with myself!!

But I looked...

I looked fantastic.



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Chapter 7 : Monday Evening



There's a word that starts with "ep." I remember Dad using it once. I had to ask what it meant. He explained that it meant suddenly understanding some gigantic, important Idea (that's idea with a capital I). That's what had happened to me. The word is epiphany. <I just looked it up in the dictionary.> I had just had an epiphany!

Epiphanies hurt! It felt like this huge explosion in my brain. You should make a mental note to yourself right now never to have an epiphany of your own. I sure don't intend to have another one. They really hurt!

-------

I was sitting on my plastic-covered bed. My legs weren't working properly so I don't know how I got there. My ears were ringing. I think my tongue had been blown right down my throat because I could feel it flopping around in my stomach — well, something was flopping around in my stomach anyway. My eyes had popped right out of my skull. Maybe if I felt around with my feet, I could find them rolling around on the floor.

-------

The over-sized painting on my bedroom wall filled my vision. It was me. It was me, completely naked, lying on a sofa, a velvet-covered sofa. It was me looking sexy! Never in my entire life had I ever thought I could ever look sexy. It was me looking beautiful. I had always hated the way I looked. I always thought I was ugly. Mom had painted me beautiful. She had painted me touching myself, touching my boob, touching my ... um, you know, touching my pussy! I know she had made that part up — Mom had never, ever, ever seen me doing that! Maybe she had made the rest of it up too.

Doubts attacked me like a buzzing cloud of wasps swarming in my head.

-------

I stood, peering into the mirror. It was still me. Still the same me, but at the same time it was a different me. It was the new me — the post-epiphany me! I peered into the mirror trying to see past my loose clothing to find the me that Mom had seen. Trying to see the me that Mom had painted.

Vaguely I became aware of Mom standing right behind me, whispering into my ear. "Not like that! You won't understand until you see it all."

I was still stunned from the epiphany exploding in my brain. That's my excuse. Why else would I have allowed Mom just to reach around and undo the buttons on my top and slide it off me? Why else would I have let my mom pull the t-shirt I had on underneath, up and over my head without the slightest struggle. I didn't even notice when she undid the button and zipper on my jeans and slid both them and my panties down my legs. I must have stepped out of them at some stage 'cause otherwise they would have been around my ankles, but they weren't, so I must have. I stood in front of the mirror and I was naked.

Mom posed me like I was a doll: chin up, back straight, shoulders back, hair spread out and draped down my back, feet slightly apart. I stood and stared at myself. Mom was whispering in my ear, I couldn't tell you exactly what she said. It was something about being strong and beautiful. And there, between one blink and the next, I saw what Mom was telling me to see. There I was! This nice looking girl stared back out at me from within the mirror and I was her and she was me. It was like she was challenging the world to see me as Mom saw me. My legs seemed to fold up under me and I sank slowly down to the floor.

-------

I was sitting on the floor, in front of the mirror. The soles of my feet against each other with my knees out sideways and flat to the floor. My hands were gripped around each ankle, pulling my two heels into my crotch. My back was still straight, shoulders still back, chin still up, eyes still locked on their reflection in the mirror in front of me.

A hand was gripping my naked shoulder, shaking it slightly. A voice murmured something about getting ready for basketball. The hand slipped under one armpit and tugged upward. My brain moved my feet under me and pushed myself upright. Vaguely I registered it was Tara, whose hand now slid down to the small of my naked back and pushed me gently but firmly towards my closet. My brain steered myself around Mom, who seemed to be painting on the wall beside the mirror. My brain seemed to be doing things without me actually deciding to do them.

Arriving at the closet I stopped and stared stupidly at the closed doors. After a moment they opened and a pair of hands started sorting through hangers and then they pulled out my bright green and white basketball uniform. The shirt and shorts were both on the same hanger, just the way I always hang them. I rubbed the palms of my hands up and down on my naked thighs, wondering why I could see my hands sorting through my closet and at the same time I could feel those same hands rubbing on the outside of my legs.

Tara appeared in front of me, holding my basketball uniform. She pushed it into my chest and my hands reached up and clutched them to me. She disappeared again. This was something I knew how to do. Using all the concentration I had, I carefully draped the shirt over one shoulder and took the waistband of the shorts in both hands. Carefully spreading out the shorts I stepped into them, one leg at a time and pulled them up. Tying up the strings to hold my shorts up was amazingly difficult. I had to keep starting again.

Tara was there again, holding something in her hands. She muttered something about panties but it didn't make sense so I ignored her and kept trying to tie the shorts up. Suddenly there were four hands holding the strings and tying knots instead of two. That was really confusing. No matter how much I concentrated, two of the hands didn't seem to do what I wanted them to do. That's not true, none of the four hands were doing what I wanted. Eventually two hands took over. They pushed the other hands away and quickly and efficiently pulled the strings extra tight and tied the bow, and then they tied it again making it a double knot. My brain thought that wasn't right and the original two hands started picking at the knot, but one of the other hands slapped them away.

The uniform top was lifted from my shoulder and I raised my head to see why. Tara stood in front of me, holding out the top. I carefully slid my arms through the armholes and Tara guided the top down over my head. Then she pulled the shirt down and tugged it into place. I looked at Tara as she focused on dressing me, and a bit at the back of my brain remembered thinking about me having to dress her this morning. That bit of my brain started giggling at how I'd got that one backwards. Here she was dressing me.

The rest of my brain was mostly still confused about what was happening around me. Slowly it was sorting things out. I remembered it was Monday and I always play basketball at the local community center on Mondays at 5:30. I looked down and realized that I was already dressed in my basketball gear. That was useful. The only problem was my feet were bare. Tara appeared in front of me and pushed me backwards until I ended up sitting on my bed. Why was she being so bossy? A bit of my brain started to tell her not to push me, but that bit of my brain wasn't connected to my mouth, so the voice just echoed around in my head. She knelt down in front of me and started putting a pair of bright green socks onto my feet. They matched the uniform I was wearing. I thought it was a good choice of socks. I'd hate to wear socks that clashed with the rest of my clothes. Then I remembered they were part of the uniform so of course they matched. Then Tara was pushing my feet into shoes and tying the laces.

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I was sitting in the passenger seat of Dan's car, one hand stroking up and down my ponytail. It was plaited very neatly, very tightly, much more tightly than I usually did for a game. I wondered why I did it like that. I wondered when I did it like that. Houses raced past the window in a frantic attempt to get to wherever houses go when no one's looking at them any more. I glanced down and saw I was wearing my basketball warm-up suit. That was handy. I hoped I had my basketball uniform on underneath or I was going to get really embarrassed when I stripped off the warm-ups in the middle of the community center. I glanced across at Dan who was concentrating on driving.

"Hi Dan."

"Hey Bec! You ready to play basketball?"

"I guess!" To be honest I was worried that it might be difficult to play if I couldn't shake myself out of this weird state of mind I was in. Maybe my brain would take over and play for me without me having to think about it.

"That's good because we're here."

-------

I stood on the court. A basketball had just thudded into my hands. I bounced it once, twice, and then glanced up at the ring and threw. Swish! Nothing but net! A team-mate, Sabrina, bounce-passed the ball back to me, I caught it, lifted the ball above my head, flexed my knees, pushed up and let go with a nice jump-shot. Everything felt right. It rattled the ring as it dropped through. Again Sabrina bounced the ball back to me, but it was slightly off. I moved, gathered the ball with one hand and drove into the key, pulling off a nice lay-up which bounced neatly off the board and through the ring. I kept moving as I landed and ran to our bench where I stripped off my warm-up suit. The string on my shorts was a bit tight and I went to loosen it, but I found the strings were double knotted, so I just left it. I ran out onto the court with the rest of my team, ready to start the game.

Is there such a thing as a perfect game in sport? I don't think so, but that game was close. I mean, sure, not all of my shots landed and I fumbled passes a couple of times, but mostly things went right for me. I was in that zone that I'd heard professional sports people talk about. You know, that zone where it all boils down to just the game and everything seems to click into place. I was there and it was fine. It was fun too — not laughing and giggling fun, but the sort of fun that made my whole body feel alive and buzzing. I got rotated to the bench a couple of times. That was just the coach making sure everyone got to play, but each time I could barely sit still. My entire focus was on the game and it felt like this enormous elastic band was wrapped around me, pulling me back onto the court. Each time I was put back in, the elastic would yank me back in, right into the thick of it. It was awesome!

We won the game by quite a bit in the end. I think it had been close up until half-time but we'd pulled away from them in the third quarter. At the end of the game, we shook hands with our opponents and gathered around our bench. The coach and other players all patted my back and told me how well I'd played. Everyone was pretty buzzed! I looked over his shoulder at the scorecard and checked my stats for the game. Everyone hugged and said goodbye, then split up to go home.

Dan and Tara came down from the bleachers and congratulated me. Dan offered me a water-bottle and I drank it down. I'd been drinking from my own bottle, but it was empty well before the end of the game. Tara scooped up my warm-up suit and held it out for me, but I was still too hot to put it on. We headed home. I wondered how Tara had got there, I didn't remember her being in Dan's car on the way, but she assured me that she'd been in the back seat. She said I'd been a bit spaced out and didn't seem to be noticing much. I guess that was true.

During the drive home I felt hyper-alive. I noticed everything. I looked at everything. I checked out all the people in the other cars on the road. I checked out the houses we drove past. It had rained during my game and everything looked fresh and clean. I rolled down the window so I could breathe in the clean air, but Tara complained about the cold so I had to wind it up again.

I bounced into the house and headed for my room. I said "Hi" to Dad when I saw that he was cooking in the kitchen. He asked how the game went but by that time I was already in the hallway so I had to yell my answer back to him. I charged into my bedroom and did a nice jump shot to throw my balled up warm-ups onto my bed. Then I realized Mom was there, holding a paint brush between her teeth while she squeezed paint from a tube onto her palette. I said sorry and went to tidy up the pile of clothes. She stopped me with a grunt and waved the tube of paint at me. I must have looked puzzled because she took the paint brush out of her mouth so she called talk.

"Do that again!"

"Huh?"

"Do that throw again!"

"Oh! Ooookay!"

I grabbed up my warm-ups, balled it up again and did a second jump shot, but this time it just landed on the edge of my bed and slid off the plastic onto the floor.

"Hmmm!" Mom had a weird smile on her face. "How was the game, sweetie?"

"It was great, Mom! I had a really good game." I glanced up at my portrait on the wall and wondered if I'd played so well because of my epiphany. If that was the case, maybe I should have epiphanies more often. All I had to do was schedule one for the afternoon before an important game and I'd be set. "I'm just going to shower before dinner, Mom. See you there."

"Oh well, I might just stay in here and paint."

"Sure Mom, if that's what you want."

I wanted to check out what she'd been painting but she was standing in front of it, so I couldn't see. I tidied up my warm-up suit and dove into my dresser for some sweats and fresh panties to wear after my shower and headed out of the room.

In the bathroom I tried to strip out of my basketball uniform only to discover the string for my shorts was double knotted. I had to sit down and pick at it for a minute or so to get it undone. When I dropped my shorts down my legs I got a big surprise. I wasn't wearing panties. Oh My God! I'd just played an entire game of basketball without panties. I hoped I hadn't flashed anyone during the game. How embarrassing! Fortunately, like most basketball shorts, these shorts were really long, like almost down to my knees, so I didn't think anyone would've seen anything. I started giggling to myself and didn't stop all the time I was showering.

Dinner was pretty simple. Dad had fried up some frozen fish plus made some mashed potato and he'd boiled some vegies to go with it. It was a very English meal. I think sometimes Dad misses the food he grew up with in England. We all chatted about our day. I asked Dad if he'd checked out my bedroom and he said yes, then he kind of blushed and changed the subject. I wished I'd been there when he saw the painting. I think seeing the expression on his face would have been priceless.

I took a plate of food into Mom and forced her to sit on my bed and eat it. I figured she probably hadn't eaten since yesterday. That gave me a chance to see what she'd been painting. The squiggly pattern beside the mirror had become another life sized portrait of me. This time I had no trouble recognizing me. The painted me stood there, one hand on my hip, the other seeming to grip the side of the mirror, back straight, shoulders back, chin up, feet apart, I stared out into the room with a confident, defiant look on my face. It was exactly the same me that I'd looked at in the mirror earlier. It was the post-epiphany me. Oh yeah, like I'd been in the mirror that afternoon, the painted me was completely nude. And since I was facing out into the room, with my feet apart, absolutely everything was on show — and Mom had painted all of it in fine detail, everything down below was there, and even my one bee-sting of a boob was clearly visible.

"MOM!!" Okay, it was more of a squeak than a yell.

"What?" Mom looked at me with surprise. She waved a fork full of mashed potato at the painting. "Did I get your hair wrong? I spent ages working on your hair."

I looked back at the painting. "My hair's fine, Mom. It's the rest of me. Couldn't you give me some clothes? How about a nice pair of jeans and a winter jacket? You know, the sort that COVERS UP the bits I don't want people to see?!"

"Nonsense, Rebecca, you look perfectly lovely like that!" Her voice was all calm and steady. That made one of us!

I looked again at the new painting and had to acknowledge that once again, Mom had painted me to look nice. I think she was deliberately missing the point. Or she wasn't capable of getting the point right now. Either way, I wasn't going to win any arguments with her.

"You realize I can never, ever bring friends into my room, with those paintings on the wall!"

"Oh, hush! I'm sure that if they really are your friends they won't mind at all! If it's a boyfriend, maybe he'll get all excited and show you a good time."

"MOM!!!" Okay, that time it was a kind of scandalized shriek. I fled the room. I ended up sitting in the living room. I might have been mostly innocent about sex stuff but I did know enough to get what she was saying. I think there are some things you aren't ready to hear from your mother when you are thirteen years old (nearly) and that was definitely one of those things.

After a bit, Dad came in and persuaded me to do my homework. Dan was doing his homework in his room, but Tara was sitting at the kitchen table writing an essay so I went and joined her. I sat there with my books open for half an hour, I had a science test the next day, but I can't honestly say that I actually did much studying. Finally I gave up and went to use the bathroom. While I was there, I saw that the clothes hamper was overflowing. The washing hadn't been done for a couple of days.

I picked up the hamper and headed to the laundry. A quick sort into different piles and I started a load of washing. Then I saw that Mom's nightie was still soaking in the sink where I'd put it that morning. I spent a bit of time using some spot remover and hand-washing her nightie to make sure all the paint came off. I think I did a good job, but the place where the big smear had been looked like it would end up a bit faded.

Tara and Dad were putting Angie to bed when I finished so I kissed Angie goodnight, then went into my room. I completely ignored Mom who was standing on my bed and had started a new painting on the wall behind my bed. I decided I was going to ask Dad if we could make this room Mom's studio and I would sleep out in the shed in the back yard. If that little mission succeeded then I didn't care any more what she painted on the walls. Or maybe I could wait until she got over this little "episode" and just completely repaint all the walls.

What I did know was that Mom had only done about two-thirds of my walls with proper wall-paint before she got distracted and now it was going to stay like that forever unless someone else did something. Guess who that someone else was going to be. I went to my closet and found some old pants and a long sleeved shirt. I hid myself behind the door of my closet and changed. I wrapped my hair up in a bundle and pulled a beanie over my head so I wouldn't get paint in my hair. I didn't say a word to Mom. I just went to the tub of yellow paint, gave it a bit of a stir with the "stirrer stick" and started painting. I'd never painted a wall before but it didn't look that hard.

Okay, so it was harder than it looked. It's easy enough to slop paint on the wall, but I was struggling to get the paint to look even. I might have figured it out eventually, but Dad looked in through the door and saw what I was doing.

"Here, let me show you..."

He'd taken three steps into my room when he noticed the new painting beside my mirror. You know the one! He'd noticed the painting of me completely naked showing off all my bits. He stopped and stared at it for a moment, and then I saw him deliberately tear his eyes away from the picture.

"Oh! Er! Excuse me!" With that, he turned around and started to walk out of my room.

"Dad! Please!" I pleaded in my whiniest, most pathetic voice. It must be hard to be the father of girls. I think most girls learn very quickly that they can get their dads to do just about anything and most dads seem powerless to resist. I watched as Dad halted and then turned and headed back towards me. I reminded myself to always use this power for good and not for evil. I watched him walk towards me, carefully looking straight at me and not even a little bit sideways as he walked straight past naked me! If these pictures meant that Dad was never again comfortable coming into my room, then that was another reason why they had to go!

Dad showed me how to hold the brush at an angle and slide it in long lines to spread out the paint evenly. Soon he was standing on a chair and showing it to me over and over again. I grabbed a second brush and started doing what he'd showed me on the bottom half of the wall. It really wasn't all that hard. After about ten minutes or so, Tara joined us wearing some old clothes and an old beret and then there were four of us in my room, painting away. Dad and Tara and I all chatted away about our day at school and told jokes and stuff but Mom ignored us. She was completely into painting what was beginning to look disturbingly like another version of naked me, hanging in the air above my bed.

With three of us working, we actually got it all finished that evening. By the time we'd cleaned off the brushes and everything it was only a bit past bedtime. Dad told us to get to bed in a hurry and I gave him a long look, then looked at Mom standing on my bed painting away. Yup, definitely another naked me! When Dad said she gets obsessed about things, he wasn't joking. I felt so lucky that she'd decided to obsess about painting pictures of naked me. That was me joking by the way! So many people just don't get my sense of humor!

I said to Dad that it looked like I was in for another night on the couch in the living room, but Tara grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room saying I could sleep with her. I broke her grip long enough to grab some pyjamas and then followed her into her room.

-------

The doctor was very tall and very thin. His white coat hung all the way down past his knees. "There you are. It's about time. Everything is ready." He made a checkmark on a clipboard. "Follow me."

He led me down a long corridor with a concrete floor and brick walls. Our footsteps echoed. We turned a corner and there was another corridor. This time, there were evenly spaced doorways, each with metal bars. As we walked past, I saw each cell was occupied by some person in a straitjacket or tied to the bed or walking in circles or reaching through the bars trying to grab me. The air was filled with their moans and cries. I followed the doctor to the last cell. He stopped and pulled out a big ring of jangling keys. He unlocked and opened the door and my mother stepped out of the cell. She was wearing a long, ankle-length white gown. Her hair hung loose and looked tangled. Her eyes were vacant. The doctor took her elbow and led her further down the corridor. I followed. We entered a big room full of light. A painter's easel was set up and the doctor led Mom straight to it. He pointed at me, "You go over there and get ready".

I walked over to the spot he'd indicated and turned to face Mom and the doctor. Mom now had her paintbrush and palette in her hands. She looked at me expectantly.

The doctor gestured at me. "Well go on, we don't have all day."

I knew what I had to do. I undid the buttons on my shirt and let it fall to the ground. I unfastened the zipper holding my skirt up and it fell as well. I pushed my panties down my legs and stepped out of them. "Like this?" I asked. The doctor nodded. Tara appeared, winked at me, then picked up my clothes and went to stand behind Mom.

The doctor pointed to the side and said, "These people wanted to see. I told them you wouldn't mind."

All I could do was stand there, completely naked, as my entire family filed into the room, including Dad holding Angie in his arms and Dan and Nana and my uncle and my aunts and my cousins. Liz and her dad were there too, so were the coach and Sabrina and the other members of my basketball team, there were lots of students and teachers from school, too. They all just stood around in the area behind Mom and looked at me in my nakedness.

The doctor gestured, "Come on, we're all waiting. Get started now."

I sat down onto the velvet covered sofa behind me and spun so that I could rest my head on one arm and put my feet up on the other arm. My hair fell in disarray down the side of the sofa. The velvet felt warm and soft under my bare skin. I reached one arm up to my little boob and started caressing it. Little circles with my fingers, back and forth over my nipple. The other hand travelled down my taut stomach and slid between my thighs. The leg closest to the edge of the sofa slid off and down until one foot rested on the floor. With legs spread widely like that, I was now rudely displaying my most private parts to everyone in the room. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mom painting away. The crowd all shifted around and murmured encouragement. Someone yelled out that I looked great. I couldn't stop now.

One hand stroked my breast, the other explored between my legs. Up and down, then little circles. Up and down, then little circles, repeat until finished. A glow had started deep inside me, tingles of pleasure branched out from my fingertips like sparks of electricity. The glow was getting warmer. The heat was spreading through my body. The crowd were cheering and yelling encouragement. Mom was painting furiously. I was filling up with a heat that set every nerve end on fire. I squeezed down onto my nipple and dug the fingers of my other hand down hard between my legs. My entire body spasmed. I arched right up into the air, supported by my feet and head, my breath escaping my body in a strangled scream. I hung there rigid and suspended, then my muscles relaxed and my body collapsed onto the bed.

I lay in the semi-dark, looking up at the dim ceiling, panting for breath, filled with a fantastic glow of pleasure.

The bed shifted beside me and Tara giggled as she leant over me, her eyes shining in the darkness.

"Wow! That must have been some dream!"



-------

Chapter 8 : Tuesday



I was breathing deeply, trying to regain my breath. My skin felt flushed and was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. My whole body felt warm and alive and tingly. Tara leant over me, resting on her elbow, her eyes shining in the darkness as she giggled quietly.

"What the heck was that?"

"That, my sweet little sister, looked to me like the big "O"; a full-on orgasm. I think you must have scored a ten on the Richter scale."

"Huh! I thought I'd had, you know, orgasms before. You know, from touching myself and stuff, but they were never like that!"

"There are little ones, and there are big ones. That looked like a big one. I'm a bit jealous. I don't think I ever had a big one like that just from diddling myself. I definitely never had a big one like that from diddling myself while I was sleeping. Like I said, that must have been some dream."

At that moment, the door burst open and Dan stood in the doorway. Light poured into the room from the hallway. His eyes scanned the darkened room, looking for trouble. I became conscious that one of my hands reached under the waistband of my pyjamas where it was wedged inside my panties. My other hand was resting on my naked chest. My pyjama top was unbuttoned and open. The sheets were down at my waist; exposing myself like some ... I don't know, tramp or something. I whipped my hands away from my body and hauled the sheets up to my chin. I don't think Dan saw anything. He was looking all around the room, not at me.

"I heard a scream! What happened? Is everyone okay?"

"Everything's fine, Dan! It was just a dream." Tara's voice was reassuring and calm.

She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. My eyes blinked in the light as I lay there, holding the sheets up to my chin, staring wide-eyed at my brother. He stood in the doorway in his t-shirt and boxers. He'd obviously bounded out of bed and burst in here, expecting to find us being attacked by some masked intruder or whatever. When Tara's words sank in, he visibly relaxed, and then his face became concerned. He came into the room and walked towards me.

"Is everything okay now, Bec? You haven't had bad dreams for ages."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. At that moment Dad appeared at the doorway in his flannel pyjamas and a hastily flung on robe. There was some brief discussion while we reassured Dad, then he went back to bed. Dan came to my side to give me a kiss and stroke my hair. As he did so, I could see his nostrils flare. I sniffed the air, trying to figure out what he had smelled. There was a strange smell in the air, kind of musty. My hands, holding the sheets up under my chin were right next to my face. The smell was especially strong around my right hand — my right hand which had just been buried deep in my soaking wet panties! It was the smell of me! It was the smell of the fluid stuff that comes out of me when I touch myself down there, except it was stronger, more ... I don't know ... more potent. And Dan was smelling that! He was smelling my smell! He would have to have figured out what just happened. Oh God I was so embarrassed.

Dan frowned slightly, and then glanced back and forwards between Tara and me. He started to say something then he stopped. He reached over and grabbed Tara by the wrist. Pulling firmly on her wrist, he dragged Tara right out of bed and over beside her closet. She followed without resisting. They had a short whispered discussion. Well, it was more like Dan asked a series of whispered questions and Tara just nodded or shook her head and maybe said a couple of words. Dan was fully standing over her and Tara was completely letting him. It was that other Tara standing there, the one I didn't usually like, the one who I sometimes saw at school when Tara hung out with that Laura DiMartino girl. The Tara who just did whatever Laura told her to do. Except with Dan it didn't seem like such a bad thing. I thought of all the times I'd stood toe to toe with Tara and had screaming fights over just about everything. I wish I knew how to turn my sister into that meek, nodding Tara who stood in her room that night.

Dan left her standing there by the closet and came and sat on the bed beside me. He used his hand to gently move some hair that was stuck to my sweaty face and tucked it behind an ear.

"So, I gather it wasn't so much of a bad dream as a different sort of dream, a sexy sort of dream?" Dan's voice was gentle and soft.

I nodded. Eyes still wide, hands still clutching the sheets to my chin. I mean, how was I supposed to answer that?

"Tara says she didn't touch you, that it was just you, you and your dreams. Is that right?"

"I ... I guess! I was asleep. Are you saying ... would you have been angry if Tara had touched me?"

Dan started to speak then stopped himself. I watched as emotions chased each other across his face. He didn't seem to want to answer. I waited. I wanted him to answer. He could tell I was waiting.

He finally licked his lips and answered, "I guess I wouldn't be angry if you both wanted ... but if Tara did something like that to you that you didn't want, or when you were asleep, then I'd be angry with her. Just like I'd be angry with you if you made Tara do something she really didn't want to do."

"Huh! Like I could ever make Tara do anything, ever!"

He gestured over to where Tara still stood in her t-shirt nightie beside her closet. She was just standing there, looking down at her hands, twisting her hands together. "Normally, you'd be right. But there are times when you'd be amazed how easily you, Bec, could get Tara to do absolutely anything you could think of. If you abuse that, if you abuse her, I would be very, very angry with you."

"I wouldn't..."

"I know that, and that's something very precious about you." Dan lent down and kissed my cheek. Then he looked me straight in the eyes.

"Bec, I realize you're just learning some things and discovering about stuff to do with sex. I want you to always remember this. You are always allowed to say "no." Don't let anyone ever make you do anything you don't want to. If someone tries, you tell them "no" and if they keep trying, you scream and you scream and you scream and I'll come running. I'll make them stop!"

"Will you make Mom stop painting those pictures of me?"

Dan sighed and looked away. He took a deep breath and then looked back at me. "If you really want me to, I will. I guess I could distract her! Give her something else to obsess about. But I'd rather not. Mom's painting is really important to her. It's the one thing in her life she does for herself and not for someone else. When she paints during one of these episodes, she does her best work, stuff she's really proud of. I think it's because she becomes totally focused on the painting and doesn't notice all the things that would normally distract her. I know her current subject is a bit embarrassing for you but they aren't really hurting you are they?"

I sighed. "I guess not. It's just, you know, a bit much, to see myself there on the wall like that."

"I get that. Do you want me to try to stop her?"

I thought really carefully before I answered that. I knew that if I asked him to, Dan would try. Somehow I sensed that if Dan tried to stop Mom, something would change in the family and it could never be put back. That made the answer easy.

"I suppose not. I see how good the paintings are, I really do. I just wish she'd picked something else to paint, you know? Especially since they're all on my bedroom walls!"

"Yeah! I get that too! I never imagined she would do something like this, but..." Dan paused and shook his head. "Well, I better get back to bed. I have lectures in the morning. And you have school, so you should get some sleep too."

He leant over and kissed me gently on the side of my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. With my arms up like that, the sheets started slipping down my chest and I hurriedly let go of Dan so I could grab them and hold them up to my chin.

"Good night, Dan. I love you!"

"I love you too, princess! Good night!"

Dan went over to Tara and whispered something to her. They hugged and kissed, and then Dan left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. Tara came over to the bed, smiling shyly at me, and then perched herself on the bed.

"So?"

"I think Dan thought that we were fooling around with each other," I whispered, and then I guess I giggled a bit as I tried to imagine that happening. "I think he thought you did something to me that gave me such a big "O" orgasm that I screamed."

"Yeah!" She smiled at me again, only this time it was more like her normal smile.

"I think he kind of said it would be okay with him if we'd both wanted to do that. Does he think we're like Aunty Penny and Aunty Ally? Does he think we're like lesbians that we would do sex things with each other?"

"Girls don't have to be lesbians to do that, Bec. Some girls do things with other girls just to experiment. To see what it's like, you know? That doesn't make them lesbians. A lesbian is like, someone who only wants to have sex with women. Aunty Penny is kind of an extreme lesbian; she doesn't like men at all..."

"Except for Dad..."

"You can't count Dad, he's her brother! She gets on okay with Dan too. Apart from them though, Penny hates even having to talk to men."

"Yeah! I've seen her at restaurants. If it's a man waiter, she just goes quiet and lets Aunty Ally do the ordering for her. And it's not shy quiet either."

"Ally isn't really our aunt don't forget. She's Aunty Penny's partner. They'd be married if it was legal, but we just kind of adopted her as our Aunt because she's with Aunty Penny."

"I knew that."

"But anyway, Ally once told me she's not really a lesbian."

"Huh? But why ... how... ?"

"She's really bisexual. Do you know what that is?"

"Um, I think so..."

"A bisexual is someone who likes both men and women. That's what Ally is. Ally had other partners before Penny, back in England, both men and women. It's just that she's been committed to Penny for, like, ages. I think they've been together for about eleven or twelve years now. She was committed enough to move out here with her and start a new life together in a new country."

"They came out here at the same time we did, didn't they?"

"Pretty much."

"Now I'm missing them. It seems like ages since we last saw them. I'm even missing Sam, even if he is a bit of a pain. I guess it must be two or three weeks since we had that dinner together."

"You'll see them this Sunday. It's your birthday, remember."

"Yeah! I hadn't forgotten." I grinned at her, and then I thought of something. "Is that where Sam came from, one of Ally's previous partners?"

It was something I remember asking Mom about when I first found out it took a mommy and a daddy to make a baby. I asked how come Sam had two mommies. Mom had just put me off. I remember being annoyed at the time. It was one of the few sex-type questions Mom never answered. For a while I had the idea that maybe Mom was wrong, that two mommies could make a baby, but Mom just didn't want to admit it for some reason. Of course I eventually worked out that was wrong, but I still didn't know where Sam came from. I mean, I knew Ally was the actual mother, I just didn't know who Sam's father was.

"Sam is only nine, Bec! I don't know. That's way after she got together with Aunty Penny. Maybe she did that in-vitro thing with test tubes."

I shook my head. I couldn't imagine how chemicals in a test tube could somehow transform into a living, breathing baby, let alone my annoying little cousin. I sat up in bed, letting the sheets go and pulled my pyjama top closed. I started to do up the buttons but as I did I must have shivered.

"What is it?"

"I got all sweaty before, when I ... um ... well now my pyjamas are all damp and sticky — and my panties are soaked from, you know..."

"Come on," she bounced off the bed. "Let's get you into some dry things. You can borrow some fresh panties and a nightie or something. I'm afraid I haven't got anything like your sexy pyjamas for you to wear. I stopped wearing PJs ages ago."

Tara was pointing at my blue flannel pyjamas with the little pink and white flowers all over them. I didn't think they were that sexy and I was about to comment, but then I realized she was pulling my leg so I kept my mouth shut. She dug out some clean panties and an extra-long white t-shirt for me to wear. I started to turn my back so I could change, but then I figured that over the last week, she'd seen me completely naked at least three times, so I just shrugged and stripped off my damp pyjamas in front of her. I was surprised to find that it didn't embarrass me at all. Tara found a small hand-towel and handed it to me so I could wipe myself dry.

Like I'd said to Tara, my panties were completely soaked. I glanced at them before I dropped them in Tara's clothes hamper and was shocked to see a streak of blood. I think I must have squeaked.

Tara was beside me in an instant. "What is it?"

"Blood! Look!"

"Cool! Maybe you've got your period, would that be your first one? Or maybe you broke your cherry by shoving your fingers in there." She sighed. "I guess you better let Doctor Tara check you out."

"That's okay, I'll do it myself thank you Doctor"

"Trust me on this, Bec. This is one part of you it's easier to have someone else check for you. Unless you are a total contortionist it can be really hard to see what is going on down there!"

With that, Tara pushed me back onto the bed and pushed my legs as far apart as they would go. My mind flashed back to that visit to the doctor with Mom about three months before when the doctor had put me in a similar position and poked around down below, just like Tara was doing. Except that the real doctor didn't start giggling. I could feel her finger moving around just inside of me as she spoke. Then I could feel her fingers spreading me apart so she could look in. It was the weirdest feeling.

"Well Doctor Tara, what's the verdict? If I'm pregnant that would be a real miracle."

"I don't know how to tell if someone's pregnant except by getting them to pee on that pregnancy test stick thing. I can tell you, you didn't bust your cherry. As far as I can tell, you did that ages ago. There's only a bit left here around the edge. I think that's pretty normal for sporty people. It's a good thing. It's supposed to mean sex doesn't hurt so much the first time you do it."

I could feel her finger touching and running around the entrance to my vagina as she spoke. Vagina! I rolled the word around in my head. We'd learnt the names of all the parts in health classes at school but I never expected to be lying on my back in my sister's bedroom with her finger running around in my vagina!

"I'm pretty sure it's not your period."

"How can you tell?"

"Because the blood's coming out of a couple of scratches you've got down here. You idiot! You're not supposed to dig your fingernails in when you diddle yourself!"

"I didn't mean to. I was asleep! I didn't know what I was doing. Can you make it better?"

"I can't exactly put a band-aid down here. There's one little cut just on the edge of your pussy, it's pretty much stopped bleeding. But there's one just on the inside of your outer lips, you know, your labia? That one's still oozing blood."

I was intensely aware of the way Tara's fingers were holding my pussy lips apart. Every time Tara spoke, I could feel her breath on my exposed and spread out pussy. It was sending little tingles through me. It felt really nice!

"Can you maybe put some antiseptic cream on the scratch?"

Tara went off to find a tube of cream from the kitchen first aid kit. While I waited, I towelled myself down a bit and slid the t-shirt on. Tara came back and knelt down beside the bed. I pulled the t-shirt up to my waist and assumed the position again so she could see what she was doing.

"Hand me that towel, I need to clean you up a bit down here." At first the towel was okay, but when she ran it over the inside of my pussy, right where the scratch was, I flinched. "Sorry. I just want to clean this up before I put the cream on." She dashed away to the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. I'd been lying there and the weird feelings racing around inside me were building up. It felt like pieces of elastic inside me getting stretched tighter and tighter. "Let's try this." The wash-cloth felt incredible as she swiped it gently around, then she spread my pussy lips and carefully tried to pat inside around where the scratch was. The warm dampness of the wash-cloth inside my pussy was so soothing, so delightful! All I could do was lie there and sigh.

After a bit, Tara put some cream on her finger and carefully ran her finger along the scratch, as she did so, the edge of her hand was bumping against the little button at the top of my split. I don't think she meant to, but Tara was bumping my clitoris. My pussy immediately started doing little twitches and by the time she got to the bottom of the scratch, all of that stretched elastic inside me snapped back into place, my stomach muscles started shuddering and my whole hips did this little buck upwards. The effect was that Tara's finger, which had been just inside my pussy lips, was suddenly plunged more than knuckle deep right inside me. I gasped. My sister's finger was sticking right up inside my vagina! I made this kind of "aaah" sound as a series of quivers raced through my body.

I sat bolt upright and stared in amazement down between my legs. Sure enough, there was Tara's finger, plunged inside of me. Her eyes were wide too. She looked up at me then drew it out and looked at her finger. It was glistening in the light, covered with a mixture of antiseptic cream and my juices. Tara carefully wiped her finger clean on the wash-cloth and shook her head.

"I hope you realize, this means you owe me one."

With that, she carefully reached out with the washcloth and wiped up the fresh liquid that had appeared and was dripping slowly out of me. I looked at her for a moment, breathing deeply, wondering how on earth I was supposed to reply to that, when something occurred to me and I just burst out laughing.

Tara glared at me. "What?"

"I was just thinking we just did exactly what Dan was talking about. What do you think he would have said if he walked in just then?"

Tara grinned. "Yeah! Probably he'd give us some speech about safe-sex or something. But what if it was Dad that walked in?"

"He would just blush and walk out again! Or it could have been Mom?"

"She'd want us to keep doing it so she could paint us."

"Probably! We'd end up with a huge painting of us fingering each other on the living room wall."

"I can just imagine the principal, Miss Webster, coming to visit and having to sit looking at that painting."

"Yeah! She'd be all: I'm here to talk about your daughter!"

" ... and Dad would say: Which one? The one lying on her back with her legs spread wide open, or the one on her knees with her finger up her sister's pussy?"

We laughed for a bit and made up some ever more silly situations that would be caused by Mom doing a painting of us like that and hanging it in the living room. Then Tara changed the subject.

"By the way, I notice Mom's painting of you by your mirror isn't quite accurate."

"What? Why? How?"

"Well, she painted you as bald as a baby's bottom down here." And with that she reached out and patted the little mound above my pussy.

"So?"

"So? So she missed all your pubic hair!"

"Huh? What pubic hair?"

"All three of them! Right here! They're really small and pale and ever so cute."

I doubled myself over and examined myself carefully where Tara was pointing. Sure enough, three tiny little hairs were poking out, almost invisible, just at the bottom of my mound, above my slit. "Hey wow! I have pubic hair!"

"Hmm! I don't think three hairs counts. Maybe we should shave them off so they don't spoil Mom's painting!"

"Don't you dare!" I said, covering that whole area with my hands. "Why would you want to anyway?"

She shrugged. "I shave mine. I do it so they don't show when I wear my swimsuit."

"Well I don't intend to go swimming until next summer, so they can stay right there." I jumped off the bed and pulled on the clean panties Tara had taken out for me to wear. That was to protect my precious pubic hairs from Tara's terrible threats.

We sat cross-legged on the bed in our t-shirts and talked for a bit, but then we got cold so we crawled into bed and turned the light off, but we kept talking. We talked about all sorts of things; all about Mom and her illness, about boys and girls and bras and periods and Mom and school and family and friends and sports and music and films and TV and Mom's paintings. We made jokes and giggled and then we got serious about something for a while, and then one of us would say something silly and we'd go back to making jokes. Eventually the pauses between the comments started to get longer. Finally one of the pauses stretched and stretched as I waited for Tara to answer some question, but her answer never came. I rolled over and peered at her. She was asleep. I lay there for a moment, listening to her gentle breathing, and then I tucked the blankets up around her shoulders, wriggled a bit to get comfortable and closed my eyes. Within seconds I was sleeping too.

Dad had to drag both of us out of bed in the morning. We were both pretty grumpy. I guess we should have gotten more sleep. Tara had a double excuse for being grumpy, she had her period. I tried to check my scratches, but I couldn't see properly. Tara looked quickly and said they were fine. Dad left for work. Tara took some breakfast in for Mom and came back saying she was fast asleep, curled up on my bed in a little ball like a cat. Dan had a later start at college so he would drop Angie at the day care center. Tara and I caught the bus to school. On the way, I remembered the science test and tried to do some study on the bus with my books spread over my knees.

I was tired and grumpy all morning. I got into the science test and could only answer about half the test. I finished about twenty minutes before the end of the lesson so I sat there and doodled on a blank bit of my test paper. My doodle turned into a face so I scribbled away, adding to it until it was time to hand the test in.

The class before lunch was history. We were watching some really boring video about digging up pottery used by the early settlers. I tuned out and tried to figure out how I was feeling. It was like I was two people; the Bec at home was completely different from the Bec at school. The stuff with Mom was just so bizarre and I was dealing with all that and giving Dan showers, and taking Angie to the potty and having orgasms with Tara and being all post-epiphany me at home, but then I'd come to school and I was the same old shy and quiet me who just went to all her classes and did pretty well at all her subjects and hardly ever spoke to anyone. That science test was probably my first ever test that I'd failed. Also I kept expecting people to start pointing at me and shouting "Hey look at her, she's got one boob! Hey look at her; she's got three pubic hairs! What a weirdo!" None of that was happening. Everyone just ignored me and got on with school like they always did. I wondered if I stripped off all my clothes and stood in the middle of the hallway like post-epiphany me, with my chin up and my back straight, would they notice me, or would they just walk around me and go on to their next class? To them, I was just that shy kid in the corner with the funny accent; someone to make fun of every so often and to ignore for the rest of the time.

At home, I wasn't nearly so shy any more. I'd stripped Dan and taken my own clothes off and had a shower with Dan and Tara. I'd sat naked in my room for ages in front of Mom and Tara, but I don't think that counted 'cause I was kind of out of it at the time. I'd lain on Tara's bed with my legs spread wide and let her look and touch and stick her finger in my pussy. My sister had given me an orgasm! I looked around the room and wondered how many of the others had experienced anything like that. I decided it didn't matter. On the outside, I might look like the same Bec, but on the inside, I had taken the first steps to becoming a woman. The fledgling woman rode inside me, looking out through my eyes, listening with my ears, waiting for the time when she could burst out and fly, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon.

Until then, I would stay as two people, transforming each day as I travelled back and forth between school and home. That idea wasn't new to me, I mean, for a long time I'd spoken English at home and American at school. Eventually that sort of finished as the whole family started talking this odd mixture of English and American. We got by mostly, but sometimes people at school would look at me all puzzled when I said something and I'd have to say it some different way before they'd understand me. One time, at a fast food place, Mom had walked up to one of the servers and asked "Where's the rubbish bin?" The server looked at her really weird and said "How would I know where the rubbish has been?" I had to step in and explain she wanted the trash can. I'd lived in this country for half my life, and most of the time I pretty much felt like this was my home, but sometimes something like that would happen that made me feel like a complete foreigner.

I'm thinking back through what I've written here and I don't think I've mentioned England much before. I guess I just don't think of describing things like that because they're so much a part of my life. I grew up in the North of England in a town called Preston, in Lancashire, kind of near Manchester but to the north, I think. Then for some reason to do with Dad's job, we all moved out here, just before I turned seven. We ended up in this town partly because Mom's brother and his wife were already here. Mom's brother had married an American woman and settled out here years before. When we arrived here was the first time I'd met Uncle Stan and Aunty Janice. At first we lived in a tiny house close to that big shopping mall, but maybe four years ago we'd moved into our current house which was a bit bigger and meant we each got our own rooms, even if they're kind of small. Aunty Penny and her partner Ally, and their son Sam, followed us out, and then Nana came out about three months later, just before she got sick.

Because of all that, I have a bit of a Lancashire accent. One time in school, they played some of that interview with The Beatles when they arrived in the US on their big tour. (Some of the kids had never heard of The Beatles) Everyone in the class turned and looked at me and started laughing. Yeah well, my accent isn't exactly the same because Preston is different from Liverpool but it was a bit similar, especially at first. It has got softer the longer I've lived here. Except when I spend lots of time with Nana that is, her accent is so thick you could cut it with a knife and I can't help picking it up from her.

At lunchtime, I grabbed Liz, my best and only friend and told her I had some important stuff to tell her. We got our lunches and went out to the middle of the hockey ground, miles away from anyone else and put our jackets down on the damp ground to sit on. It was the middle of autumn — I mean fall — so it was cool but not cold. Then we sat there and ate our lunches and I told Liz about Mom and her mental condition and how I'd only just found out about it and some of the things she'd done and how she was on this painting binge and what she was painting on my bedroom walls. I don't think Liz completely believed me. I told her that when I first saw what Mom was painting, it had kind of freaked me out, (she believed that bit) but how now, in a weird sort of way, I was getting used to the idea of those paintings (she didn't believe that). I told her she could see the paintings for herself when she came to sleep over on Saturday night.

After school, I had a practice session with my school basketball squad. We only have a blacktop at school; you know, an outdoor court on asphalt! When we play games against other schools, we get to go up the road and use the high school's gymnasium but we don't go up there to practice. Tara has to go to the high school for swimming though. A couple of the girls on my Community Center team go to my school, so we get to train and play together heaps. Others from that team go to other schools in the area, so I get to play against them, which is fun.

After practice, I walked up to the high school and waited for Tara to finish swimming. Then together we caught a bus to the big mall. Tara had promised last night to go with me and help me buy some bras and camisoles and stuff. We had a heap of fun in the big department store. I tried on tons of different styles of bras and ended up choosing several different ones with different color patterns on them. My favorite one was a kind of pale cream with little flowers; there were underpants to match so we had to get them too. I also had to get a strapless bra to go with Tara's fancy dress. I was borrowing it to wear to that wedding I was going to with Liz, so we had to match the color (a kind of deep blue/green sort of color) as well as making sure it wouldn't show under the dress.

When it came time to pay, Tara had Dad's credit card, but the cashier was all suspicious and didn't want to let us use it since our name wasn't on the card. We had to get her to call Dad at work and check with him that we were allowed to buy stuff on his card. He seemed surprised that we'd managed to keep the total bill under one hundred dollars, but other than that he wasn't too fussed. The cashier was all snotty with us as she put the charges through and we decided to make sure we never dealt with her again.

We caught the bus to the day care center but when we got there we found out that Dan had already collected Angie and taken her home. We checked our watches and realized it was later than we thought. We walked home and found Mom wearing all her paint-spattered clothes, sitting in the kitchen drinking tea. We hugged her and kissed her hello.

"Hey Mom, finished painting my room?"

"I just ran out of paint. All those flesh tones used up more white and red than I would normally use. I would have gone to get some but your Dad phoned a couple of minutes ago to say he was leaving work and he said he'd pick some up on the way home. How was your day at school?"

"Most of it was okay, but I think I bombed a science test this morning."

"Oh well!" Mom shrugged. "I'm sure you'll do better next time. What about you Tara?"

We all chatted for a bit about our day at school, then Angie came charging into the room, followed by Dan.

"Guess who just used the potty?" asked Dan. Angie sat on Mom's knee and we all played at guessing who might have used the potty. Each time Angie shook her head and said "no" until finally Mom said "was it my little Angel?" Angie said "yes" and nodded her head furiously. We all hugged and kissed her and told her how clever she was until Angie got distracted and started playing with Mom's necklace.

Then Dan put a brightly colored envelope in front of me and told me this was an early birthday present. I opened it and found a ticket for that Thursday to a basketball game the local NBA team was playing. I squealed and bounced up and down in my chair with excitement. Dan told me he had a ticket for himself too (well obviously) and since we had to get to the game on time, he and I would have to get dinner in town before the game.

Tara suddenly got a huge grin on her face. "Dan, are you seriously taking Bec to dinner and then a game? That sounds awfully like a date to me. Little Bec is going on her first date."

"Oh! Er..." Dan seemed to be a bit surprised by that comment. I don't think he figured out that she was just saying that so she could tease me. Sometimes the best way to dodge Tara's teasing is to take what she says seriously and go with it, so that's just what I did.

"Yes!" I laughed and then jumped out of my chair and rushed to hug him. "I'll go on a date with you, Dan!" I reached up on my tippy-toes and kissed him smack on the lips. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dan. I love you." I wrapped my arms as far around him as I could reach and hugged him hard, then stood there holding him as hard as I could with my head resting against his chest. Dan patted my back, and then started to gently stroke my hair. I figured I was just about as happy as I could get. I know Tara had been joking but I was only half-joking. I was going on a date with my most favorite guy in the world; and he was taking me to see my most favorite basketball team play.

"Well," said Mom, pushing back her chair and standing up. "If my little girl is going on her first date, we better get her some new clothes to wear." She grabbed her car keys off their hook and looked at me. "Let's go."

I let go of Dan and only then noticed a little wet patch on his shirt. I hadn't realized that I was crying. Not sad crying of course, not even a little bit!

"Mom, your clothes are covered in paint; you can't go shopping like that!"

"Nonsense, there's no time to waste! We should get to the shops before they close."

Tara ganged up with me and together we forced Mom to go to her bedroom and change clothes. We didn't want to be seen with Mom in those clothes; not only were they all painty, but they were also just a bit, you know, old and tatty too. In a very short amount of time, Mom was dressed more nicely and the three of us were sitting in Mom's car heading back to the mall. Two shopping trips in one afternoon, I wasn't complaining. A girl can never have too much shopping.

At the mall, Mom led us straight to this fancy shop and stopped in front of the window. The window display included this most beautiful dark wine-colored, off the shoulder, floor length gown with matching gloves. It had a tight patterned bodice that flared out at the hips into a full floor length skirt. It was completely gorgeous, for a prom dress. "How about something like that?" said Mom, pointing right at it.

"Mom! I'm going to a basketball game, not a dance. I can't wear that. Not to mention it costs way too much, we can't afford that dress."

"Oh!" said Mom with a frustrated glare. "But you would look divine in that dress! Come on, let's at least try it on." She dragged us into the shop and asked an attendant to see if they had that dress in the window in my size. There was lots of butt-kissing from the attendant as she seemed to sense a big sale. Very soon, Tara and Mom and I were in a changing room as I tried on this amazing ball gown. I was wearing my new bra with the little flowers and I had to take it off because half of the bra showed above the top of the dress, not to mention the straps. The dress was designed for girls with a bit more in the boob department than I have, but some padding from tissues in Mom's handbag soon fixed that and there I was standing in front of the mirror, twisting sideways to make the dress swish around me. Mom took out the elastic from my ponytail and draped my hair down my back. She didn't have to pose me, I kind of automatically went into post-epiphany me pose, with my shoulders back and my chin up. I felt so glamorous standing there in that gown, I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. Mom and Tara obviously liked it too.

"I wish I'd brought a camera" said Tara.

"I know you can't wear it on this date honey, but I think we should get it anyway. You never know, you might get a second date!"

"Mom, you do remember that it's Dan taking me on the date, don't you?"

"Of course I do sweetie!" Mom said with a big smile, and then she frowned slightly, "Which Dan? Do I know him?"

"Dan? As in my brother Dan? You know, Dan, your son?"

"Oh, that Dan! Isn't he sweet to invite you out on a date?"

"It's his birthday present to me, Mom. He bought me tickets to the basketball game for my birthday. You were sitting right there."

"Yes dear, I know, I was sitting right there. Maybe I could get this for you as your birthday present. Let's get you out of this dress so we can go pay for it."

"Um Mom, I love this dress, but we really can't afford it!"

"Nonsense dear," Mom opened her and pulled out her purse, only to find the single limited credit card Dad had left her after hiding all her normal cards. "Oh!"

Tara suddenly slapped her pocket and started to reach her hand in to pull something out. I remembered that she still had Dad's credit card in there and I grabbed her and stopped her with a glare and a "Shhh!" I didn't think Dad would be happy if we let Mom max out his credit card buying a dress like this, no matter how good the dress was.

I changed back into my normal clothes and we returned the dress to the attendant and left the store. The attendant blinked after us as she realized she wasn't getting a sale and all she could do was watch her big fat commission walking out the door. We went back to the big department store Tara and I had been in earlier that afternoon. I picked out a nice denim skirt that came to just above my knees and a matching half-jacket that sat open on my chest and nicely hid the fact that there was not much there to hide. I had a white blouse at home that would work perfectly with it so I was happy, and the whole outfit cost a heck of a lot less than the prom dress would have.

When we got to the check-out counter, we saw the cashier that had hassled Tara and me earlier was still there, so we carefully steered Mom to a different counter. Soon I was clutching a plastic store bag with my new skirt and jacket inside. I was expecting to head back home, but Mom steered us in the other direction. Neither of us complained too much of course, until she stopped outside the Victoria's Secret store and led us inside.

"Ah Mom, why are we going here?"

"You're going on a date. First rule of dating, always wear sexy underwear."

"Mom! I'm not going to let Dan see me in my underwear."

"I should hope not, young lady!" Mom glared at me. "Especially on a first date, that sort of thing should come later. Much later!"

I shook my head. I decided Mom had again forgotten that this was a date with my brother and was purely focused on the idea that I was going on a date. To be honest, right then, I couldn't picture myself letting any boy see my underwear, no matter how many dates I'd been on. I didn't think I would be doing that until I was much, much older.

"Besides, that's not the point," continued Mom. "A girl wears nice underwear on a date to make herself feel sexy; it's not for the boy's benefit in the slightest."

I guess that kind of made sense, and the stuff they had in that store was fascinating so I stopped arguing. I ended up with a nice satin bra and panties set; they had to be white because I'd be wearing a white blouse and any other color would show through. They were a bit more skimpy than I would normally get and they were trimmed with soft white lace and they nearly cost as much as the rest of my outfit combined.

When we got home, Dad was already home. He was sitting in the kitchen sipping a cup of tea and watching Angie who was sitting on Dan's lap and drawing. "Here they all are," he said as we trooped into the kitchen. "So where have you been?"

"We were just buying a nice outfit for me to wear on my date on Thursday night," I said, holding up my handful of shopping bags.

"Date? You have a date on Thursday night? Why am I only finding out about this now? And who's the lucky guy?"

Dan coughed a bit, "Er, that would be me!"

Dad raised his eyebrows and looked at Dan.

" ... and you're only hearing about it now, because I didn't think I could get the tickets until today."

"He's taking me to the basketball on Thursday night." I went around behind Dan and hugged him from behind. All this happened without disturbing Angie who just cheerfully kept on drawing. I could see she was drawing a horse or a sheep or a dog or something like that. Something with four legs anyway.

"So!" said Dad, leaning forward and staring at Dan with a totally serious expression on his face. "You want to take my daughter out on a date, is that right?"

"Er, yes!" Dan looked a bit puzzled.

"Just exactly what are your intentions towards my daughter, young man?"

Now Dan had the game figured out, "Oh, sir, I assure you I will be a perfect gentleman towards your daughter. We were thinking of running off to Las Vegas together and getting married, but it turns out Thursday's a school night, so I have to bring her straight home after the game."

"I hope you realize that she's just shy of her thirteenth birthday. Aren't you a bit old for her?" Dad still hadn't cracked a smile.

"Actually, I'm just the right age. Hadn't you heard? All the fashionable thirteen year old girls are dating college boys this year."

"College boy, huh? I've heard about boys like you. I should warn you that I have a shotgun and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Yes sir, I'll remember that."

Tara decided to get into the act at that point. "You should also remember that she has a very big brother who's extremely protective of his little sisters. You behave yourself or he'll come and get you. We know where you live so you won't be able to hide from him."

I was biting my lip, trying not to burst out laughing.

Dan sniffed with contempt, "I'm not afraid of any brothers. He's probably off doing his own thing all the time and ignores you girls terribly."

"Well if you're not scared of him, you should probably know that Bec has half his college football team wrapped around her little finger!"

"I do?" I asked in surprise.

"You do!" said Mom and Dad and Tara and Dan in unison. Angie looked up and laughed at us, then went back to her drawing. She was now putting in some grass so I was betting on a cow, or maybe a horse.

"Okay," said Dan, putting his hands up and laughing. "I surrender. I'll be good I promise."

"Well now that's settled, how about we get to see this outfit that you spent all my hard-earned cash on."

"Uh unh! You have to wait 'til Thursday." I held the bags out of reach of Dad's grasping hands.

"Oh well, how about the rest of your day? Apart from all the shopping that is — and that reminds me, Tara, I believe you have something of mine."

Dad held out one hand to Tara and she sighed and returned his credit card with a great show of reluctance.

"Um, I think I bombed on my science test this morning."

"Is that so? What happened? Did you not understand the work? Or did you just not do enough study?"

"The work wasn't that hard. I just couldn't study. I tried but I couldn't concentrate. I'm sorry."

"Well, in that case, you'll just have to make sure it doesn't happen again. I bought some take-away, so we can have dinner straight away, and then I want to see you hit the books right after dinner. That goes for you two as well!" he added, pointing at Tara and Dan.

"Yes Dad!" chorused Dan and Tara and we started clearing the table for dinner. Angie complained about us interrupting her drawing, she said her cat wasn't finished. Oops, it was a cat! When she realized it was dinner time she shut up pretty quickly. I gave Dan one last hug before letting him go, and I whispered in his ear that he treated us the best any brother ever treated his sisters, so there! He just grinned at me.

Dad had picked up Indian food, so we sat around the table and ate Samosas and then Dad and Dan had the hot Beef Vindaloo, while the rest of us had a nice mild Chicken Masala and a Lamb Rogan Josh to choose from, all with Naan bread of course. The whole thing was delicious.

I sat there, eating dinner. Mom was eating with us for the first time in days, so we were all together and everyone was happy. In two days I was going on my first ever date and I was so excited I could burst. I looked around the table at all my family eating dinner together and I decided everything was all right with the world.

Then I scratched my ear and thought to myself that maybe that wasn't the safest thing to be thinking.

I didn't want to jinx anything!



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Chapter 9 : Tuesday Evening

After dinner, Mom grabbed the new paint Dad had bought her and went back into my room. Dad washed the dishes while Tara and I dried them and put them away. There wasn't much to do because nobody had cooked anything, but there were still the plates and the cutlery. We chatted about various things while we worked, then I brought up how good it was to have Mom sitting at dinner with us instead of being hidden away in my room painting.

"Does that mean she's finished her 'episode' thing?" asked Tara.

Dad shrugged, "Not completely. She's started to come out of it though. For the next day or two she will phase in and out. She'll be more able to think about other things but then she'll lock into something and lose track again."

"How are we supposed to tell?" I wanted to know.

"Yeah! How do we tell when she's normal and when she's off with the fairies?" Tara echoed my question, but with a bit less tact.

"You know your Mom. When is she ever completely normal?" Dad said that with a smile so it wasn't as bad as it might sound. "This isn't an exact thing. She doesn't just switch on and off; it's more like she fades in and out. Just watch her and notice what she's saying and doing. You're both pretty smart. You'll soon figure out how to tell."

In the meantime, Dan had gathered up all the empty food containers and put them out with the rubbish, I mean the trash. It was collection night so he roamed around the house emptying all the "rubbish bins" inside the house and filling and putting the "trash can" out beside the street so that the "refuse disposal engineers" could do their job in the morning. (Sometimes the whole language thing just makes me laugh!)

Once all the chores were done, Tara and I had to do our homework. Tara and I both had math to do. Mine was pretty easy but Tara had to keep getting Dad to help her because she was confused about something. Normally she's pretty good at math so I think she was getting pretty frustrated. Maybe having her period was making things worse. All I know is that she was getting pretty grumpy. Once I finished my math, I had a book report for English to work on that was due Friday. Since I was going out Thursday night, I figured I better make sure it was finished before then. The first half of the report was on the computer in my room, so I went in there to work on it.

I hadn't been in my room since the night before so when I stepped into my room I looked around curiously. It was amazing. My room was rapidly turning into a full-on art gallery. The first picture had been a total shock and seemed completely weird and bizarre and out of place. But now everything seemed to fit just right. Each painting fitted in its place in the room, forming the overall impression of a room full of fun and life. Sure it was confronting seeing naked me, over and over again, but I'd gotten used to that now and I was thinking more like this was my bedroom, so why shouldn't I have pictures of me in my room?

I've already described the second one Mom painted of me standing beside the mirror. The third one I'd seen Mom working on over my bed was finished. It showed me, naked of course, sitting on a flying carpet, hovering in the air above my bed. I was sitting upright like I'd sat in front of the mirror the other day, with the soles of my feet together and my heels tucked into my crotch and my knees flat on the carpet. My hands clutched my ankles and it looked as if I was holding them so I wouldn't fall off. My shoulders were back and my chin was up in what was now a pretty familiar pose, but my hair, hanging loose, flew out behind me and my face was filled with excitement as I zoomed through the air on that flying carpet. I loved it! It looked so alive and so much fun.

Mom was working on a different section of wall, just near my bookcase. Last year for my birthday, Tara had given me a little basketball hoop with a suction pad and a soft half-sized basketball to go with it. The hoop was stuck to the blank piece of wall just near my bookshelf. Mom was about halfway through a three-quarter rear view of me doing a jump shot towards the ring, with the basketball just leaving my hands. As far as I can remember, I've never played basketball naked, but that wasn't stopping Mom. I guess I just sort of laughed. Then I looked more closely, even though the painting wasn't finished, something didn't look right.

Mom noticed me round about then, "Oh, good! I'm glad you're here. I need you to do me a favor."

"What do you want Mom? I came in to use my computer. I have homework to do."

"Never mind about that! This painting isn't working and I can't work out why. I need you to model for me."

"Mom! I have to do my homework."

"This won't take long. Just a few minutes. I don't need you to stand there and pose while I do a whole painting. I just need you to do a few throws for me so I can see it happening."

"Okay Mom, just a few throws." I grabbed the little ball out of the closet where I kept it and then lined up and did a nice little jump shot. The ball hit the rim and dropped in. "Yes!" Practice does make a difference! I held my hands up and did the standard signal for three points!

"Bec! Don't be difficult!"

"What?"

"You need to take your clothes off. I can't see what your muscles are doing when they're all covered up!"

"Oh!" It hadn't occurred to me that Mom would want me to model naked. Pretty stupid, I guess. I shook my head. Every other time I'd ended up naked in front of Mom in the last week had either been an accident or she'd whipped the clothes off my back when I was distracted. This was the first time I was voluntarily taking my clothes off for my mom, and yes I was stripping off, I hardly hesitated. I figured it was just as well no one would ever know about this because probably some sickos out there would decide this was some sex thing my mom had going. There wasn't anything sexy about this at all, she was into her painting and wanted to see what she was painting. It was nothing more than that.

Mom had me put my hair into a pony-tail and then stand with my back to her and go through a full squat, jump, shoot routine several times while she watched me from behind. I was shooting away from her and the hoop, so I just aimed at the top of the door to my closet. Okay, maybe it was a bit sexy to be doing this in front of Mom while completely stark naked — it sure felt, I don't know, wicked or something.

Then I put my clothes back on and sat down at my computer to do my homework while Mom went back to her painting. Just another normal evening in the Freeman household!

My desk is the other side of the bookcase from the bit of wall Mom was working on so I couldn't really see what she was doing, but after maybe ten or fifteen minutes I could tell things were still not right with the painting because Mom was grumbling to herself and kept stopping to wipe bits away and re-do them. Eventually she came over and almost pulled me out of my chair in her hurry to have me model again. I stripped off my clothes again and did a few more throws, trying hard to squat, push up and offload just the same each time. This time Mom had me turn slightly each time, so she saw it from a slightly different angle each time I threw. After four or five throws Mom got a pleased look in her face and turned back to the painting without saying anything to me. I figured that meant she was done for now, but would probably want to see more in a little while, so I just sat down to do more of my book report. I mean, sure I was naked, but the central heating was going so I wasn't cold and it was a hassle to keep putting my clothes on and taking them off so it seemed logical. It also felt really naughty to be sitting doing my homework naked — really, really naughty.

In the distance I heard the phone ring, but someone answered it and there was no yell for me, so I didn't think much more about that. I just kept typing away. I had it all pretty well planned out in my head what I had to say, I just had to get it into the computer. Feeling the surface of the chair under my bare bottom and thighs was a really weird sensation. Somehow the idea of doing homework in the nude made it fun, so I was flying through the work and only had about a paragraph to go, when suddenly...

Suddenly there was a knock and the door opened. Dad was standing in the doorway, together with Liz, wearing her black bike leathers and holding her helmet and her small overnight bag. I was surprised to see Liz and I started to greet her when I suddenly registered that she and DAD were standing in my doorway and I was STARK NAKED! I screamed and scrambled out of my chair, leaving it lying on its back on the floor. I scurried across the floor and scooped up my pile of clothes, holding them pathetically in front of me.

"DAD! GET OUT!"

Dad was standing there, blinking and looking pretty well like he'd just been hit by a truck.

"Dad, you're supposed to knock and then wait before you open the door. I'm all naked and you shouldn't have come in." I kind of slumped down onto the floor, still clutching my clothes in front of me. It didn't make me feel much better. I promptly burst into tears.

Dad started spluttering, "Your mother is in here painting. You were supposed to be doing your homework. How was I supposed to know... ?"

I pointed pathetically at the computer, "I was doing my homework!"

"But why were you... ? Never mind." He shook his head, obviously not coping very well with the conversation. That made two of us. He pushed Liz in the back so that she stumbled into the room. "Your friend's here! She's staying the night. I said it would be okay!" And with that he stepped back out of the room and closed the door in a hurry — not quite slamming it, but pretty close.

Liz just stood there and stared at me, her bag in one hand and her helmet in the other. I sat on the floor, clutching my clothes to myself and looked back at her. I'd stopped crying as quickly as I'd started but I could still feel the wetness on my cheeks. I must have looked completely pathetic. I was vaguely aware of Mom still painting in the background. I think she'd just completely tuned out the whole shouting match.

Suddenly Liz just burst out laughing. She dropped her bag on the floor and propped her helmet on top, and then she came over to me and reached down to grab my hands. She pulled me to my feet and hugged me — not seeming to care that I just stood there still clutching my clothes. Her leather gear felt cold against my skin. She grabbed one sleeve of my top, which was dangling uselessly from one hand and used it to wipe my face dry.

"You never told me you did your homework in the nude!" she said to me rather accusingly.

"I don't! ... well I didn't! ... well I..." I flapped one hand at where Mom stood painting naked pictures of me, hoping that would explain everything. Then I went to my closet and pulled out a robe to put on, silently cursing myself for not having done that in the first place. I was feeling like I hadn't been that embarrassed for ages, but then I stopped myself and decided I hadn't been that embarrassed for at least twelve hours — which was as good as I could possibly hope for, given the week I was having. "Mom was having trouble with her painting and she got me to take my clothes off so she could see." I gestured at Mom, who was staring intently at her latest masterpiece.

"Hello Mrs Freeman!" said Liz, always the polite one. I'm not sure Mom even heard though. Liz seemed a bit put out at being ignored, but then she realized Mom was completely absorbed in what she was doing. Liz looked at the now mostly-finished painting of me throwing the basketball for a bit, then turned and did a slow scan around the room, carefully examining each of the other paintings.

"Wow!" She ended up looking at the big one of me on the sofa, touching myself. I watched her nervously, hoping she wouldn't laugh at me or find it disgusting or ... I don't know what else. All she did was slowly shake her head and say "Wow!" again.

"When you said your mom was painting nude pictures of you on your bedroom wall, I kind of found it hard to believe. You weren't kidding me at all were you? I didn't think they'd be ... Wow! And they're so big! I knew your mom was a good painter, but these are really, really good. And they're really ... um ... they're really sexy! How on earth do you sleep in here?"

"I haven't! Sunday night I slept on the couch, last night I slept with Tara in her room."

"And you say your mom's done all this in three days?" I nodded. "Wow!"

Mom chose that moment to decide she needed me to pose some more. I saw her turn towards me and I knew what was going to happen. It was like watching a train wreck. I knew what was going to happen but I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. Mom came straight towards me and started tugging at my robe.

"Come on, dear, just one more time. I've nearly got it."

"I can't, Mom! Liz is here. I can't do this in front of Liz." I clutched my robe tightly, holding it closed against Mom's insistent hands.

Mom turned and seemed to notice Liz for the first time. "Oh! Hello Liz dear! How long have you been here?"

"I just got here. Hello Mrs Freeman, it's nice to see you again."

Liz came up and gave Mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Liz doesn't have a mom and she's kind of half adopted my mom as a stand-in for her. Mom has quite cheerfully started describing Liz as her favorite daughter any time she wants to annoy Tara or me. Mom returned the hug and kiss, but wasn't so easily distracted. She turned back to me with a glare.

"Now sweetie, just one more time, please!"

"I can't, Mom! Not in front of Liz."

Liz grinned. "Hey. I don't know what your problem is, girlfriend." She gestured around the room. "If these are as accurate as I think they are, then I'm already seeing everything you've got to show."

"Yes, but..." Damn her, she had a really good point, but I wasn't ready to give in. " ... but it's different. Those are just paintings."

Liz looked around the room then back at me. She nodded. "I know how to fix this. I wanted to get out of these leathers anyway."

With that she slid off her leather jacket, folded it, picked up the chair and hung her jacket over the back of the chair. She then kicked her shoes off and pulled her socks off, one at a time, tucking them inside her shoes. Without even hesitating, Liz then undid the button and the zipper on her leather pants and pushed them down to the floor, stepping out of them and hanging them over the back of the chair with the jacket. I stared in amazement as Liz's hands went to the hem of her t-shirt and whipped it over her head, leaving her in bra and panties. They quickly followed and Liz, now naked as the day she was born, calmly folded up her t-shirt and underwear and tucked them inside her bag.

She turned and pointed at my robe, "Now you!"

I just stood there and gaped at her. Liz is a bit shorter than me and has a fuller figure. She isn't fat, so much as having more curves where I am mostly skin and bone. Liz's hair is jet black and hangs straight to her shoulders. Her skin is a beautiful pale olive sort of color. Both her parents were born in America, but I think her mother's family came from somewhere Mediterranean, like Greece maybe, I don't think even Liz knows for sure. As I understand it, her mom's mother had been kicked out of the family when she was pregnant with Liz's mom. Liz has two small, but perfectly formed breasts and a small patch of dark fuzz on the mound between her legs. In all the time we'd been friends, Liz and I had never really been naked in front of each other. I mean, we'd got changed together, but not been naked and stood looking at each other like we did now. Yes, we were both naked, because in the meantime, Mom had removed the gown from my unresisting fingers and slid it off my shoulders. Mom's paintings had convinced me that I could sometimes, under the right circumstances, look kind of nice, but Liz was just outright pretty.

Now Mom pushed the ball into my hands and instructed me to throw the ball to Liz. I did that a few times, carefully going through the same movements as before, while Liz caught the ball and returned it to me each time without saying a word, but her eyes were full of laughter.

It only took three times before Mom was satisfied. This time I got a little pat on the shoulder and a quick "Thanks sweetie!" from Mom before she headed back to work on her painting.

Liz came up to me and she grabbed both my hands in hers. "Well, look at you, the naked model!"

"I can't believe you did that! You just took all your clothes off so I would! Do you have some secret other life as a nudist or something?"

Liz shook her head, "Not really, I've never done anything like that before, not really. I just got inspired by all these naked pictures. But I go naked at home all the time when Dad's not home. It's just him and me at home, so if he's out I'm all alone. If it's not too cold, I strip down and wander round the house. It feels kind of daring, but really it isn't I guess."

"I never knew you did that. You never did anything like that when I stayed over."

"You were always so shy about your body. I guess I just didn't do or say anything because I thought you might freak out a bit. Then I saw all these paintings and you studying in the nude with your mom right in the room and I realized that you'd changed."

"I guess I have, a bit. Even a week ago I couldn't have even imagined doing anything like this and now look at me." I held my arms a bit wider, which, since I was holding her hands, meant her arms went wide too. We looked each other up and down.

"You have a nice body," I said, "You look really pretty."

"So do you! You've started growing boobs too!"

"Well, one boob anyway! I thought there was something wrong with me at first!"

"Don't worry about it. One of mine started growing before the other, but the other one caught up pretty quick!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! This left one is still a fraction bigger, but I don't think it's very noticeable."

I looked more carefully at her nice round little boobs, and then I shook my head. "It isn't at all."

Liz leant forward and hugged me. That was an interesting experience. I'd never had a naked hug before. I could feel her boobs kind of mashing into my chest and when I felt my nipples rubbing on her skin, they suddenly went all hard and pointy.

Liz let me go and smiled happily, "It's nice to see you, anyway." And then she giggled as she realized what she'd said. "I mean, it's nice to visit you!"

"Yeah, why are you here anyway? I can't imagine either of our dads letting you come here on a school night."

"One of Dad's friends got into some kind of trouble and Dad wanted to go riding to the rescue. I guess he's not comfortable with the idea of me staying on my own all night, so he called your dad and told me to pack a bag. Five minutes later I'm on the back of his bike and then he's throwing me off onto your doorstep and roaring off into the night. So here I am!"

"Well, cool!"

At that point, Dad knocked on the door and spoke through the closed door. "Bec honey, don't forget to finish your homework. Chase your mother out of the room when you two are ready to go to bed, I think she'll be ready to sleep in her own bed tonight!"

"Thanks Dad! I was nearly finished anyway," I yelled through the door.

I looked at Liz, "I only have a paragraph to go and I'm done for the night."

Liz giggled at me, "I dare you to stay nude while you do it."

I stared at her, trying to think of some reason why I shouldn't, but I couldn't think of anything, so I just turned and went to my desk and sat down. Liz giggled and reaching into her bag, pulled out a novel she was reading. Soon I was typing away and Liz was sitting on the floor, her back against a wall with her knees up and her book propped on her knees. Oh yeah, and we were both still naked. Inside I was giggling like a crazy person, but Liz was being so calm about it that I just had to sit there with this serious expression pasted onto my face and finish my book report.

I had finished my report and saved it and was waiting while it printed when Mom came up to me with the little ball in her hands.

"Just one last thing, sweetie, if you don't mind?"

"What do you want me to do Mom?"

"Stand here holding the ball over your head. That's it, now up on your toes, like you're just jumping to throw it. Yes perfect, now hold that for a moment."

I stood there, on my toes, with the ball over my head and held still. Mom had her left hand on my stomach to steady me and while she lightly ran the fingers of her right hand down the muscles of my arms and over my shoulders. Her touch was so light; it was like a feather being brushed over my skin. I could feel tingles left behind on my skin after her fingers had passed, like the wake of a boat. Her feather-like touch ran over my shoulders then around and down my spine, all the way to the top of my backside. Then she started again at my shoulders and this time ran down my left side. I could feel her fingers exploring the little gaps between my ribs, running up and down the channels between each rib. I could feel that my ribs were sticking out quite a bit in this pose from the way her fingers ran along between them.

My eyes were wide open and I could see Liz sitting there, her book forgotten on her lap as she watched with eyes as wide as mine. Mom's fingers ran lightly around the bone at the top of my hips and then followed the line of my hips around to the taut muscles of my backside, which were all clenched from holding the pose I was in. My skin felt so alive, so sensitive. All the time, her left hand felt strong and steady against my stomach, in complete contrast to the barely-there touch of the fingers of her right hand. Now they followed the muscles down the back of my left thigh, following the way they twisted slightly as they made the journey from my backside down to the side of my knee. I could feel Mom's soft breath against the skin on my hip as she squatted down to trace my strong calf muscles, I could feel how rigid my calves were, holding me up on my toes. Her touch highlighted for me the different lumps and dips in the swell of my calf muscles down the back of my leg.

Mom grunted and stood up and sensing that she was done, I relaxed down out of the pose. Mom's lips briefly touched the hyper sensitive skin on my left cheek, and then she whispered in my ear that the painting was nearly done, and she was gone. I was left standing there, my whole body tingling, wondering what the heck had just happened.

Liz joined me and whispered quietly, casting quick glances at my Mom who was back at her painting. "That looked sooo sexy!"

"It was!" I whispered back, "It was as sexy as hell, but I'm so confused. It was nothing to do with sex. Nothing at all!"

"I could see that! She was just tracing your muscles. But there was this incredible tension going on. I don't know how to describe it."

We steered each other to my bed and sat, our heads close together so we could whisper and not be overheard by Mom — not that she was listening — it just didn't seem right to talk like this in a way that Mom could overhear.

"Half of the tension came from me holding that pose; it wasn't easy you know! The other half..." Then I got it! Mom had just accidentally given me a brilliant demonstration of the difference between sexual and sensual. She'd tried to explain it to me once but either I'd been particularly dumb that day or she hadn't done a good job of explaining it — either way I had just ended up confused. Now I understood! What Mom had just done to me had been purely sensual, nothing sexual at all, but like Mom had tried to explain that time, the whole sensual experience was incredibly sexy!

I tried to explain all this to Liz but I think she only half understood what I was trying to say. I ended up growling in frustration. I realized I was getting angry at myself because I was too stupid to explain something so simple. Finally I gave up!

"Now I'm all angry and frustrated! Ten minutes ago I was feeling all sexy. Before that I was having fun with you. Before that I burst into tears out of nowhere in the middle of fighting with Dad. It feels like my emotions have been on this wild roller-coaster all week and I'm being whipped around in circles and upside down and all over the place."

"I get the same. I try to tell my dad about it but he just laughs it off. He says it's just my hormones going wild and I should expect it because of puberty and all. That might be the reason, but it doesn't make it any easier!"

"Gah! Puberty! I think I've only just started. But if this is what it's going to be like for the next two or three years, I don't know how I'll cope! I feel like I'm on this path from being a shy little girl and turning into this confident woman, but it's this really slippery slope and every time I take a step forward I'm just as likely to go sliding back downwards."

"I get that! But I think it's more like a slippery path inside a really complicated maze because every step you take, you come across these impossible choices you have to make! And each choice looks just as good, but some of them lead to dead ends and some of them end up making your life worse and not better."

"That's right! And sometimes when you feel yourself sliding backwards you end up in a better place than where you were trying to get to! It's all so impossibly confusing."

"Maybe it's like a computer game maze, because every so often there's some complicated challenge you have to overcome if you want to keep going along that path."

"Yeah, except you don't get to press the restart button if you make a mess of things!"

We kept talking like that for a bit, and then Mom came over and sat down on the bed beside us.

"Well honey, I'm finished! That turned out to be a tougher painting than I expected."

Mom completely ignored the fact that Liz and I were sitting on my bed completely naked. In fact, I'd kind of forgotten. No that's not true, it was more like I'd just got used to it. We looked at the painting. She'd captured that moment when I released the ball at the end of the jump. The ball was painted there clearly flying towards the little hoop stuck to the wall. Like I said before, it was kind of viewed from three-quarters back. You could see my skin, clear and healthy and taut across my ribs and spine. The muscles all down my back, my butt and my legs weren't sticking out like on a weightlifter, but were still there; all tense and firm under my skin. I looked strong, powerful, in control. My body was in perfect position for a jump shot, bolt upright with my hands directly over my head. I shook my head in wonder.

"Mom, it's awesome!"

"Yeah, it's fantastic, Mrs Freeman."

"Thank you, dears!" Mom leant over and kissed each of us on the cheek.

"Mom, Dad said you should stop painting and go to bed. It's a school night, so we need to get some sleep, and we can't do that if you're in here painting."

"Yes sweetie, that's a good idea. I think I could do with a nice sleep! And my bed definitely wants to be slept in." Mom got up and headed towards the door, and then she stopped and turned back to us. "Liz dear, would you be terribly offended if I did a painting of you?"

Liz looked startled! "You mean you want to do a painting of me? A painting like one of these?"

"Yes dear, would that be okay with you?"

Liz's eyes were wide, "I guess!"

Mom smiled, turned and left my room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Liz shook her head. I nudged her elbow, "Hey! At least she asked you!"

We both laughed. I couldn't decide if Liz was embarrassed or shocked or excited to think about have a nude painting done of her. We were quiet for a bit, and then we started chatting about what it felt like to have someone paint a sexy picture of you. Somehow the conversation went to telling stories about situations where we got all turned on by something. This led to me telling Liz about what happened with Tara in her room the night before.

"And what happened then?" Liz wanted to know. "What did you do next?"

"Nothing happened. I stopped. I put my panties on and we talked about other stuff."

"You mean you didn't, like, I don't know, return the favor or something?"

"I didn't say anything at the time, I didn't even think it then, but I think I chickened out. I completely wimped it! My brain just wouldn't let me keep going with Tara. It made me stop and do something else. I wasn't even really aware of it at the time."

Liz stared at me for a moment, "You know your mom has had these long talks with me about sex stuff. Times when you were busy doing basketball or something. I think Dad asked her to talk to me. It was nice that she did that. One of the things she kept saying was how important it is not to do anything until you're completely ready. I asked her how to know if I was ready. Do you know what she said?"

"If you're even a little bit uncomfortable, you're probably not ready, so don't do it. Mom has the same talks with me."

"I think that weird brain of yours just sensed that you were uncomfortable and it stopped you. I also think your sister was pretty cool for realizing and not pushing you further than you were willing to go. She must have been pretty horny after doing that with you, but she didn't complain when you stopped."

I thought about what she said and I figured she was right. I nodded at her and gave this tentative little smile. "I guess we should get ready for bed." I pushed myself up off the bed and went to my dresser to look for pyjamas. "Did you bring some pyjamas, or do you want to borrow some?"

Liz looked at me and shrugged, "Why don't we just sleep like this?" She asked pointing out our nakedness.

"Oh!" That stopped me! I stood there with one hand reaching out to the dresser while I tried to think about that. "I guess!" My hand dropped to my side and I looked around the room. "I need to go to the bathroom first though, and I'm NOT going to walk around the house like this. What about you? Do you need to go? Oh God! I'm a terrible host. I didn't even ask if you wanted a drink or something. Are you hungry? Did you have dinner?"

"Shhh! It's okay! I'm fine. We'd almost finished dinner when Dad got the phone call so I'm not hungry. I will go to the bathroom with you though. I guess we better put on robes or something. I think we'd give your dad a heart attack if he ran into the two of us walking down your hallway like this."

We both giggled a bit and then I picked up my robe and found a second one for Liz to wear. We went to the bathroom together and waited while we each used the toilet and washed. Then we both brushed our teeth — Liz had brought her toothbrush with her — and headed back to my room. We waved goodnight to Dad who was sitting watching the BBC news on cable. The measured, cultured English accents were describing some sort of health problem in a village in the midlands. I hoped it wasn't more of that cow disease that had everyone freaked out a few years back.

We went back to my room and hung up the two robes. I turned off the main room light, leaving just the reading lamp beside the bed. Together and naked, we crawled into my bed. We lay on our sides, facing each other, with the blankets pulled up to our shoulders and chatted for a bit. Liz seemed to be ignoring our nakedness so I tried to do the same but I was hyper-aware of the feel of the sheets on my skin and the simple fact that my best friend was lying a foot away from me, just as naked as I was. Under the circumstances, I guess it's not too surprising that the conversation turned fairly quickly to sex. After a few random comments about different people at school and how far they had supposedly gone, Liz brought the conversation to a much more personal level.

"You're so lucky to have a sister that can do what yours did last night. I can't imagine going to my dad and saying I'm bleeding down there, could you check it out please!" We both giggled at that. No way could I ask my dad that either so I totally understood. "And she touched you so much that you came?"

"Yeah! It was kind of exciting and embarrassing at the same time."

Liz sighed, "You're so lucky. I've never had anyone else give me an orgasm. You know I let Billy Ptsaris touch me down there don't you?"

"You told me about that."

"He touched and fiddled and stuck his finger in me, and it was kind of nice and exciting and everything, but he had no clue what he was doing and I didn't even get close!"

I held my breath as something occurred to me. I thought about it then let my breath out enough that I could speak. I felt really nervous. "I could, you know, if you wanted me to, I could try..."

Liz's eyes opened wide as she looked at me. "I didn't mean it like that. You don't have to."

"I want to. I want to help you feel like I felt. I want to try anyway. But please don't hate me if I chicken out."

Liz leant over to me and kissed me lightly on the lips. "I couldn't possibly hate you. You are my best friend and I love you."

I reached out and ran my fingers lightly over her face. I did it as lightly as I could; trying to explore the contours of her face the way Mom had explored my body earlier. "I love you too. Now close your eyes and let me do this," I whispered.

Liz closed her eyes and let out her breath with a slow sigh. I kept one hand exploring her face while the other pushed around her head, running through her hair, then back behind her ear and down around her neck. I was trying hard to be as sensuous as I could. Trying to apply what I'd learnt when Mom had done it to me, but this time, I was trying to be sexy as well. I knew the areas just under my ears and around my neck were especially sensitive so I paid extra attention to those areas on Liz.

I had to push the blankets down so that I could get at her shoulders. With both hands roving slowly around her shoulders and arms, Liz gave another slow sigh and rolled to lie flat on her back. "This is really nice, Bec, keep going."

Lying on her back like that, and without the support of a bra, Liz's breasts had flattened out some, but her nipples were standing up like little traffic cones. I avoided touching her nipples at first. If they were anything like mine, they'd be super-sensitive right now. I let my fingers trail around the outside of her chest, down across her stomach, back along the lines of her ribs then back up to her breasts. I drew little circles around the flesh of her boobs, spiralling in the same way I like to do it to myself sometimes, teasing her as I got closer and closer to those hard erect little nipples pointing towards the ceiling.

When my fingertips finally brushed across her nipples, I saw a little shudder travel down the skin of Liz's stomach. Her hands, which had been lying relaxed by her sides, twitched a little and then relaxed again. Liz gave another of her gentle sighs. I could feel a smile on my face. It was really nice to be making someone else feel good like this. It made me feel very warm and squishy inside!

My hands left Liz's breasts and travelled down her stomach. Hers felt softer than mine; her skin was softer to start with and she didn't have as much muscle across her abdomen as I did. Not that I was Superwoman or anything, but from all the sports I do, my stomach felt firmer than hers. I explored her belly button, and then kept travelling lightly south. My fingers hesitated just before the little patch of fuzz on her mound. I wasn't quite ready to go there yet. My hands separated and explored down the tops of each of her thighs, then drew up along the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs before parting again to trace the hollow between her thigh muscle and her pubic mound.

Now I was ready and I leant closer to watch as I ran my fingers lightly through the hair she had there. It was black and fine and silky and felt exquisite under my finger-tips. I watched closely as my fingers ran on down to the neat little furrow between her legs. It had opened up a little, like a flower just starting to bloom, and the insides glistened in the light with her wetness. I ran my fingers down the outside of her lips, then back up along the inside. It felt wet and hot and smooth against the skin of my fingers. I looked carefully for the clit and found it, just peeking out from behind its little covering. My fingers, now slick with her juices, ran up and around her clit, brushed over it briefly, then went back down into her slit.

I was feeling little shivers of excitement run through me as I explored my best friend so intimately. She was laid out there in front of me; so open, so trusting, so relaxed. It made me feel wonderful, knowing I was making my friend feel so good. I realized I had unconsciously started pressing my thighs together, squeezing myself to enhance the pleasure I was feeling. I leant forward and planted a gentle kiss on Liz's stomach, right below her belly-button, then returned my attention to my hand.

Liz moaned quietly as my fingers brushed over her clit, and she whipped one hand up so she could bite down on her fist and muffle the sound. I chewed lightly on my bottom lip as I carefully extended one finger and dipped it down her slit and inside her vagina. I pushed slowly and it sank all the way in. My finger was surrounded by heat and wetness and the sides of her pussy seemed to clutch around it. My other hand continued to explore the outer lips, running up and down, inside and out, while I pushed that one finger in and out in a steady rhythm. I remembered the feel of Tara's breath on me from last night so I leant forward and blew gently on the exposed inner lips of Liz's pussy. She moaned again into her fist. The smell of her sex was getting stronger.

I ran my slick fingers up to the top of her slit and used them to slide the skin back off her clit and blew gently directly onto her clit. Liz's hips bucked up towards me, mashing her clit hard against my lips. My lips, having made the encounter, seemed to want to stay there, so they followed her hips as she dropped back to the bed and I sucked gently right on her clit. Liz seemed to explode. Her hips bucked under me, her vagina contracted around my finger and seemed to squeeze it in waves. I could feel her muscles twitching as spasms ran right though her body. I could hear some sort of muffled wail coming out from behind her fist. Then the wail stopped and Liz's body collapsed. She pushed me away from her crotch and I figured her clit was now feeling too sensitive to be touched. Liz was panting slightly as she tried to regain her breath, but apart from that her body seemed to be completely relaxed.

I could only just hear her whisper, "That was so beautiful, Bec. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

I tried to wipe a smear of Liz's wetness off my face, but realised my hands were covered with it. I grabbed some tissues from the shelf at the head of my bed and used them to clean myself up. Then I bent down and carefully wiped clean the top of Liz's thighs and softly tried to pat dry the whole area of her crotch which was slick and wet. Finally I dropped the used tissues into a waste bin beside my bed and lay back down beside Liz. Her breathing had become more even and her eyes were closed. The hand which had been in her mouth lay on the top of her chest, and I could see bite marks in her skin where she had bitten down to muffle her groans. It took me a moment to realize that Liz was asleep.

I grinned and pulled the blankets back up over the two of us. I snuggled up to Liz's side and draped one arm over her stomach. I laid my head down on the pillow and tucked my face in close to her hair so that I could just smell the soft, fruity fragrance of her favorite shampoo.

I felt warm and comfortable and proud of what I'd just done. I'd shared something wonderful with my best friend. Everything was good with the world.

I went to sleep with a smile on my face.



-------

Chapter 10 : Wednesday



I might have gone to sleep with a smile on my face but I didn't wake up that way. I woke up with a thump. No, that's not true. I woke up when I was falling. The thump came an instant later when I hit the ground.

"Ow!" I said. Or at least I think that's what I said, it might have come out more like a grunt. Then I clutched my face and said "Ow!" again. I'd landed face first onto one of my shoes which I'd normally kick under my bed, but obviously this one hadn't quite made it that far. The heel had quite effectively whacked me dead on my right eye, or should I say that my eye had landed dead on the heel, either way the effect was the same. I guess I should be grateful I don't own any shoes with pointy stiletto heels!

I pushed the hair out of my face with my spare hand and sat myself up. Liz was still fast asleep, all my thumping and grunting had obviously had no effect on her. She was spreadeagled over the entire bed, obviously occupying the space where I'd been sleeping up until a minute ago. Liz had just pushed me out of bed!

I was about to poke her awake and demand some space so I could get back in when I looked at my bedside clock. I had about fifteen minutes until it was time to get up for school anyway. Still holding my right eye with one hand — it was starting to throb — I went to my closet and grabbed a robe to put on. Then I selected an outfit to wear for the day and headed for the bathroom. It was a bit tricky getting through the doors — I was running out of hands — but I made it eventually.

The shower finished waking me up and since I was early, I figured it was a good chance to wash my hair properly. The hair conditioner bottle Tara and I used was getting close to empty so I made a mental note to add it to the shopping list that lived on the door of the fridge. I had to wipe the steam off the mirror so that I could check my eye. It looked like I was going to have a real shiner! I took my time drying and brushing my hair, and then I dressed and headed to the kitchen. I wrote up the brand of hair conditioner on the shopping list and added shampoo as well for luck and then I dug into the freezer to find a bag of frozen peas. Once wrapped in a tea-towel, those frozen peas felt heavenly against my still throbbing eye.

Back in my room, Liz hadn't moved. She was still sprawled across the entire bed like she owned it. I poked her in the ribs and shook her.

"Wakey, wakey, rise and shine." I stripped the blankets back off the bed, revealing Liz in all her naked glory.

Liz groaned and grumbled and one hand moved to drag some hair out of her mouth, and then wipe the sleep from her eyes. She blinked a couple of times then peered up at me.

"What time is it? I don't want to get up! What happened to you?"

"It's time to get up for school, and you happened to me. You pushed me out of bed and I fell on the floor, you little rat!"

She giggled a bit at that, but then stifled it. "But what happened to your eye? Did I hit you?"

"No! I landed on one of my shoes. It hurt like the dickens!"

She looked at me strangely, "I'm going to assume that means it hurt a lot!"

"Yeah! It hurt a lot! It hurt like the blazes! It hurt like Billy-O! I sodding well got hit right in the mince-pie! Or to put it in words an ignorant Yankee savage like you might understand, it fucking hurt!"

Liz did an exaggerated gasp, and then drew herself up and put a stern expression on her face.

"Rebecca Louise Freeman! I'm appalled that you would even know that word, let alone that you would use it in front of an innocent child like me!" She laid one hand delicately across her upper chest as she said that. Of course, the whole sweet and innocent act was completely ruined by the fact that she was sitting in my bed completely naked — and she knew it!

Then she started speaking in that Southern Belle type of accent. "Why I am quite certain that even as I sit here, innocent and pure, I can feel myself being corrupted by such vile language." Then she fluttered her eyelashes at me.

We both burst out laughing, and she slid off the bed and hugged me. She kissed my cheek and said sorry several times. I pretended I wasn't ready to let her off the hook yet though and I put my nose in the air and sniffed. Liz knew I was joking and started tickling my ribs until I had to dance back out of her reach.

I grabbed a robe for Liz to wear and held it out for her to slide into it.

"You better go and have your shower. If you leave it too long, Tara will get in the bathroom first and she takes forever! Maybe once you're clean and presentable, I might think about forgiving you. And once I've forgiven you for that, then we can talk about how you went to sleep last night in the middle of ... well ... everything!"

"Oh My God! I can't believe I did that. You just made me feel sooo good! I was just lying there, all relaxed and warm and fuzzy, and then suddenly it's morning and you're poking me and complaining about me pushing you out of bed."

I pushed Liz towards the bathroom and went to wake Tara. I shook Tara a few times until she started moaning and groaning and then I carefully stood back to allow her flailing fists to fly safely through the air. The last thing I needed was a second black eye to match the one I already had. Once I was convinced Tara was mostly awake I set her alarm clock to go off in five minutes at full volume and put it on her dresser, on the opposite side of the room from her bed. I know, it sounds like an evil thing to do, but Tara is not a morning person and I've had to wake her up for school often enough to know that half-measures just don't work.

I ducked into Angie's room to check on her, but amazingly she was still fast asleep. I checked her diaper and that was dry, maybe that explained why she was still sleeping. I figure wearing a wet diaper must feel totally gross and I certainly wouldn't be able to sleep in one, so I couldn't blame Angie for waking up early when she had a wet and stinky rag wrapped around her middle.

I headed to the kitchen to get breakfast ready and found Dad drinking a cup of tea. He looked at me, still clutching my bag of frozen peas to my eye.

"What happened to you? Did you and Tara have a fight?"

"No, Dad. I fell out of bed and hit my eye. It'll be fine. Angie's still asleep, Tara will be up in a moment, and Liz is just having a shower."

"Oh that's right! Liz stayed the night didn't she?"

"Jeez, Dad! I don't know how you'd forget that. You were the one who brought her into my room last night!"

"Oh, er, yes..." Dad mumbled something about having to go to work, put down his half finished cup of tea, picked up a piece of toast from his plate in one hand and his car keys in the other and hurried out of the room. I blinked after him a couple of times and then looked at the clock. It was still fifteen minutes before he usually had to leave. I shrugged. Sometimes The Parents are simply unfathomable!

I rolled that word around in my head several times — unfathomable! I liked that word. It sounded good in my head. I decided to try and use it three more times today! In the distance I heard Tara's alarm go off. I held my breath and a moment later heard a loud thump. I chuckled quietly to myself. At least now, I wasn't the only one who'd fallen out of bed this morning. I shoved the bag of peas back in the freezer and started arranging cereal and cooking toast.

Mom joined us for breakfast and made the predictable fuss about my black eye. It wasn't over the top fuss, it wasn't crazy-mom fuss, it was just the sort of fuss that any mom would make about her daughter having been hurt. I endured the fuss without complaining because I was secretly glad to have my mom back.

When Tara heard the story about what happened, she laughed herself silly. Then she started singing that children's song ... you know the one: "There were two in the bed, and the little one said, roll over, roll over. So they all rolled over and one fell out..."

Liz laughed and joined in, the traitor! Even Mom joined in. They all thought it was terribly funny. Okay, it was funny, but not as funny as they were making it out to be! I put my nose in the air and sniffed, trying hard not to laugh myself, and started clearing up the breakfast things.

All the way to school, sitting on the bus, Tara and Liz would look at each other then suddenly burst out singing "Roll over, roll over..."

Finally I glared at Liz, "I think I need a new friend!" Tara laughed at that, so I turned my glare onto her, " ... and a new sister! The people currently in those jobs are about to get the sack!"

Liz grinned and put her hand to her head, holding a pretend phone, "Hello? Is that rent-a-friend? Yes I want to place an ad. Special requirements? Yes, must have a bed close to the ground. You see she tends to fall out of bed all the time." We all laughed at that. Yes I laughed too — well it was pretty funny.

As we got off the bus at school I linked my arm through Liz's. "Well I can sack Tara as a sister 'cause I have a better one at home, but I might keep you as a friend for a bit longer."

"Hey!" yelled Tara, "I heard that!"

"You were meant to!" I responded and then I poked my tongue out at her. Tara poked her tongue back at me and then turned and headed off towards her class. I dug Liz in the ribs with my elbow. "But you better stop teasing me, or else..."

"Or else what?"

"Or else..." I held a pretend phone to my ear and put on an evil voice, "Hello? Miss Davidson? I have Dougal."

"Dougal? Not my Dougal?" She used a pitiful little voice and made big eyes at me.

"Yes, I have your Dougal. And I have him locked away where you won't ever find him! Mwahaha!" It was the best impression of an evil laugh I could manage.

"You would kidnap Dougal?"

"Totally! And worse. I have whips and chains and I'm not afraid to use them. Mwahaha!"

"Torture? You would torture poor little Dougal? But he's just a defenseless little fluffy bear. Okay! I give up! I surrender. I'll do anything. Just don't hurt Dougal."

"So you'll stop teasing me?"

She sighed, "Okay, if you insist!" Then she poked her bottom lip at me, "I can't believe you would threaten to torture Dougal!" Then she laughed at me. "You're totally crazy. You know that, don't you?"

We both laughed and with our arms linked together, walked into school.

-------

During the last period before lunch, I got a message to go see the principal, Miss Webster. It got me out of art, with Mrs Billings, so I didn't mind about that too much. Mrs Billings and I just didn't get along. She had just given me back another piece of artwork which she had graded as a C. I decided that the reason I wasn't getting better marks was unfathomable. Just then, the student monitor knocked on the door with the message for me to go to Miss Webster's office.

I didn't think I was in trouble, I couldn't think of anything I'd done wrong, so I was only a bit nervous when I knocked on the door to the principal's office and was called to enter. Inside with Miss Webster was the Student Welfare Officer, Mr Shankie. Mr Shankie is the roundest man I've ever seen in my life. I'm betting he does Santa somewhere each Christmas. He wouldn't need any padding, just a beard and the red suit and he'd be away. Not much of a lap for kiddies to sit on though, most of his lap is covered by his stomach. He's nice enough, I suppose, but if you put him in a line-up with all the other teachers and asked someone to pick the Welfare Officer, I doubt if he'd be the first pick, or the second!

Miss Webster cleared her throat. "Rebecca Freeman?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Please, take a seat."

I slid into the indicated chair and glanced between the two of them, trying to pick up why I might be here.

"I had a call from your father on Monday morning. He told me that there were some issues at home that might affect you and your sister here at school."

It hadn't occurred to me that Dad would do that, but I guess it made sense. I wondered how much he'd actually told her. "What did he say?"

"He let me know that your mother has had an ongoing mental health problem that hasn't been in evidence for a while, but that it has flared up over the last few days. He also mentioned that this had been a little upsetting for you and your sister."

"I guess!"

"Because of that phone call, I asked the faculty to keep an eye on the two of you and report to me any changes in your behavior or your work. From all reports, the two of you seemed to be largely unaffected, though perhaps a little more distracted than usual. Then I was shown this."

She reached into a folder on her desk and brought out a sheet of paper. She put it down on the table between us and I leaned forward to see it. It was my science test from yesterday. Reading upside down, I could make out a large 61% in a circle written in red ink near the top. I leant back in my chair and looked back at Miss Webster, trying to keep my face blank. That was actually better than I thought I'd done, but I was still pretty upset that I'd done so badly.

"I gather that's the first time you've scored below 90% on a science test. In fact, Rebecca, since you came to this school, you've consistently been an A student in all of your subjects, except, strangely enough, in art where you often receive Cs. Naturally I wondered if the disruption at home your father referred to had caused this drop in your usual standards."

Miss Webster stared at me and I realized she was waiting for a response. I hadn't heard a question, so I had to replay in my head what she'd just said. I pretty much agreed with everything, so I shrugged and said, "I guess."

"Well, is there some other explanation?"

I was looking down at the table. I was withdrawing in to myself. I could feel it happening. I could feel my good mood from the morning evaporating in the face of Miss Webster's stone faced glare. In the back of my brain, I wanted to be post-epiphany me, sitting up straight and looking the principal in the eye, but my body wasn't doing that. It was hunching down and staring down at the test paper sitting on the table. That test was pretty disappointing. Miss Webster was waiting for an answer. What could I say? Was there any other explanation?

I shrugged, "I guess not!"

"Rebecca, given the circumstances, I am prepared to schedule a make-up test for you. How does next Tuesday during your lunch period suit you?"

That was a surprise. I looked up at Miss Webster. Her face was maybe not completely hard — I wouldn't go so far as to say she was looking kind, but I think she was trying.

I licked my lips and hoped my voice would come out loud enough to be heard, "Thank you, Miss Webster. I would like that. Next Tuesday should be fine, thank you."

At least my voice had been loud enough they didn't ask me to repeat myself. I hate it when that happens to me. It happens all the time at school. I get all tongue-tied and quiet when everyone looks at me, so when I answer a question, sometimes the teacher has to tell me to repeat it. I really hate it when that happens. But this time they heard me so that was good. And I was going to resit the test so that was good. I guessed that was all and started glancing hopefully at the door, but Miss Webster had other ideas.

"I wonder if you can shed some light on why art is such a poor subject for you"

That was kind of a complete change of subject. I looked down at my hands for a moment while I reorganized my thoughts, and then I kind of shrugged. "I guess Mrs Billings doesn't like my choice of subject matter."

Miss Webster blinked at me, "Could you perhaps explain what you mean by that?"

I thought frantically, trying to pick an example that would explain what the problem was without me just saying "Mrs Billings is an idiot." I figured that wouldn't go down to well. Also I didn't think I'd be physically able to say something like that in front of the principal.

"One time she put a bowl of fruit on the table and asked us to draw it. While I was drawing, I saw an ant crawl across one of the apples. I drew that in, and then I guess I got carried away and put in a whole lot of bugs and worms and maggots crawling around in the fruit. I thought it was a pretty good drawing, but Mrs Billings said it was supposed to be real life and mine wasn't so she gave it a C. She said if I wanted a better mark I could do it again properly, but I didn't want to do that. I showed the drawing to Mom and she liked it, so..." I shrugged and left it at that. I respected Mom's opinion about art a heck of a lot more than I respected Mrs Billings'.

"I see!" Miss Webster blinked slowly at me. She lent forward and flipped the test over to reveal the mostly blank back, except for my scribble on the bottom half of the page. "Would you say this is about your normal standard of drawing?" She spun the sheet of paper around and pushed it towards me. I looked carefully at the picture I'd drawn. I hadn't really been thinking as I drew it so it was almost a surprise to me to see what I'd drawn.

I'd drawn myself, the post-epiphany version of me anyway, my face strong and determined. I'd drawn post-epiphany me breaking out of the mirror where I'd first seen myself and climbing my way through into the real world. Because it was only a pen drawing and because I'd only drawn the top half of me, you couldn't really tell that I'd drawn me naked, which was a bit of a relief given the number of other people who'd probably seen the picture — including Miss Webster and Mr Shankie.

Miss Webster was still waiting for an answer. I had to think to remember what her question was. I looked at the picture with a more critical eye and could see a few spots where I could have made it better, the hands for instance weren't that good, but overall I was pretty happy with it, given it was something I just did in twenty minutes. Miss Webster was still waiting for an answer, so I shrugged. "I guess."

"I showed this picture to Mrs Billings and she seems to agree with you. She said it was crude and sloppy and had little artistic merit and was typical of your work."

I snorted in disgust. Of course it was crude; it was a 20 minute scribble! As for artistic merit, while I didn't think my drawing had a lot of it, there was some there. I knew about artistic merit. Mom had been taking me to art shows of all different standards and discussing the art with me since before I could walk. I doubted if Mrs Billings would recognize artistic merit if it bit her on the bum!

Something in Miss Webster's tone of voice, when she relayed Mrs Billings' criticism of my drawing, suggested that she didn't approve of the comments, but that she was hiding that. I think there's this code amongst teachers, the good teachers anyway, that they try not to criticize each other in front of the students. I know that I respected Miss Webster more that day because she didn't criticize anyone, not Mrs Billings, and not me.

I sat there staring at my drawing. There was this huge argument going on inside my head. One part of my brain was cringing at the awful things Mrs Billings had said about my drawing and picking out bits of the drawing that supported her criticism, especially the hands which just weren't right. Another part of my brain wanted to yell and curse about how dare she say things like that about my drawing when she had shit for brains and couldn't draw her way out of a paper bag. With my brain so busy, my body just slumped down, trying to hide inside myself.

Some part of me became aware of Mr Shankie leaning forward and clearing his throat. Up until then, he'd just sat back and watched with his clasped hands propped on top of his rather round stomach.

"Putting aside questions of how good the picture is, I am more concerned with what the drawing seems to portray." His voice seemed surprisingly gentle and soft. The argument in my brain froze a moment as I paid more attention to what he was saying. I had no clue where he was going with this.

"You have drawn a girl, clearly recognizable as yourself, and looking quite afraid I might add..."

Huh? Afraid? I guess a little bit. It is scary after all, even for post-epiphany me, to climb out into the real world.

" ... and you have drawn yourself trying to escape through a broken window of what is probably your house..."

Huh? Say what? A window? My house? Where was he getting that from?

"Put that together with the fact that you have come to school today with a black eye, and the knowledge that your mother is suffering some sort of mental illness and it all suggests a very worrying situation to me."

I didn't get what he was saying at first. I was focussed on my picture. How could he have misunderstood it so much? A window?

He was pressing on, oblivious of my confusion. "Rebecca, look at me!" I looked — at least my eyes looked. I can't promise that my brain was following where my eyes were looking. "I want you to be very honest with me. Do you need to escape from your house?"

I wanted to explain my drawing to him. I wanted him to understand what it showed. That picture was important to me. It represented so much. I couldn't stand the idea that he had looked at it and completely misunderstood it. But there was so much to explain. How could I explain my epiphany without talking about the picture which inspired it? I didn't think I could describe that picture here in the principal's office.

"Rebecca, is your mother hitting you?"

The carefully worked out explanation I was developing in my brain dissolved into chaos. Huh? What did he say?

"It's a mirror!" I blurted out.

"I beg your pardon? Would you repeat that?"

Damn! Was I too quiet again? "It's a mirror! It's not a window, it's a mirror!"

Dimly I was aware of a look of horror on his face.

"Rebecca, did your mother hit you with a mirror?"

"Huh?!!" Finally what he was asking was sinking in to my confused brain. It was so bizarre — so ridiculous — I wanted to laugh in his face, I wanted to yell at him for suggesting such a thing, I wanted to scream! How could he say such a thing about my mother? I wanted to explain it all to him! Give some defense of my mom. But what could I say? I was so confused. My body didn't want to sit there and have a rational discussion though. My body wanted to crawl into a corner and hide inside itself and sob in horror. Why would my mother hit me?

Somehow I managed to overrule my body. I made it sit upright in the chair — fighting against an impossible weight that seemed to be pushing me down. I forced my back straight and pulled my shoulders back. With enormous effort, I lifted my head up until my chin was up and my eyes, shining with unshed tears, gazed directly at Mr Shankie.

"Rebecca if your mother is hitting you, we need to get you out of that house. We can put you into a foster home where you would be safe."

Did she hit me? How absurd? How stupid was he to even ask such a thing? A foster home? Why would you do that? I think that he could see the confusion on my face. I think he was starting to suspect he might have got it wrong. Desperately hoping my voice would work, I tried to answer his question.

"It's a mirror, see? You can see reflections in the pieces. It's me trying to crawl out through a mirror." My brain had been so busy getting me to the point where I could speak, it hadn't thought at all about what I should say. That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to know about Mom. What could I say?

"It's nothing to do with my mother." Maybe that was enough. It explained everything to me. Perhaps it would be enough for him. I hoped so. I didn't want to be put in a foster home. I wanted to scream out in terror but I had nothing left. I could feel the tears start to flow down my cheeks.

Miss Webster shifted in her chair. My head tracked around to her. I was staring at her through the blur of the tears in my eyes. She had her stone face on again.

"Perhaps we should've asked you to explain how you got the black eye."

My body was frozen in position. My brain was so busy holding my body upright, it couldn't spare anything for speaking. My voice echoed in the empty cavern inside my head: Yes! Yes, you should've asked. But you saw me with my eye all black and swollen and you assumed someone had hit me. And like Dad always says, "if you assume, you make an ass out of you and me." So here we are; three asses sitting around a table. Yes, you should have asked! But you didn't ask, did you? In fact you didn't say anything at all; it was all Mr Shankie. And he didn't do it the way you wanted him to, did he? You would have asked and he just assumed.

That was a revelation to me. Behind that stone face, Miss Webster was actually trying to do the right thing. It was Mr Shankie who'd made a mess of things. It was Mr Shankie who thought my mom had hit me. It was Mr Shankie who wanted to put me in a foster home. Miss Webster didn't want him to say that. I wanted to nod to her, smile at her, tell her I understood that it wasn't her, but my body was still locked in position. It wasn't ready to do much of anything but sit there. Tears slowly ran down my cheeks. A foster home?

Miss Webster still had a job to do. "How did you get your black eye, Rebecca? Did someone hit you?"

Somehow my head managed to shake "no!" at her. It was the tiniest of little shakes but she seemed relieved to see it. The shake had dislodged a tear from my cheek. It had flown through the air and landed with a wet splat on the back of my hand. My whole body flinched at the feel of it.

Her face got that slightly soft look again, "You have a sister here at school, is that right?"

Yes! A sister! Tara! Yes! Except I sacked her this morning! So she might not be my sister any more. But why are you still asking me questions? Can't you tell I'm doing everything I can just to sit here? Mom never hit me. It's not a window! I don't want to live in a foster home.

Apparently she could tell something, because after watching me for a moment and getting no response but extra tears, she quietly stood up and walked out the door. My eyes tracked her, but the rest of my body didn't move. My brain was whirling at a mile a minute, but with only an empty door to look at, it had time to think about something else. It thought about Mr Shankie, and how Mr Shankie accused Mom of hitting me. It thought about Mom, and how Mom had made all those paintings of me. Paintings of post-epiphany me! Different paintings that showed me what I could be like; one of me being sexy, one of me being strong and proud and confident, one that showed me having fun flying wildly through the air, and one that showed me being sporty. All those things and more were inside me already, just bursting to get out. Even from in the middle of her illness, Mom still loved me and was doing everything she could to help me grow. Didn't they realize that? Couldn't they see that? Mom never ever hit me, not ever!

None of her paintings showed me living in a foster home.

My brain thought about post-epiphany me, and it finally made the connection with the way I was sitting. In the fight over control of my body, the bit of my brain that wanted to run and hide had lost out to all the bits inside of me that was the new me. Here I was, sitting with my back straight and my shoulders back and my chin up. And it was happening here at school, in the Principal's Office. For the first time ever I was at school and sitting up and looking strong. The only thing wrong, the only thing wrecking that perfect picture were the tears that continued to flow silently out of my eyes.

My brain shouted at the tears, screamed at them, pleaded with them, but they obstinately continued to fall; sliding down my cheeks and dropping with huge splats into my lap. The other thing wrong with this perfect picture was that having got into this pose, I was frozen. I couldn't move a muscle. I didn't dare — if I moved, the other half would win and I would end up curled up in the corner like a little child after a nightmare.

A nightmare where a mother hits her daughter!

Miss Webster came back in and sat down at the table again. She reached out and pushed a box of tissues across the table to me. My eyes tracked the box of tissues across the table, and then flicked back to her face. The box of tissues sat there. My hands trembled on my lap but that was all. She wagged her head at Mr Shankie, and he stood and left the room. I hoped he wasn't coming back. He accused my mom of hitting me. My mom! And he thought the mirror was a window. A window? How could he think that? Didn't he see the reflections in the broken pieces?

I sat looking at Miss Webster and she sat looking at me. Yes, you should have asked how I got my black eye. My brain flicked back to waking up and hitting the floor. It flashed to the scene with me holding one eye and gazing down at Liz's naked body sprawled across my bed. I sat there, upright and poised, looking at Miss Webster. Stone face was gone. She was just a woman, sitting across the table from a crying girl. Trying to do her job, but bound up by some silly rule that stopped her reaching out and hugging me. I could see it in her eyes. She wanted to hug me and say she was sorry.

I don't know what she could see in mine. Could she see my memory of Liz? Do you have a friend like that, Miss Webster? Do you have someone to sleep beside and whisper secrets to? Do your boobs tingle and your pussy moisten like mine do at the memory of some furtive touch? Or at your age is that all in the past? Are the boobs and pussy gone, to be replaced by empty breasts and a clinical vulva? Maybe some of the tears rolling down my cheeks are for you, Miss Webster. You've met my mom; did you really think she would ever hit me?

There was a knock on the door and Miss Webster called out. The door opened and Tara stood in the doorway, looking at Miss Webster. My eyes tracked to Tara. Tara! I'm here! Please hold me! Please take my hand and lead me out of here.

"You asked to see me, Miss We ... Bec?" She'd seen me. She hesitated then came to me, reaching out, holding me. Yes Tara. Hold me.

"What happened? What's going on?" I let her voice wrap around me.

"Our interview with Rebecca did not go as well as it might have. I'm afraid she's ended up quite distressed."

Distressed? My brain giggled like a crazy person. I was about three steps beyond distressed.

Tara plucked a couple of tissues from the box and started dabbing at my face. Careful about my eye, Tara, it's all swollen and sore. Distressed?

"Interview about what? What did you say to her?" Tara was sounding angry. Defensive. Why? I guess that was obvious. She was defending me! Tara, you're defending me!

I felt my face smile a little trembley sort of smile and I felt Tara hold me and dry my face. The tears finally decided to stop. "About time!" mumbled some part of my brain. I sat watching Tara and let her conversation with Miss Webster wash around me like the waves wash around a rock on the beach.

"The interview covered a number of matters. Perhaps you could clear something up for me. Do you know how your sister ended up with that black eye?"

"She fell out of bed and hit her face. It was a silly accident. Why?"

"So no one hit her?"

"No, of course not!"

"Well that's a relief anyway!"

"Why? Did someone say she got hit?"

"Not exactly! There was this picture, you understand!"

"What picture? This picture? Did Bec draw this? Bec, you drew this? It's fantastic!"

"It's a picture of Rebecca, obviously, and there was some confusion about what it represented."

Silence, while Tara looked at my picture. "It's not really her! Well it is, but not really. You must know how Bec is around school. She's always so shy and quiet. She's more comfortable at home but she's always been shy, even at home. The other day, Mom stood her in front of the mirror and showed her what she could be like. I think for the first time Bec saw in the mirror the person she wants to be, and it kind of shook her up a bit I guess. And look! She's drawn that person trying to break out of the mirror. It's kind of awesome Bec! Is this you trying to become that person? Did I see this right?"

Tara understood my picture. She really understood it! I wanted to hug her. Squeeze her tight. I was hugging her. I was squeezing her. Oh Tara, my sweet sister, how could I cope without you? You're not fired! You can stay! My body relaxed against Tara's and I buried my face into her shoulder.

Freeing my body, also freed my voice, "Tara! He thought Mom had hit me!"

"What? Mom? Who said that? Was that you, Miss Webster? Mom has never hit us! Never!"

"Yes, well, it seems we were mistaken and for that I apologize."

"Too right you were mistaken! No wonder Bec was upset. You..." I managed to put my hand on Tara's mouth before she said anything more. I didn't want her getting into trouble about this and I was sure she was just about to say something that would land her in the deep end.

"Shhh! It wasn't Miss Webster. It was that Mr Shankie who said it, but it doesn't matter now, because he was wrong and he's left the room and it's over." I hugged Tara hard, squeezing her tightly so she would listen to me.

Miss Webster stood up, "I think I might leave the two of you alone for a moment." She nodded at me and walked out. What was the nod for? If I was right, she just nodded at me for defending her against Tara and putting the blame where it belonged. And maybe because I'd worked out it was just a stupid mistake and it was over. It was the nod of one person to another. Was this what the new me could achieve? The principal of my school, a woman who I somehow respected way more than I had an hour ago, had just treated me like a person, not like a child.

Wow!

I hugged Tara and she hugged me back. Everything was going to be fine. No foster home for me. The tears had stopped but inside I felt wrung out like a sponge.

Outside, the bell rang for the start of lunch. Soon a rumble started up in the hallways. It was like a herd of elephants was storming up and down outside the door.

Miss Webster knocked on the door and then opened it.

"Rebecca, I've spoken to your father. Under the circumstances, I thought it might be better if you went home for the afternoon. He told me someone would come to pick you up. You can wait at the school office until they arrive. Tara would you mind waiting with her? I will have the secretary write you a pass if you are going to be tardy to your next class."

"Thank you, Miss Webster." Tara managed to be polite this time.

"Yes, thank you." I picked up the test paper with my drawing on it. "May I keep this?"

"Certainly! Now if you don't mind, I need my office back."

She held the door open for us as we walked out. There were two boys standing outside the door; their faces bruised, their clothes a bit torn and dirty. It was pretty obvious what they'd been doing, but I just knew that Miss Webster wouldn't assume. She'd ask them what happened.

Tara escorted me to my book locker and helped me put some books in my bag. I had no idea what homework I had to do, so I just grabbed my mathematics book — math homework was pretty much a given. Tara promised to find Liz and get her to write down the homework for me. That reminded me that Liz was supposed to be coming home with me on the bus. Tara promised to ride home with Liz.

"Will you tell her sorry for me? We were supposed to ride the bus together. Tell her I've been sliding down that slippery slope again."

"Sure I'll tell her. She'll understand. I like Liz. She's a good friend for you."

"Yeah! She is!"

We sat together on the bench at reception. I clung onto Tara's hand and squeezed it.

"Hey! Since this morning, I've had an opening for a position as big sister. You seem to fit the bill. Are you interested in the job?"

She laughed and squeezed my hand.

"You idiot!"

"Does that mean you'll take the job?"

"I want a pay rise."

"I'll double what I pay you now."

She grinned at me.

"Okay! I'll be your sister. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it."

We sat there on the bench holding hands. Two sisters looking so alike we could be twins, but so different from each other. I thought of all the times we'd fought with each other, helped each other, argued, bitched, laughed, teased and cried with each other. I tried to imagine a life without my sister.

It was unfathomable.



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Chapter 11 : Wednesday Afternoon



Mom arrived at school with her own version of stone face on. Her stone face is a kind of half-smile that fools a lot of people into thinking she's being nice. They relax and think they're safe and then she lashes out with vicious swipes and they find themselves spurting metaphorical blood from dozens of wounds — metaphorical wounds that is. Tara and I weren't fooled. We'd seen that smile enough to recognize it. Mom was angry and the smile was just pasted over her face like a mask to hide her anger from the world.

Angie had toddled after Mom into reception, but when she saw Tara and me sitting there, she bolted across the room towards us and took a flying leap into our arms. Angie immediately started telling us this story about some scary man in the car park. Mom glanced at us then marched over to the receptionist to sign the form saying she had collected me.

Eventually Tara and I between us managed to figure out that Angie was talking about the school's security man who apparently had objected to where Mom parked her car. From what we could tell from Angie's garbled account, Mom had told him where he could stick his rules!

While Mom was at the reception desk, Miss Webster came out to talk to her. Miss Webster had stone face on and I could see Mom's half-smile get half-smileyer (is that a word?). I figured things were about to get seriously bad. Normally I wouldn't mind seeing Mom face off with the school. Line up every teacher in the school on one side and put Mom on the other side and I'd be betting on Mom every time, with very few survivors. The problem was, with what they thought about Mom at the moment, if she charged in with all claws out it would probably make things worse and not better. And I had to keep coming to school each day.

I left Angie with Tara sitting on the bench and I went to stand beside Mom. As soon as I left Tara, and therefore had to let go of her hand, my own hand felt empty and lost. In those few steps between Tara and Mom I already felt myself get trembley from not having someone to hold onto. As soon as I got to Mom I slid my hand into hers and the trembles started to go away again. I thought I'd mostly gotten over that meeting but apparently I hadn't.

Mom squeezed my hand but apart from that kept her attention on Miss Webster. Mom was in the middle of asking Miss Webster for an explanation of how she had come to be accused of hitting me based purely on the evidence of my black eye. Miss Webster started an apology but Mom cut her off.

"I saw on my way in that the Forentz boy is on crutches this week. Did you call him into your office and grill him about whether his mother hit him? Last summer Tara fell during a track meet and had her arm in a sling for three days. I didn't hear any nonsense then about me hitting my children. What's different now that made you assume my Bec had got her black eye from the blunt end of my fist?"

Miss Webster cleared her throat slightly but the stone face didn't slip. "Well, we were told that there were some issues with your mental health this week and..."

Again Mom cut her off, "And are you an expert on mental health? No? Well neither am I, but what little I do know tells me there are a hell of a lot of people out there with mental health problems and very, very few of them become violent."

Miss Webster nodded, "Yes, Mrs Freeman, I accept that and once again I apologize that our meeting didn't go as well as it should."

I was standing there listening to Miss Webster take the blame when it was Mr Shankie who did all the stuffing up. I couldn't work out why she would do that. I wanted to stop Mom from blaming Miss Webster.

"Mom, it was Mr Shankie who said all that stuff. Miss Webster didn't say anything, it wasn't her fault."

"And who is this Mr Shankie?"

"Mr Shankie is our Student Welfare Officer, Mrs Freeman."

"Student Welfare?" Mom snorted in disgust. "And is this Mr Shankie more of an expert on mental illness than you are?"

"Mr Shankie has completed the appropriate training courses to fill the role of Student Welfare Officer."

Mom snorted again, "Student Welfare? It sounds like this Mr Shankie shouldn't be in charge of the welfare of a rabbit, let alone the welfare of hundreds of children."

Miss Webster didn't respond. She was standing very still. Not just her face was stone, her whole body was. I realized that she'd given a non-answer to Mom's question. I also realized she wasn't going to respond to Mom's comments. Anything she said would either be a criticism of Mr Shankie and she wasn't going to do that or would be defending Mr Shankie when she knew he was wrong, and she wasn't going to do that either. So Miss Webster had no choice but to stand there and impersonate a statue and let Mom rant at her.

"I still don't understand how he could jump to such a conclusion based on just ignorance about mental illness and a black eye."

"There was my picture too, Mom."

"What picture?"

I had to go fetch it out of my book bag which was sitting on the bench beside Tara and Angie. Angie was sitting on Tara's lap playing with the collar on Tara's top and talking about some butterfly she'd seen. Tara gave me a smile, so I kind of smiled back and then hurried back to Mom. Somehow I managed to do all that without getting the shakes.

I held out the paper and Mom took it from me and looked at the picture. I looped one hand around her elbow and held on. That felt better.

"Mr Shankie didn't understand it. He thought it was me trying to escape through a window. That's why he thought something bad was happening."

Mom didn't say anything. She just kept looking at the picture. I could see her eyes flicking around all the details of the drawing. She'd shifted into art mode and was looking at it like it was done by some artist.

"I did it on the back of that science test I told you about. I knew I did badly." I turned the paper over in her hands so she could see the mark. I felt another twinge in my brain as I saw again how bad the mark was.

"Never mind about that now; I'm sure you'll do better next time." With that, she turned the paper back so she could finish looking at the picture.

"Miss Webster has scheduled a make-up test for me next week."

"That was good of her. I hope you said thank you."

I rolled my eyes at Mom. She'd said it so automatically, like she always did. Maybe when I was six I needed reminding, but ever since then I'd been so well trained that of course I had said thank you. That never stopped her reminding me though!

"This brings up another issue I have with this school." Mom held out the picture to Miss Webster. "Can you explain to me how any child who draws like this can be given a C grade for art?"

"Mrs Billings has assured me that the grades Rebecca has been given have been appropriate."

"Mrs Billings!" Mom frowned as she tried to remember something. "Is that Eva Billings?" Miss Webster nodded. "I recall seeing only one piece by Eva Billings at art shows in the last few years. It didn't sell. It didn't sell because it lacked passion. That display of student work I just walked past in the entrance had the same problem. No passion. This..." Mom waved my picture at Miss Webster. "This has passion! And Eva Billings grades the artist who drew this with a C!" Mom snorted in disgust — again.

I blinked a couple of times. Mom had just called me an artist! I looked at Miss Webster and figured she wasn't going to reply to that either. I pushed at Mom. "Can we leave now? I want to go home." I glanced over at Tara and wagged my head at her. Tara scooped Angie up in her arms, picked up my book bag and headed over to us.

Mom glanced at me and nodded, and then looked back at Miss Webster. In the space of that quick glance, I could feel Mom relax a bit. Mom's half-smile was gone and there was now a more pleasant look on her face.

"I expect Rebecca will be back at school tomorrow. Before we leave, could I please get a message to Elizabeth Davidson?"

"Elizabeth Davidson?" Miss Webster frowned in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Elizabeth's father is out of town. She's staying with us for a couple of days. With Bec leaving early, I just wanted to make sure she knew that we would still be expecting her this afternoon."

"I'll tell her, Mom," put in Tara while she transferred Angie to me and handed Mom my book bag. "It's already sorted. I'll catch up with her after class and ride the bus home with her."

Miss Webster nodded at Tara. "If you wait with me for a moment, I'll get her paged so you can talk to her before classes start." The bell for the end of lunch period chose that moment to ring. "Ah! Well, we shall try not to make you too late for class anyway."

Angie clung tightly around my neck and tucked her head over my shoulder as I settled her astride my hip. I had to shift her arms a bit so I didn't choke but it was really nice to have her holding me like that so I just stood there with my hip tilted to hold her weight and enjoyed the warmth of her little body hugged against mine.

Mom turned to Tara. "I'll see you this afternoon. Stay out of trouble. I don't think either Miss Webster or I could survive another meeting today." Mom's smile had turned slightly ironic. Tara rolled her eyes at Mom. Mom had been in several conferences with Miss Webster about Tara. It was usually because of something Laura DiMartino had got her to do — not that either Mom or Miss Webster seemed to have worked that out.

Mom reached out and shook hands with Miss Webster. "It was nice talking to you again, Miss Webster. We should talk more often."

Miss Webster's stone face was a bit less severe. "Thank you for sharing your concerns with me, Mrs Freeman."

I glanced between the two of them. It was like two opposing sportswomen shaking hands after a game. They'd both played as hard as they could but now the game was over so they shook hands and said how well the other one had played. Was that what this had been? Had this been a game to Mom and Miss Webster? No it hadn't! Mom was really angry when she arrived. She'd told Miss Webster what she thought and Miss Webster had listened, just like she was supposed to, so now Mom was calmer. Mom obviously knew that and didn't mind. In fact I could see now that Mom respected Miss Webster too. Maybe that was part of the job of Principal — to listen to angry parents and calm them down. If it was, Miss Webster had just done a good job with Mom. I thought of the times Mom had been angry with me and wished I could do it as well as Miss Webster. I wanted to shake her hand too, but that would have felt just a bit weird.

We split up. Tara and Miss Webster went to the reception desk and Mom and I headed out the school entrance. We only made it as far as the art display though. Mom waved at the board covered with student art.

"You see? No passion."

"How do you put passion into a bowl of fruit, Mom?" I asked, pointing at the handful of nearly identical pictures all grouped together. They all had a little red A prominently marked in one corner.

"Well, you did it by putting in flies and maggots." Mom grinned at me.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Yes, but apart from that!"

Mom steered me so I was standing in front of the fruit pictures. I hoped I wasn't in for a long lecture because I was carrying Angie. Angie wasn't that heavy and she wasn't wriggling around so it wasn't too bad, but...

"Look at these. Which one of them is the best — artistically?"

I looked. Mom and I had been through this routine dozens of times at art shows. This was the first time I'd had to judge my own classmates' work though. I looked. They were all just pictures of fruit piled up in a bowl. There was not much there to get excited about. I saw that one of them was by Liz. I wanted to pick hers out of sheer loyalty, but hers was just like the others. My eyes were drawn to one and I pointed it out.

"Good! I agree. That one definitely deserved its A. What made you choose it?"

"I like the way the shadows curve under the edges of the fruit and also there are some little dimples and marks; imperfections in the fruit. They make the fruit look realer than the others."

"Yes indeed. Though I wish you would use a better word than 'realer'! The fruit in that picture looks real. It makes me want to pick up the apple and take a bite. Appetite is an emotion. Real food makes us think about eating. Plastic imitation food does nothing for us. The rest of these pictures are drawings of plastic food."

"I get that." I peered closer to read the name of the student. I had to peer because it was in tiny print. "April Bohm! She's pretty good at drawing. She does these beautiful little horses all across her workbooks. The teachers sometimes get cross at her because of them but she keeps doing them so mostly they've given up complaining." I didn't know much else about April, except that she looked asian despite her name! I was pretty sure there was a story behind that; I just didn't know what it was.

"There you are! There's her passion. Teenage girls and horses! It's a stereotype because it's so often true. Thankfully you two have mostly been free of that particular passion. Our backyard is far too small for a Shetland Pony, let alone a proper horse."

With that, Mom turned and led me out of the school.

I quickly worked out why the school's security guy was upset. Mom had parked in the no-parking zone right in front of the front doors. He was still hovering there when we came out of the school.

Mom glared at him. "I hope you aren't expecting a tip for guarding my car while I was inside!"

He stuttered something and seemed to suddenly remember he needed to check the back of the school and hurried off. Mom barked a short little laugh at his retreating back and then opened the door for me so I could put Angie into her seat.

"Did you notice?" Mom asked.

"Huh?"

Mom lent past me and flipped up Angie's dress, revealing a pretty pair of pink panties with kittens all over them. "See? Proper knickers!" Then she tucked the dress down again, tickled a half-asleep Angie under the chin and moved around to the driver's side of the car so she could get in.

I wasn't surprised, so a bit of my brain must have noticed when I was holding her but I hadn't noticed noticed — if you know what I mean.

"Peter told me she's going to the potty properly since Saturday. I'm impressed. Pretty much overnight she's potty trained. You took weeks and weeks! I figured I'd try her without nappies and see how she goes."

"Mom we're in America now! They're called diapers. If you walk in to a shop and ask for nappies, no one will know what you mean. I think 'nappies' means something else here."

"I don't walk into a shop and ask for anything. I walk into the supermarket and there they are on the shelf. I think to myself 'I need some nappies' and I throw them in the trolley. They're labelled diapers and that reminds me I'm in America, but they still look the same. They still work the same too. They're made by the same company for heaven's sake."

I rolled my eyes at Mom and did up my seat belt.

"Why? What else does 'nappy' mean?"

"Um! I think it's rude or something." To be honest I didn't know. I just heard it being used about some people at school in a way that sounded like an insult. It didn't make sense at the time.

Mom raised an eyebrow at me and then shook her head. She did her own seatbelt up as she muttered to herself about needing to buy an American dictionary.

As I sat there, I felt like something was missing. I reached out and rested my hand on Mom's thigh. That felt better. She dropped her hand over mine and squeezed it, and then put both hands back on the wheel so she could steer the car out onto the street.

"I guess you were pretty upset in that meeting with Miss Webster and Mr Student Welfare?"

"Yeah, I guess. Mr Shankie started going on about putting me in a foster home and I kind of freaked out."

Mom slammed the brakes on and pulled into the side of the road — completely ignoring the sudden honking from an annoyed driver behind us. Once the car was stopped, she twisted in the seat so she was looking straight at me. Her half-grin was back.

"He what?" Her voice was low and calm. That dangerous sort of calm that they talk about in movies before the storm hits or before the big battle starts. That sort of calm!

"He was convinced you were hitting me so he was saying that if it was true I'd be put in a foster home." I figured I'd better calm Mom down before she turned the car around and drove us back to the school and did something extreme. "I wanted to tell him that if you ever did hit me, I'd pretty much be in hospital for a month, but I figured that would be a bad thing to say." I managed a little grin at her to tell her I was joking. "I was pretty upset then but I'm mostly okay now." I tried to look calm as I turned and faced forward, looking out the window at the trees beside the street. That's the direction I was facing, but every bit of me was paying attention to Mom and her reactions. The trembles had come back so I guess I wasn't mostly okay but I wasn't going to tell her that.

She held her breath for a moment, and then out of the corner of my eye, I could see her relax a bit and breathe out steadily. Then she grinned. "You're right, that would probably not have been a helpful thing to say." She paused, "And Mr Shankie was right too. If a child is being beaten at home it's his job to call in the protection agencies."

That surprised me. I thought about it and I realized that Mom was right. It also surprised me that she went from being mad to saying he was right so quickly. I hoped that I helped her do that. I decided that it didn't matter that he was right — he still stuffed up the way he did it.

Mom picked my hand off her thigh, lifted it to her mouth, kissed it and then returned it to her leg. "Also if I ever hit you, with the way your father and brother are so protective of you, I would probably end up in the hospital bed next to yours."

We grinned at each other. Then Mom's face got serious. "Honey, I'm not one of those people that preach about how violence is always wrong. If you get attacked and don't think you can talk your way out of it you should bloody well fight back with everything you have. If you see someone who needs defending, you do it however you can. In a violent situation it's really hard to think clearly, but try to remember that your brain is always your best weapon. Use it first! And if you have to hit someone, make it count! A person's head is really hard. Aim for something softer!"

Mom looked at me steadily and I nodded. I knew where she was telling me to aim — especially if it was a guy!

"The sort of hitting that Mr Welfare was talking about is completely different. He's not even talking about a few smacks on the back of your legs which I might be prepared to do if you ever did something so outrageous that you deserved that. He's talking about full on belting you. I can't imagine ever being so out of control that I would hit one of you like that. There's nothing about my condition that would make me do something like that either. You understand that don't you?"

"I understand Mom. I completely knew all that today in that stupid meeting. What freaked me out was the idea I might not be able to convince Mr Shankie and Miss Webster. I was all panicked that no matter what I said, they'd take me away from you. I was so scared I could hardly move. I could hardly talk." I snapped my mouth shut. Damn I didn't mean to say that. This might set her off again. I looked at her carefully, and then relaxed a bit because she was just sitting there looking at me with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"And all of this because he misunderstood that picture you drew?"

"Yeah!"

"Honey, it's a very good drawing. It's really well-drawn and insightful as well."

I shrugged. "The hands aren't right! And the reflections in the pieces of broken mirror don't show up very well, and it only shows the top half of me — it kind of fades out below my navel."

Mom nodded at me. "That might be true, but it's still a very good drawing. Perfection usually takes a little longer. Everyone finds hands hard to draw; that's normal. There are a few tricks I can show you to get your hands looking more realistic. After that it just takes practice; lots and lots of practice."

Mom sat drumming her fingers on the steering wheel and looking out the front window for a moment. She was obviously thinking hard about something. I had no clue what, so I had no choice but to sit there and watch the traffic whiz past us.

"Honey, I have an important question for you."

I looked at her curiously, "Okay!"

"How important is your art to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you feel driven to always be drawing something? Or is drawing something you like to do just as much as you like to play basketball and fight with your sister and all those other things you like to do?"

"I don't 'like' to fight with Tara. I just sometimes can't help it. Why are you asking?"

"If you are going to be an artist, I should find a proper art teacher for you. Or get you into a school which specialises in teaching art properly. I don't think Eva Billings has a lot to teach you. If you want to be a person who does something else but is good at art, then I'll teach you what I can for now and we'll take pot luck that you get a decent art teacher when you get to high school."

My head whirled. It was a big decision Mom was asking from me. I wasn't ready for it. "Mom, can I think about this for a while?"

"Sure honey. Just take your time. There's no rush. In the meantime, you and I will make some art together from time to time. It'll be fun!"

"I'd like that, Mom."

"Wonderful!" Mom glanced over her shoulder at Angie. "Well, Angie's asleep and we have nowhere we have to be in a hurry. There's no time like the present. Open the glove box for me honey."

I opened the glove box in front of me and sure enough, tucked inside were one of Mom's sketchbooks, a handful of pencils and an eraser. I handed the sketchbook and two of the pencils to Mom, then dived into my book bag that was tucked under my feet, hoping to find something I could use. I didn't have a sketchbook with me, of course. All I had was the workbook I use for math — it would have to do. I opened my workbook to a blank page and put it flat on my lap.

"Okay, Mom, what do you want me to draw?"

"Well, turn about is fair. How about I have a go at building on your idea of a bowl of fruit, and you develop something from my current theme."

"Mom, your current theme is me!"

"Precisely!" She grinned at me.

I glared at her. Did I ever mention Mom can be evil? Yep, this was my mom being normal. Nothing of this was her condition. That was gone for now. I had my mom back. And my mom can be evil. I shook my head and figured I might as well do what she wanted.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe evenly. I told my brain to forget about Mom's paintings of me and let it sort through other images of me from the last week or so. It was like watching a fuzzy slideshow of me! Me eating a multi-colored breakfast. Me having a naked shower with Dan and Tara. Me playing basketball — no, Mom had already done that. Me hiding alone in my closet. Me trying on that prom dress. Me sitting naked at my computer. Me sitting in the Principal's office. Me. Mom wanted me to draw me.

I chose that prom dress. It was gorgeous. It made me look glamorous, older, more like a woman. It made me look beautiful. That fit Mom's real theme too. Her theme wasn't really me; it was all the different bits inside of me. It was about the future me; the woman I might become. Me looking elegant was something that was maybe in the future; wearing a dress like that was maybe in the future. I could see it clearly in my head now, projected against the inside of my skull like an old fashioned slide against a screen. Me standing in front of the mirror, wearing that dress, with my breasts enhanced with tissues so the bust of the dress stood out properly and didn't just flap emptily.

I opened my eyes and started to draw. Mom was already drawing busily beside me. We sat there in the front seat of the car, pulled up at the side of the road, traffic zooming past us, Angie asleep in her seat behind us. It must have looked a bit weird. I didn't care. I was drawing.

Apparently someone cared. The knock on the window was so sudden it made me squeak. I sensed Mom jump a bit as well. It was a police officer knocking on the window. His car was pulled up behind us with its lights flashing. Mom wound down the window. The officer was looking curiously into the car, looking at me — obviously wondering why I wasn't in school, and looking at Angie now stirring in her seat.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"No! No problem at all!"

"We had a call from a resident. They reported a suspicious car sitting outside their house."

"Suspicious? I'm just giving my daughter an art lesson. See?" Mom held up her sketchbook for the officer to see. I had a quick flash of a pencil drawing of a bowl of fruit. Was she finished already? I was only half done.

The officer looked at the picture then looked around in front of us, obviously looking for the bowl of fruit that she'd drawn. Not finding anything like that on the busy street, he looked back at Mom.

"Is it necessary for you to do that here, ma'am?"

"I wanna go potty," came Angie's voice from the back seat.

Mom shrugged at the officer. "I guess that means it's time for us to move. I'm sorry for the trouble, officer."

"You have a good day, ma'am."

Mom handed me her sketchbook and pencils, started the car and pulled out into the traffic. The policeman just stood there shaking his head quietly to himself. I looked at Mom's drawing. It was just a grey-lead pencil drawing so there was no color, but she'd clearly drawn exactly the same bowl of fruit we'd all had to draw, even though she'd never seen it. She'd drawn it like April Bohm had drawn it — with shadows and a few spots and imperfections. It did look like you could just pick up the apple and take a bite. The difference was that Mom's bowl of fruit sat on a table in front of a mirror. The mirror showed a reflection of the fruit — from the back. The back of the fruit was all rotted away and was crawling with maggots. Biting into that apple would leave a really bad taste in your mouth. Mom had done just what she said she would. She'd taken my idea and developed it. I sat there looking at Mom's picture and shook my head in awe. I had so much to learn. I needed to do so much practice.

"Let's get some lunch," Mom said as she pulled the car into a parking spot. Mom picked up my math book and pencils as I unstrapped Angie from her seat and lifted her out. She was demanding the potty so I hurried a bit. We entered the little deli and split up. Mom went to the counter to order some food and I hurried to the back with Angie to find the toilets. The bathroom was tiny but clean. The cubicle was a bit cramped and they didn't have a child sized toilet seat, but with some help from me, Angie managed pretty well. Then she had to wait, holding onto my knee while I used the toilet as well. We washed our hands — well, I washed our hands — and we went back out to join Mom at a table.

Mom took charge of Angie and silently handed me my math book and the pencils. I got back to drawing. As usual I was having trouble with the hands. The dress had matching gloves, but there are still hands inside the gloves so that doesn't make them easier. I erased them a couple of times and started again. Mom saw what I was doing and quietly gave me some tips. Mom had ordered sandwiches and fruit juice for us and the lady arrived with our food just then. The lady asked if we wanted anything else and Mom said yes. Before she knew it, the waitress was standing there holding her dress out with one hand so I could see directly how the fingers went when she was gripping the dress. I felt sorry for her being made to model for me. Yep, I had my mom back.

Mom made the poor lady stand there while I drew her hands, until another customer rescued her. Finally I had the hands done reasonably well and I started putting the finishing touches on the rest of my drawing. I nibbled on my sandwich with one hand and kept drawing with the other. Mom had her hands full, feeding Angie as well as herself. Angie was getting wriggly. A couple of times she tried to make an escape through the deli and then outside. Both times Mom had to chase after her and bring her back to the table.

I sat back and looked at my drawing as I sipped my fruit juice. It was more or less finished. I could keep fiddling with bits — adding details here and there, but mostly it was finished. I'd drawn me in the mirror again, because that's how I'd seen myself. But this time I stayed securely behind the glass. I was pretty happy with how I'd captured the elegance of the dress. The detail of the bodice and the full body of the skirt was all there. I had one hand holding it out to the side and was clearly swishing it to make the fabric curl just a little rather than falling straight to the floor. I'd drawn the new me again — full of poise and confidence. I'd even put my hair up in a fancy do on the top of my head and added little dangly earrings.

I showed Mom the drawing and she nodded in approval. Then we headed home. At home, Mom raided her supplies for a huge roll of paper. She tore off a strip that was about two feet wide and five feet long. She spread it out for me on the kitchen table.

"Now I want you to repeat your sketch on this. You're making it close to life size. Remember it's still a sketch, so don't try to put more details into it. Just expand the one you already drew." Mom propped my math book with my earlier drawing in front of me, picked Angie up under one arm and left me to it. In one sense, it was easy to do; the hardest part was just keeping everything in proportion to each other. I had to erase and start over in a few sections but mostly it all happened pretty quickly. Even the glove-covered hands were easier this time. Drawing it full-size made the sketch look very rough. My fingers itched to put in more detail but Mom had said I shouldn't. I wondered why she wanted me to do it like that.

I went looking for Mom and found her in my bedroom. Angie was playing with some blocks in the middle of the portable play pen Mom had set up next to my bed. Mom had sanded back the two doors to my closet and covered them with a coat of flat white paint. "Since you made your drawing a mirror, I thought what better place to put a picture of a mirror than on the door of a closet."

"Are you going to stick my sketch onto my closet door?" I asked in confusion.

"No! You're going to paint a version of your sketch onto your closet door."

"Me? Paint?" I gestured around the room at all of Mom's paintings. "But it will look out of place. I'm not nearly as good as you."

"Yes, you! And it won't look out of place. Firstly, it fits beautifully with the theme, secondly you are good enough to do a painting here and thirdly this is your room so you should absolutely do a painting in here."

"I did some painting. I painted that wall." Okay I knew she wasn't talking about that sort of painting, but I guess I was just being stubborn. Mom knew it too.

"Rebecca Louise Freeman, you can stop being difficult this instant. You will paint a version of your picture on that closet door and that is final."

Ever since I was little I've had wrestling matches with Dan. Because he's so much bigger, the only way they don't end with me pinned helplessly on the floor is when he decides to let me win. When Mom has made up her mind that I'm going to do something, arguing with her is a bit like wrestling with Dan. The only way I can win is when Mom, for some reason, decides to let me win. The only real question is how long am I going to argue before I do what she wants. Today I didn't have much argument in me so I just stood there and sighed at her.

Mom handed me a paint brush and started explaining how to paint something so that it looked like a mirror as opposed to drawing a mirror. She pinned up my big version of the sketch next to me and I started painting.

Painting with oils is hard, really hard. Much harder than using the water-color paints we used at school. The paint blends colors differently and it comes off the brush differently, but on the plus side, it ends up looking better. This wasn't the first time I'd painted with oils but I wasn't experienced at all. Mom helped me a lot, talking me through different things, but she always let me do it myself. Every time I made a mistake, and I made quite a few, I had to scrape the paint away and start that bit again. It took a lot of concentration and it took a long, long time.

I felt like I'd barely started when I became aware of Liz hovering beside me. She'd finished school for the day. I smiled at her and we exchanged greetings. I was wearing an old business shirt of dad's over my clothes to protect them from the paint. The sleeves were rolled up and it was so big it came down nearly to my knees. We had to do a kind of long distance hug and kiss with me holding my paint brush and palette out to the sides and leaning forward so I wouldn't get paint on her clothes. Liz wanted to know if I was okay and I said I was. Then I thought about it and realized I really was okay. Mom had effectively distracted me for the whole afternoon by challenging me to draw and then paint. And I still had a lot of painting to do.

I painted and Liz watched me. She hadn't seen the sketch I was painting from of course, and she said nice things about that. Then she wanted to know about the dress I was painting and so I told her the story about shopping for clothes for my 'date' with Dan tomorrow night. I told her how Mom had wanted to buy me this prom dress and how she had made me try it on. We both had a laugh about the idea of going to the basketball dressed like that. Then she watched me while I painted some more. After a bit, Liz asked if she could use my computer to do her homework. I pointed at it with the back of my paintbrush and told her to knock herself out. I told her my password (Angel4) so she could log on and then left her to it while I went on painting.

-------

I became aware that Liz had spoken to me but I hadn't heard what she said. She called my name a couple of times.

"What?"

"What's the name of that thing your mother has?"

"Um ... Lambrecht's Syndrome ... I think!"

"Oh!" I heard her typing on the computer. "Did you know Lambrecht is a village in Germany?"

"No! I figured it was probably the name of the doctor that discovered it. Or the first patient who they worked out had it or something."

"I did a search! It's all in here. Apparently some guy living in that village was like your Mom. The doctors all decided it was a thing, so they called it Lambrecht's ... There's more ... oh!"

She went quiet. She was obviously reading. I went back to painting.

-------

I stepped back from my painting. I had a problem but I knew how to fix it. The dress had a bodice that fitted tightly and was covered with this patterning. On my little sketch, I'd suggested the patterning by little swirls, but that wasn't good enough for my full sized painting. I couldn't remember enough of the detail of the pattern to get it right. Of course I could have just made up some random pattern but I refused to do that. I wanted to do it right. I needed to go back and see that dress.

I looked around and Liz wasn't in the room, neither was Mom! I picked up my math book and pencils and went searching. I found them all sitting around the kitchen table. Angie was sitting on Liz's lap and playing with some magnetic ball things that clicked together to make shapes. Angie was just putting them together over and over to make the clicking sound. My mother and my sister were telling Liz stories about me and some of the dumb things I'd done. Some of them weren't even my fault but I figured it was pointless trying to defend myself. They would just laugh. I knew some stories about Tara that I could tell her friends but I didn't like her friends so I would never do that. At least they stopped when I came into the kitchen. Everyone looked at me with friendly smiles. I guess I didn't mind that much about the stories. Liz was pretty much part of the family. She already knew a long list of embarrassing stories about me.

I told Mom I needed to go to the mall to see that dress in the shop window. Amazingly she said okay straight away and got up to grab her keys. Tara said something about getting supplies for dinner at the same time. Apparently Tara and Liz were going to make dinner for us. Mom didn't want to leave me alone in the mall for some reason, so Liz volunteered to come along and stay with me. That left Tara to stay at home and look after Angie. Liz came over to me and unbuttoned the big shirt I had on. I'd forgotten I was wearing it. I slipped it off and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. That left me wearing the same clothes I'd worn to school that morning, I guess that was suitable for the mall. I reminded myself to change when I got back home.

In the car, Liz wanted to talk about my meeting with Miss Webster and Mr Shankie. I didn't really have much to say about it so I just clutched my math book to my chest and listened to her have a rant about how useless Mr Shankie is. I realized I had drying paint on my hands, but I soon figured out I could rub most of the paint off. That left my hands just stained with color rather than all painty. I kept rubbing but the color didn't rub off. Liz watched me rubbing my hands.

At the mall we separated. Mom went shopping for groceries while Liz and I headed for the dress shop. The prom dress was still on display in the window just like I remembered it. It fitted the store dummy perfectly of course; I guess they make them that way. Liz ooo'd and ahhh'd at the dress while I flipped my math book open to a blank page and started sketching the detail of the patterning on the bodice. That didn't take long so I also did little sketches of the finish around the bust line and around the tops of the gloves. I also took careful note of how the bodice joined onto the body of the skirt with a little 'v' shape at the front. I closed my eyes and pictured my half finished painting and was pretty happy that I'd got the color right, but I took careful note of the way the patterning of the bodice made it look darker than the skirt and the gloves. Liz leant against the window and watched me while I sketched and made notes.

An attendant in the store was glaring at me. I don't know what she thought I was doing. Maybe she thought I was stealing the dress-pattern and was going to make my own version of the dress on the cheap instead of paying for theirs. That's a laugh. I wouldn't even know how to begin making a dress like that.

I thanked the store-dummy for modelling the dress for me so nicely. Then I wandered back to the car park. Suddenly Liz linked her arm through mine and walked beside me. I think I'd kind of forgotten she was there. She tried to ask me questions about my painting. I didn't have much to say about that so we just ended up walking in silence. I was glad Liz was with me because I'd lost track of where Mom had parked the car. I told Liz but she didn't care. She just grinned at me and said she would just add that to her long list of stories about me being dumb. Having Liz tease me made me feel good somehow — go figure. We ended up waiting at the car for five minutes or so until Mom turned up with a couple of bags of groceries.

In the car on the way back home, I just sat with my math book open to the sketches I'd made and made plans in my head about how I would include those in my painting. Liz sat quietly and watched me.

Back home Liz headed into the kitchen and started working with Tara to prepare dinner. I saw the big shirt over the back of the kitchen chair and that reminded me to put it on before I headed back into my room to resume painting.

-------

Mom came to fetch me for dinner. She took the paintbrush out of my hand and helped me take off the big shirt again. Then she helped me clean off my hands. Before I walked out of my room I stood back and looked at what I had done and then I glanced at Mom's big painting of me on the sofa. I shook my head. It was so detailed and so good and she'd done it so fast. I'd spent all afternoon on mine and I still had so much more to do even though mine was smaller and simpler. I shook my head again and followed Mom to dinner. I still had so much to learn. I still had so much practice to do.

Tara and Liz had baked potatoes for dinner and the table was spread out with a huge variety of fillings to put in them. I chose some red lima beans and shredded lettuce and put a salsa sauce on top. I guess mine was kind of a Mexican one. Mom was talking to Liz and Tara about their day at school. Dad and Dan were talking about Dan's football game that was coming up on Friday night. I didn't have much to say so I just ate my baked potato and listened to everyone. Liz was sort of talking with Tara, but I noticed she glanced over at me every so often. I was just pretty happy being with my family and my friend. I didn't need to say anything; just listening to them talk was nice.

I noticed I was still wearing the same clothes I'd worn to school. I reminded myself to change clothes after dinner.

Dad asked Tara and me if we wanted to go see Dan's game. I nodded at Dad but Tara said no because she was going out with her friends from school. Dad checked with me if I would be okay getting out to the college after school and going on the boosters' bus on my own. I nodded again. I'd done that a few times before, it was no big deal.

To follow, Tara and Liz had made this orange-flavored jelly-whip to go with some tinned peaches and ice cream. It was delicious. Towards the end of dinner, I noticed that Liz was looking at me and biting her lip. She was nervous about something. I hurriedly told her that dinner had been really great and thanked her and Tara for making it. Mom and Dad and Dan joined in with the thanks. Liz gave this little smile when we did that but the nervous look came back straight away. Obviously that hadn't been what was worrying her. I wondered what it could be.

After dinner I wanted to get back to my painting but Liz took my hand and led me into the living room where Dad was just sitting down and opening up the TV guide. Liz looked at me with this really nervous expression on her face.

"Bec, I want to ask your father something, but I don't want to go behind your back, so you have to be here. Is that okay? This is important. Please don't be upset with me."

I looked at her carefully. I had no clue what she was talking about. I just knew that I loved her. "Liz! I love you. If you have to ask something important, that's okay. Why would I be upset with you?"

"Because this is about your family and about you!"

"Huh?!"

Liz bit her lip again and led me over to Dad. Her hand felt all sweaty in mine. She was really nervous.

"Mr Freeman, can we talk to you? I mean, can I talk to you."

Dad looked surprised and gestured at the coffee table in front of him. We both sat down on the coffee table and he put down the TV guide so he could listen to us. Well, listen to Liz. I didn't know what this was about.

"What is it, Liz? You don't need to be nervous. You're like a part of our family. You can talk to me about anything or ask me anything." Dad had obviously picked up how nervous Liz was.

Liz licked her lips and started. "Bec told me you said Mrs Freeman's had this thing, this Lambrecht's Syndrome all her life. Is that right?" Dad nodded. "But it was when she was a teenager that it became really obvious and she got put in an asylum. Is that right?" Dad nodded again.

Liz looked at me and then looked over my shoulder at Mom who'd appeared, leaning in the door and listening while she dried a frying pan. Mom nodded and smiled at Liz and Liz turned her attention back to Dad.

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. She looked earnestly at Dad.

"The thing that Bec has, is it the same?" She took a big breath.

"Does Bec have Lambrecht's Syndrome?"

Everything inside of me froze.

I looked at Dad.

He looked at me.

And then, slowly, he nodded.



-------

Chapter 12 : Wednesday Night



Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. She looked earnestly at Dad. 

"The thing that Bec has, is it the same?" She took a big breath.

"Does Bec have Lambrecht's Syndrome?"

Everything inside of me froze.

I looked at Dad. 

He looked at me.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

Things that had been confusing suddenly made sense. I had an epiphany — another one. I've talked before about epiphanies. Did I mention how much they hurt? Epiphanies really hurt. This was my second one in a week. It felt like a huge fireworks show being set off inside my brain. It really, really hurt.

Dad said something about not being sure and needing to do tests but it was hard to hear with all the fireworks going whiz-bang-boom between my ears.

He was saying words, but they didn't make much sense.

-------

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. She looked earnestly at Dad. It was like there was an orchestra playing in the background. I could almost hear all the string instruments playing a long, long note forming some strange, unfinished chord that built this incredible tension.

"The thing that Bec has, is it the same?" She took a big breath. I didn't. I didn't breathe at all. My brain was trying to process the meaning of the question. She'd been talking about Mom. Why was the question suddenly about me?

"Does Bec have Lambrecht's Syndrome?" Ah yes! That was the question — the ultimate question! That was the life-changing, life-defining question! That was the sixty-four million dollar question, right there!

Everything inside of me froze. Even time froze. Everything I knew, everything I understood, my entire life story, every little thing I thought I knew about myself. It all froze. Then it shattered into a million pieces.

I looked at Dad. At least my eyes looked at Dad. Behind my eyes there wasn't any thought; just swirling confusion. Inside what was left of my brain, a tornado spun the glittering pieces of my broken self around and around in endless spirals.

He looked at me. Maybe a spark travelled from his eyes to mine. Maybe there was some message hidden in the depths of his eyes. Maybe he somehow projected some psychic message straight into the nothingness inside my skull. However it happened, he looked at me and snap — the tornado was gone.

And then there was silence.

And then there was silence.

The shattered pieces of my brain collapsed and fell. And as they fell they shifted and sorted themselves into a surprising new pattern.

The new pattern clicked into place like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was all there inside of my head, laid out all neat and orderly. I knew what Dad's answer was.

And then, slowly, he nodded. 

And I nodded too!

And then I wondered if I'd just answered the same question Dad had!

-------

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. She looked earnestly at Dad.

"The thing that Bec has, is it the same?" She took a big breath.

"Does Bec have Lambrecht's Syndrome?"

Everything inside of me froze.

I looked at Dad. 

He looked at me.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

Dad was saying something in the background, but there weren't any words. It was just noise.

Liz was clutching my hand. She was looking deeply into my eyes. She was looking straight through my eyes, right into the middle of my head, trying to see all the mess that was in there. She obviously felt responsible. She was feeling guilty for making the mess. It wasn't her fault; the mess was already there. All she did was shine a light into my head so that everyone could see it. It was such a bright and glaring light. I blinked my eyes; trying to adjust.

Liz was talking to me, asking a question, but there weren't any words. It was just noise.

Her searchlight beamed in through my eyes, lighting up all the dark corners of my brain. It lit up ideas and thoughts and feelings and experiences and emotions that I hadn't ever processed. They were all just piled up in forgotten corners, gathering dust until Liz shone her light onto them. It was too much! I wasn't ready to see those things yet. I wasn't ready to deal with those things yet. I closed my eyes to shut out the light. It wasn't enough! My flimsy eyelids couldn't stop her light from pouring into my head. They just turned the light a pinky-red sort of color. I squeezed my eyes more tightly closed. I leant forward and wrapped my arms around Liz, putting my head over her shoulder so she couldn't see into my eyes anymore.

Liz hugged me back.

Mom was saying something to me, but there weren't any words. It was just noise.

-------

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. She looked earnestly at Dad. 

"The thing that Bec has, is it the same?"

She hadn't asked if I was sick. She knew I was sick.

I wondered how she knew.

I wondered if I knew.

Of course I knew.

I wondered how I knew.

-------

"Does Bec have Lambrecht's Syndrome?"

Everything inside of me froze.

I looked at Dad.

He looked at me.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

I gasped in shock. How could he do that? How could he say that?

I stood up and started yelling at Dad. I was so upset. Why would he say such a thing?

Mom started shouting at me, defending Dad. I ignored her. She was the one who was crazy, not me!

Liz was still clinging to my hand. Liz? How dare she? Anger shivered through me.

I tore my hand out of her grasp and spun to face her.

She had betrayed me. My best and only friend had said I was mad!

I screamed at her in anger. How could she say that about me? What a horrible, nasty little bitch!

Tears were streaming down her face but I didn't care. Who wants a friend who says such things? Not me, that's for sure. She could just get lost for all I cared.

I spun on my heels and stormed out of the room.

I had to push past Tara and Dan. They were standing in the doorway. They were there to laugh at me. They were there to point and jeer at the crazy person.

I felt so betrayed. I felt so alone.

I raced to my room. My room with walls smeared with Mom's lies.

I snapped off the light and they disappeared into the dark.

I wanted to slam the door, but my daddy had taken my door away.

With one single nod, my daddy had taken my life away.

-------

"Does Bec have Lambrecht's Syndrome?"

Lambrecht's Syndrome?

What had Dad said about it? The doctors argued about it. Maybe it didn't even exist. Maybe it was just the extreme end of normal behaviour. Was that me?

Lambrecht's Syndrome?

What had Dad said about it? It came in episodes. It made you obsessive. It made you lose sight of the big picture. Was that right? Did that happen to me?

Lambrecht's Syndrome?

What had Dad said about it? Did I inherit it from Mom? Obviously I must have. Had he mentioned a genetic link?

The big picture — genetic link — there was something missing — big picture — think Bec — think hard! All the bits of my brain got recruited and put to work. There was an important question hiding somewhere in my brain. What was it? Think hard Bec!

Liz was talking with my parents, but it was just words. The words had no meaning.

Genetic link — Mom — big picture. A little bit of my brain found the question hiding in a corner of my skull — it held it up and waved it for the rest of me to see. Of course! How stupid not to think of this before? Of course! And it was such an important question. I felt so stupid.

Dan was talking with my parents, but it was just words. The words had no meaning.

My eyes flashed open. I was hugging Liz. My head was sitting over her shoulder. Directly in front of me was Dad — sitting in his chair — watching me. Mom was there too — sitting on the arm of his chair — watching me. My eyes stared at them.

"Dan doesn't have it, does he?" They shook their heads. I already knew that. I just wanted confirmation.

"Tara doesn't have it!" I said that with more confidence. They shook their heads. I already knew that too. I was just being complete — setting things out logically. It was the only way I could manage. It was the only way I could find my way through all this chaos. Line my thoughts up in neat little rows and maybe I could follow them through to the end.

And now for the important question; the big question, the question I didn't already know the answer to:

"Does Angie have it?"

My heart had stopped beating. Now it was swelling inside my chest, taking up all the available space, squashing my lungs down to nothing, threatening to burst out of my chest and explode - sending me spinning into some messy blood-spattered oblivion.

They glanced at each other. Was that a good sign? Was that a bad sign? Mom spoke to me, gently.

"We don't know. It's too early to tell."

My heart collapsed in on itself with a weary sigh. I closed my eyes and laid my head on Liz's shoulder. My heart gave a thump, then another, and then it started beating properly again.

It's too early to tell!

-------

The sweet little girl licked her lips and squeezed Angie's hand. She looked earnestly at me.

"Is Angie the same as you?" She took a big breath.

"Does Angie have Lambrecht's Syndrome?"

Everything inside of me froze.

I looked at Angie.

She looked at me.

And then slowly, I...

-------

I looked at Dad.

He looked at me.

Something was missing. I left something out. My brain started making checklists — sticking them up all over the inside of my skull. Ticking off things I knew! Checklists covered over other checklists making a crazy patchwork on the inside of my skull. Did I just say crazy? I didn't mean that. I'm not crazy.

Am I?

What had Dad said about Lambrecht's? It came in episodes. It made you obsessive. It made it hard to think about the big picture.

The big picture — something missing — genetic link — family — I'd asked about the family — Mom had it — check — I had it — check — Dan didn't — check — Tara didn't —check — Angie too early to tell — check — all checked? — check!

No! Wait! A bit of my brain screamed at me — called me an idiot. It scribbled out that last check mark. Family! Mom's family! There was more to Mom's family than just us!

My eyes popped open again. Mom and Dad were still there — still watching me. Dan was sitting on my other side — holding my other hand. Concern was written over their faces with a big, green, felt-tipped pen. Someone should take that pen off Angie.

"Nana doesn't have it!" Mom shook her head.

"What about Uncle Stan?"

Mom sighed. "Stan seems to have a really mild form of it. He had fewer problems than me as a teenager. I don't think my father even noticed. If you didn't know what to look for, no one would be able to tell. No one would ever know."

"What about Papa? I don't remember him well enough to tell."

Mom gave a little shrug. "I'm not sure. Your nana isn't sure. Remember they separated and I lived with my mother. I think he might have had it. If he did, he hid it from us."

I looked at Mom with big eyes. Somehow, instinctively, I knew! "Mom, he had it! And he put you in an asylum when he found out you had it." Mom just looked back at me. "I'm so sorry, Mom!"

I felt a single tear run down my left cheek. I hadn't cried for me, but now I was crying for Mom, for what her father had done to her.

"It was a long time ago, honey. That's over now." She leaned forward and kissed the tear off my cheek.

I felt myself rushing into my future. It was like I was sitting in the driver's cabin of a train, watching it happen. My future loomed there in front of me. I spun the steering wheel of the train, trying to avoid it, but of course my life had no choice but to follow the tracks laid down for it. I smashed into my future with an enormous roar.

I pushed away from the arms holding me. I stood up, trembling with fear.

"I don't want to go to an asylum." I blurted out. Then I turned and fled the room.

-------

And then, slowly, he nodded.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

I stared in confusion at Dad. That can't be right.

There was nothing wrong with me. I felt a surge of emotion go through me. Why would they talk about me like that? I felt so betrayed. I felt so alone.

I pulled my hand out of Liz's and stood up.

Sometimes Liz spouted such nonsense.

I had painting to do. It was such a big painting and there was so much still to do.

I walked out of the room.

Dad and Mom and Tara and Dan and Angie and Liz were all watching me.

I think they were worried that I might freak out or something.

I wasn't freaking out.

Was I?

-------

Everything inside of me froze.

I looked at Dad. 

He looked at me.

He never said a word. He just nodded. And then he stood and took Mom's hand. Together they walked out of the room.

Dan and Tara, standing near the doorway just turned and followed.

I could feel Liz carefully pull her hand out of mine. I couldn't watch. I couldn't face her. I didn't want to watch her back away from me, and then turn and run. Her footsteps sounded loud in the silence as she fled.

Tears running silently down my face, I collapsed into a heap on the floor.

I felt so betrayed.

I felt so alone.

-------

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. 

"Are you mad at me?"

I turned my head and looked at her in surprise. "What?"

"Are you mad at me?" She held out both hands to me.

I looked at her hands in confusion. I could have sworn I was already holding one of her hands, but there they both were, held out in front of me.

I looked down and saw a paintbrush in my hand. I wondered how it had got there. Liz was talking to Dad, she had some important question to ask, and here I was holding a paintbrush. It was so confusing.

"Why would I be mad at you?"

I turned my head back to the way I had been facing. Dad had disappeared. There was a half finished painting in front of me. It was a painting of a girl in a fancy dress.

I wondered why the painting wasn't finished.

I wondered who the girl was.

"Because of what I asked your dad — what I asked about you. I thought you might be mad at me."

That was even more confusing. She hadn't even asked the question yet. How could I be mad at her for asking a question before she even asked it? I knew what she was going to ask though. How did I know that?

She looked earnestly at Dad. "The thing that Bec has, is it the same?" 

Yes, that was the question. Now I could decide if that made me mad at her. It was really hard to think clearly though, because I was going to freeze up as soon as she asked.

Everything inside of me froze. You see? I told you I would.

I looked at the girl in the picture — the girl with the fancy dress.

She looked at me. She sneered at me. She looked down her nose at me with her fancy hair and her pretty earrings. I hated her. What an arrogant cow! She thought she was so much better than me.

And slowly she nodded.

I loaded my paintbrush up with black and reached out to smear paint across her face. That would teach her!

Liz grabbed my hand and tried to take the paintbrush away from me.

I struggled with her; trying to hold onto my brush. Liz raised one hand and slapped me on the face — hard.

I shook my head and blinked my eyes. I was standing in my room. Liz took the paintbrush out of my unresisting hand.

"You don't really want to do that." I blinked at her. Maybe she was right! Maybe I didn't want to do that.

I turned back and looked at my painting. I sighed in relief. I hadn't wrecked it.

"I'm sorry I hit you." Liz was breathing heavily after our struggle. I'm taller and stronger than she is.

"You stopped me."

I looked around my bedroom. "I guess I came in here because I couldn't face any more of the family meeting." It wasn't really a question. Maybe it was.

"Yeah!" She gestured in the direction of the living room. "It's still going in there."

"Are my parents angry with you for bringing up 'the subject'?"

"Not really! I thought they might be but they're not. I think they thought you had figured it out for yourself. They were just waiting for you to bring it up."

"Oh!" Had I figured it out? Yes! No! Maybe! That was a hard question. I wasn't ready for that question.

I gestured at my closet door. "I guess I came in here to paint."

"Bec you weren't painting. You spent the last fifteen minutes with a paint brush in your hand just looking at the picture."

"Oh!" I winced a bit — that sounded like something a crazy person might do — I didn't want to be crazy. "I guess I was just a bit freaked out!"

Liz raised one ironic eyebrow, "You think?"

I looked back at my picture. It seemed wrong somehow. It showed a me that now seemed stupid. It was like some childish dream of being a princess. It had no connection with me anymore. I was embarrassed that I had even started it. There was no way I could work on it now. I opened that door of the closet and pushed it all the way open so the unfinished picture was hidden, facing the wall.

I turned to Liz, "Maybe I was just realizing that it's a bad painting. I mean, look at all this" I gestured around the room at all of Mom's paintings. I was trying to remind Liz what good paintings looked like so she would understand how pathetic mine was.

Something caught my eye. Something I hadn't seen before. I walked closer to get a better view. There was a new painting. It was Liz. She was painted from side on, sitting on the floor, leaning her back against my bookcase with her knees tucked up and a novel hanging forgotten in one hand. Liz's head was back and she was looking up, watching me jump and throw the basketball. She was naked of course and her nice round breasts were clearly there to be seen. So was the clean sweeping curve of her hips and butt and thighs. Her face was full of joy. It was a beautiful painting.

I felt Liz come up beside me and we wrapped an arm around each other.

"When did that happen?" I asked Liz.

"I don't know! It was there when I arrived here after school. You were in here painting and that was already there. I assumed she was doing that while you worked on yours."

"I didn't notice." I felt embarrassed that I hadn't noticed. "It's beautiful. It's exactly you! Do you mind that she painted you in the nude?"

"No I don't mind. I love it. It makes me feel good, seeing it there."

We stood and looked at it.

-------

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand.

I looked down and realized I was still wearing the same clothes I'd worn to school. I reminded myself to change when this was over.

"Does Bec have Lambrecht's Syndrome?"

Everything inside of me froze.

I looked at Mr Shankie.

He looked at me.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

"Yes Rebecca. And I have to take you away now. Say goodbye to your friend — you'll never see her again. They don't allow visitors in an asylum."

I could hear Liz crying beside me. I felt tears running down my cheeks. "I don't want to go!"

Liz took her hand away from mine, "You have to go, Bec, you can't stay here like this. You're crazy! You should be in an asylum."

I couldn't argue any more. I closed my eyes and gave up.

I felt so betrayed. I felt so alone.

I was led out of the house. Tears still ran freely down my cheeks.

Hands pushed me down until I sat. I peeked through one eye and saw that I was sitting on the back steps of my house. Liz sat down next to me and put one arm behind me to rub my back. She handed me a tissue so I could dry my eyes.

"You see? I told you that you needed to get out of the house. The fresh air will make you feel better."

I wrapped one arm around her and kept dabbing at my eyes with the other.

"You're a good friend, Liz. I love you so much."

Liz reached over and kissed my cheek then laid her head on my shoulder. I tilted my head to the side so it rested on hers. Together we sat and looked out into the darkness.

A bit of my brain pointed out that it was just as well we weren't naked. It was a bit chilly out there.

-------

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand.

She looked earnestly at me.

"How do you feel?"

I don't know. How do I feel? "Everything is all confused. It's like I've just been spun around and around and now I'm still and the whole world is spinning out of control around me."

"Is the fresh air helping?"

"Yes! No! Maybe! I think so!"

She gently rubbed up and down my back. "Just close your eyes. Let the world spin without you. Hold onto me if you want. I'm right here and I'm not moving."

I wrapped one arm around her and closed my eyes.

"You're a good friend, Liz. I love you so much."

"You just said that."

"I did?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh! ... I'm a bit confused."

That was an understatement. I was a lot confused. I didn't have the words to explain what had been happening. I still don't.

Liz reached over and kissed my cheek then laid her head on my shoulder. I tilted my head to the side so it rested on hers. Together we sat and let the world spin without us.

What had been happening?

A bit of my brain pointed out that it was just as well we weren't naked. If we were naked, Mom would want to make another picture.

-------

I was imagining the picture Mom would paint. Me and Liz sitting on the back steps of our house, both of us naked and leaning against each other, holding each other. Our eyes would be closed, our faces calm and relaxed and peaceful. It was the one thing Mom hadn't painted — me with other people.

I could feel Liz snuggled against me, my head rested against hers. I opened my eyes carefully, hoping the world wasn't still spinning. Across our dark back yard I could see the back of our neighbor's house. It belonged to a young married couple. A light was on in their bedroom. I wondered what they were doing. I watched the shadows move back and forth over the curtains. I wondered what they were thinking. I wondered how they were feeling.

I wondered how I was feeling. A bit of my brain extended a finger and prodded me. Hmm! I wasn't feeling so confused. I wasn't feeling so lost. I was pretty sure I knew where I was and what I was doing. That was something to hold on to.

I decided I was feeling better.

I thought about the last hour. (or was it two? or was it three?)

Everything was so confused. Nothing seemed real.

I had no words to describe what had been happening. The little dictionary inside my head had used up all the big words. It only had little words left. Words like "crazy". It only had questions left — simple questions — questions like: "Am I going mad?"

Am I going mad? The idea sent a cold shiver through me.

What does madness feel like?

How would I know if I was crazy?

A little bit of my brain pointed out that it was insane to sit on the back step of my house in the cold and the dark, trying to decide if I was crazy or not.

It was hard to argue with that.

-------

I was starting to feel pretty cold. I figured Liz was probably cold too.

"We should probably get inside. It's a bit cold out here."

"Yeah!" Her hand rubbed up and down my back. "How are you feeling now?"

That was an easy question. I opened my brain and took out the answer I prepared earlier.

"I'm feeling better."

I hoped she didn't ask any more questions; that was the only answer I had.

The door opened behind us, spilling light across the back yard. Our combined shadow stretched across the ground in front of us. Liz and I hadn't moved. Behind me, I heard Mom give a long, quiet sigh.

"What is it, Mom?"

"I just realized I'm missing one painting in your room. It won't be a complete set until I do it."

I was about to point out that we already had this conversation — I already knew about the extra painting, but then I closed my mouth. Maybe that had just been me thinking about a painting.

"We're not taking our clothes off out here, Mom. It's way too cold!"

Well, I thought it was funny at the time. Apparently Liz did too. I could feel her laughing silently beside me.

"It is cold out here, you two should come inside. It's about time you went to bed anyway."

"Yes, Mom!" "Okay, Mrs Freeman!" The two of us answered at once.

We stood up and turned to face her. She was silhouetted in the doorway — it made a pretty good picture: the mother standing in the doorway of the house with the light and the warmth spilling out around her, calling her children in from the cold.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling better."

Mom hugged me and we went inside.

Dan hugged me, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling better."

I decided it had been a good plan — to have an answer prepared.

Tara hugged me, and kissed me and then hugged me again. She didn't ask.

Angie hugged me and kissed me too. Why was she still up? She should have been in bed ages ago. I checked her hand to see if she was holding a big, green, felt-tipped pen. She wasn't.

Liz hugged me again, the greedy thing. We'd been hugging outside for ages and here she was lining up for more. I wondered if I should start charging five dollars per hug. I'd make a lot of money in this family. That seemed pretty funny to me at the time.

Even Dad hugged me — I think seeing everyone else hugging me reminded him that he should hug me too. "Are you okay?"

"I'm feeling better." He could have his hug for free.

Mom held out her hand to me. Sitting on her palm was half a pill.

"It's a sedative. It will help you sleep. I usually take a whole pill, so half should be about right for you."

Mom and Liz steered me into my room. I was starting to feel sleepy already. That pill was sure acting fast. I hadn't even swallowed it yet.

Between them, Mom and Liz undressed me. A part of my brain noticed that the clothes they were taking off me were the ones I'd worn to school that morning. I was sure I'd changed out of them at some stage, but apparently I hadn't.

Another part of my brain noticed the door of my closet was pushed all the way open, hiding my half finished painting against the wall. I was pretty sure I did that.

Yet another part of my brain noticed that everyone in my family was taking it in turns to undress each other, and now Liz was taking her turn. It was just like she was one of the family. That seemed pretty funny too.

They helped me into my nice warm flannel pyjamas and were just doing up the buttons when Tara came in with a glass of water so I could take my pill. I had to stop yawning so I could swallow it — a really, really fast acting pill.

Mom and Tara wished me goodnight and left. Liz shucked her clothes off and draped them over my chair. Wearing just a pair of panties, she grasped my hand and squeezed it. She seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight. Then she backed herself into the bed, pulling me in after her.

Liz spooned herself in behind me and wrapped her arm around me. I clutched it to my chest like it was a doll.

I looked at the doll.

The doll looked at me.

And then slowly, it nodded.

That was hilarious! I wondered why no one was laughing. All these funny things and no one was laughing.

I hadn't told anyone that I was going crazy.

"I'm here!" Liz whispered into my ear. "I'm going to hold you like this all night."

Maybe they already knew!

"Now go to sleep."

Who was I to argue?



-------

Chapter 13 : Thursday before school

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. She looked earnestly at Dad.

"The thing that Bec has, is it the same?" She took a big breath.

"Does Bec have Lambrecht's Syndrome?"

Everything inside of me froze.

I looked at Dad.

He looked at me.

And then, slowly, he shook his head.

He shook his head!

He shook his head?

Dad spoke to Liz, he ignored me. I sat there beside Liz like a ... I don't know ... like a forgotten vase of flowers. "The thing Bec's mother has is a condition that only shows up occasionally. It's nothing significant really; just a temporary aberration.

"Bec, on the other hand, is completely stark raving bonkers. She's as mad as a hatter. She's a total loony."

Liz nodded. "That's what I thought!" She stood up, pulling me with her by my hand. "I'll put her back in her room."

I followed Liz like a well trained puppy or something. What choice did I have?

Dad stayed sitting in his chair. Angie stood beside him, holding onto his knee, and waved goodbye to Liz — she completely ignored me.

In my room, all the furniture was gone. It was just an empty room with four walls; walls that were totally covered with paintings.

Dan was putting the last screw into bars that blocked my window. He patted them and looked at me with a smile. "These should keep you safely inside!" And then he left.

Mom was just finishing the last painting. It was me, of course! She'd painted me naked, of course! In the painting, a collar ran around my neck and was fastened to a chain attached to a ring on the wall. I hunched there, filthy and unkempt. My hair all dirty and bedraggled, my eyes vacant and staring.

Every time I moved the chain clanked. The skin on my neck itched where the collar wrapped around it and I scratched at it with my rough and filthy nails.

The door opened and Mrs Billings entered, followed by a stream of students from my class. They all looked bored as she began pointing dismissively at all the paintings; pointing out flaws and criticizing the style. She mentioned that at least they were able to compare the model to the final result and gestured at me. I stood there naked, chained to the wall as all these people from school stared at me with curiosity and contempt.

I felt humiliated, ashamed. I tried to hide, but the chain just clanked and stopped me. I had no choice but to stand there pitifully and let them stare.

At this point, a little bit of my brain pointed out that I was probably dreaming.

I wasn't convinced.

Hannah Fargo pointed at me and started laughing. "Hey look everyone! Look at the crazy girl — it's no boobs Freeman!" Then she stopped and looked more closely, staring right at my chest. "No wait! I stand corrected! It's one boob Freeman! Look everyone — she's only got one boob. The weirdo loony girl with the stupid accent only has one boob."

Now everyone was pointing and laughing. Jeering at me! I stood there pathetically trying to cover my chest with my arms.

I felt this shove from the side and I opened my eyes to see the floor looming up at me out of the dark.

I hit the floor with a thump — and probably a grunt.

I groaned and sat up. Moonlight spilled through my curtains sending a dim, soft light through the room. I could just make out Liz spreadeagled over the entire bed. She was fast asleep and obviously occupying the place I'd just been sleeping.

Liz had just pushed me out of bed!

Again!

My heart was racing; thudding in my chest like some huge drum. Memories from my dream of jeering and laughter still rang in my ears. I was wide awake. I glanced at my bedside clock — it was 3:10am. I had a memory of taking a pill to help me sleep. Well I guess I had slept, just not for very long.

I perched myself on the edge of the bed and looked down at my sleeping friend in the dim light. I guess all I had to do was shift her sideways again and I could slide back into bed. The problem was I didn't feel like sleeping at all. I remembered Liz wrapping her arm around me and promising to hold me all night — I stifled a laugh — gee thanks, Liz, some friend you are. Promise to hold me safe and protect me and then you push me out of my own bed!

I carefully pushed hair back off her face and pulled the blankets up to cover her shoulders. She looked so sweet lying there. She looked so peaceful I didn't want to disturb her. I grabbed my white bath robe and put it on over my pyjamas. Then I went wandering through the house.

The house was still, silent, deserted. I felt like a ghost drifting through the living room. That line from that Christmas poem popped into my head, you know the one: "all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."

In the kitchen I poured myself a glass of water and leant against the sink while I sipped at it. My mind went back to last evening. Everything seemed so fractured, so unreal. Most of it felt like a dream, but I was pretty sure I had been awake — well sort of awake anyway. I still had no idea what had been going on. Maybe some of it was my brain experimenting with what might have happened, rather than what really did happen. The only problem was I had no idea what had been real and what was my brain playing tricks.

My brain extended a finger and prodded me. I seemed to be a bit fragile but otherwise okay — normal even — if you can call being wide awake and sitting in the kitchen at 3:20am in the morning normal. I was pretty sure my experiences last evening weren't normal. The weird reality-bending seemed to have stopped, but the experience had left me feeling fragile. And the big problem hadn't gone away, the problem I didn't want to think about, the big life-long problem that now hung over my head. Part of me wanted my mommy to hold me and kiss it better and tell me everything would be okay. I knew that would never happen. I knew this was something that couldn't be kissed away. It was the child in me that wanted my mommy and I wasn't a child any more.

I left the empty glass by the sink and drifted through the house. The door to my parents' room was ajar. Silently I slipped into their room and stood in the dark near the base of their bed. Mom and Dad were fast asleep, both snoring quietly in unison. They were each sleeping on their own side of the bed with a big gap between them. I'd slept with both Tara and Liz over the last three nights and each time we'd slept huddled together — though admittedly Liz had ended up pushing me out of bed — twice. Did Mom and Dad sleep hugging and holding each other when they were first married but now they slept in the same bed but apart? Was this what happened to married people? I'd only slept with girls. Was it different when you slept with a guy in your bed?

The child in me wanted to crawl up onto the bed between my parents and sleep cradled in the safety of their arms, but I wasn't a child anymore. I crept out of the room and carefully and quietly pulled the door closed behind me. The ghost that was me drifted restlessly around the house. Was this what it really means to grow up? I'd thought growing up was just about getting bigger and sex stuff. I was learning that growing up meant that you found out there was stuff in the world your parents couldn't chase away with a hug and a kiss. Growing up sucks!

Dan's door was closed. I pressed my body against the door, yearning to feel his strength. How many times had Dan propped me up, encouraged me, supported me, or just held me? Maybe that was what I needed now. But the door was closed and it was the middle of the night. I gripped the door handle and turned it slowly, inch by inch. I heard the faintest of click sounds and the door swung open.

On silent feet I crept into the room and perched on Dan's computer chair. It swivelled so I could turn and stare at Dan's sleeping form. In the dim, moonlit room I could make out Dan lying on his stomach, his arms outstretched. The blankets were slid down to his waist, revealing his naked back. Dan usually slept in boxers. I knew that, but I wondered if he was cold lying like that without even blankets covering him. I could hear his heavy breathing, not quite snoring but close, and I could see his back raising and falling in time with the breathing. Laid out like he was, Dan's big shoulder and arm and back muscles looked like solid granite in the dim moonlight. That was appropriate — Dan was like my rock that I could cling to whenever my life felt out of control. Just like now.

But Dan's face was turned away from me and he was fast asleep — oblivious of my need. I would just have to save myself. I sat twisting the chair slightly back and forth — little movements while my eyes watched Dan sleep. I sat and watched and took what comfort I could from watching him. The sister in me wanted to pull the blankets up so he'd be warm. The little girl in me wanted to wake him and crawl into his arms so he could hold me. The artist in me wanted to draw the clean lines of his sculpted back. The woman in me wanted to run my fingers over those strong muscles. To touch, to hold, to kiss ... I squashed that thought, he was my brother and that was just ... wrong.

I turned away, angry with myself. How terrible am I that I couldn't watch my brother sleeping and stay ... I don't know ... innocent. What was wrong with me? I mean apart from that ... apart from that big thing that hung over me like a storm cloud, what else was wrong with me? Surely there was something wrong with me (something else I mean) if I had thoughts like that about my brother?

Dan's computer sat on the desk in front of me. I was expecting it to be completely dark but the power light was glowing orange; it was asleep and not off. I gripped the mouse and moved it. After a moment's delay, the power light turned green and the screen slowly came to life, revealing Dan's cluttered computer desktop, glowing in the darkness of the room. I shook my head in disbelief. Still no password? Dan, what will we do with you?

Out of sheer curiosity I opened up the web browser and clicked on the last page in his history list. As I suspected it would, the screen filled with the image of a naked woman with big round breasts. Her eyes were closed and her legs were wide open and draped over the edge of a bed covered with pale blue sheets. She had no pubic hair so you could see all the bits of her ... pussy. I guessed she must be a swimmer or something like that so she had to shave all her pubic hair off. One hand was on her stomach, the other on her breast; both hands seemed to be rubbing some sort of cream into her skin which glistened in the lights of the camera.

I clicked back to the previous picture. Now her eyes were half open and she stared from under her eyelids into the camera. The cream was now visible, sitting in pearly strings across her breasts and stomach. I wondered what that was all about. Do boys find it sexy to watch a girl put skin cream on? I glanced over at Dan, sleeping in the dull glow of the computer screen. I kind of got that he liked to look at pictures of naked girls with big boobs, but this was strange. Did he find it sexy to look at this picture? Would I find it sexy to watch someone putting skin cream on? I shook my head. Dan was a boy and sometimes boys were such a mystery.

I clicked back to the previous picture and as soon as it loaded, pulled my head back slightly in surprise. The edge of the picture was filled with some man's hip. I knew it was a man because jutting out and filling up half the screen was his gigantic penis. It was fully erect and looked ... I don't know ... angry maybe? The end was a very dark purple color and big veins stood out all the way down its length. Out of the end was spurting ... oh!

The other half of the picture was a close up of one of her breasts with some of that stuff already on it. I felt so stupid. Now I knew what it was — not skin cream at all. I knew about how guys squirted stuff when they had an orgasm and how that stuff had their sperms in it. I just hadn't recognized it when I saw it sitting there on her skin. I felt so stupid. I'd thought it was skin cream. Add that to the list of stupid things Bec does or says or thinks! That list was already way too long by the way.

I was still confused though. I stared at the picture as if it would somehow answer my questions. Why was he squirting it onto her breasts? And why was she rubbing it in and looking happy about that? That seemed a bit gross to me. Though the last thing I thought would be gross, Mom had said 'Don't knock it til you try it!' — I don't think she'd meant for me to hear that though.

I glanced over at Dan's sleeping form. Did Dan ever do that with one of his girlfriends? I pretty well assumed he did sex stuff with them but did he do this? Did Dan ever squirt his sperms onto some girl's breasts? Did she rub it in like skin cream? Did she find it sexy? Did he? And anyhow, why wasn't the penis inside the girl's vagina when he squirted? Isn't that what's supposed to happen? Everything I knew about sex stuff, which wasn't all that much I guessed, said that the people in the picture were doing it all wrong! He was supposed to squirt inside of her. I looked back at the picture. The penis looked so big! Maybe it didn't fit!

I was pretty sure it wouldn't fit into me! I was feeling a bit squishy down there just looking at the picture. Tara had put one finger in there and it had felt really tight around just one finger. I felt tingles as I remembered the sensation. And when I put my finger inside Liz, I'd had to kind of push it in; there hadn't been any spare space around my finger for anything larger. And that thing was sooo much bigger than a finger. How could something that big fit inside? Maybe it didn't. And maybe when it didn't fit, the man was disappointed so he just let his sperms fall on her skin instead.

Something about this wasn't right and the picture wasn't answering my questions. Men and women made babies all the time and to do that the man had to squirt off inside the woman. I knew that. It didn't make sense that a man's penis wouldn't fit! Tara said the first time she did it had hurt. Maybe now I knew why. Maybe the first time the man had to make the hole bigger so it would fit in. Or was there something I was missing? I hated being so ignorant. More and more, growing up seemed to involve finding out how ignorant you really are. Growing up really sucks!

In frustration, I shut down the web browser and clicked the icon to send Dan's computer back to sleep. With one last glance at Dan's sleeping back, I silently fled the room. I had to slow down and make sure I closed the door slowly and quietly so I didn't wake Dan up. Then I leant against the wall and closed my eyes. That huge erect penis seemed to be imprinted across the inside of my eyelids. The stupid diagrams they showed you in school health education didn't warn you how big they would be. They showed everything fitting together neatly like they were made for each other. They didn't talk about things not fitting in health classes. I thought I'd known kind of how sex was supposed to work. Now I wasn't so sure. Now I just knew I was ignorant.

I wondered if I would get to find out for myself before I went away to the asylum.

Damn, I didn't want to think about that! The images in my head fled and the tingles between my legs went chasing right after them. Now I remembered why I was wandering around, haunting our house, in the middle of the night.

Angie's door stood wide open, right in front of me.

"Does Angie have it?"

"We don't know. It's too early to tell."

I drifted into her room and right up to the side of her bed. Angie was fast asleep but looked uncomfortable. She'd twisted all the blankets around herself and seemed to be tied up in knots. Carefully I untangled her and straightened up the bed. Angie slept through all of that of course. I kind of envied her ability to sleep through everything. Angie was so young, so pure, so innocent. I felt the overpowering need to protect her; defend her from all the horrible things in the world. That was a cool thing about growing up; getting to be a big sister, or even a mother!

The words 'It's too early to tell' kept repeating in my head. That was something I couldn't protect Angie from. There was not a single thing I could do that would protect her from that. The frustration and helplessness twisted up everything inside of me. I wanted so much to save Angie from that but there was nothing I could do. Angie was my little sister; would I feel worse if it was a child of my own? How could I possibly feel worse?

Was this how the others had felt when they watched me last night? Wanting so much to save me from the pain but knowing there was nothing they could do? A tear ran down my left cheek and dripped onto Angie's bed. I felt so bad that I had caused so much pain for my family. They must have felt so awful last night and it was all my fault!

I backed away from Angie as if I had the plague. I turned and fled the room, my white robe seeming to float through the darkness. I made it back to the living room and pushed between the curtains so I could press myself against the cold glass and look out at the deserted street in front of our house. The solitary street light blurred and misted as my eyes filled with tears. The ghostly figure wailed out its silent grief into the uncaring night. Okay, that's just me trying to be poetic, but you know what I mean; I just didn't want to write 'I cried some more!' <sighs> Okay, if you insist!

I cried some more and then I stopped. I kind of decided to stop crying. So I stopped. I mean there comes a time when you just have to say to yourself: 'Bec, that's enough of that nonsense. There's no point being miserable. Get on with your life.' So I stopped. I lined up all the bits of my brain in a single row and gave them a stern lecture about how they all had to stop doing the crazy stuff. No more hurting my family by being all miserable. No more scaring my family by being all freaky! They all promised and crossed their hearts and everything so that made me feel better.

Having told myself that I was both okay and normal, I headed back to my room. The ghost has left the building! Inside my room, I stood looking down at my bed, fully occupied by the sprawl that was Liz. The only problem with my new plan was that a normal person would be sleeping or at least sleepy right now and I was so completely the opposite of that. Damn!

I went and sat at my desk. Carefully I angled the work light away from the bed then I turned it on. It was still too bright, so I draped an old t-shirt over it. I shuffled the papers on my desk and in doing so had to move my mouse out of the way. A few seconds later my computer woke up. That was strange. I usually turn it off when I finish with it. Then I remembered that Liz had been using it. I vaguely had a memory of her looking at a website about Lambrecht's Syndrome. I had to type in my password of course, but I soon had my web browser open and was reloading the most recent site from my history.

Yep! There it was. Lambrecht's Syndrome! Named after the village in Germany where a patient lived who was the first one they diagnosed. He had the following symptoms: yep, same as Mom. And one of his four children turned out to have the same thing, therefore suggesting some genetic link. Ah! That's how Liz knew to ask! Suddenly one of my little mysteries was solved. Except that she had kind of said she knew something was wrong with me. Was it that obvious? All the kids at school called me a weirdo; I'd just assumed that was because of my accent and because I was shy and stuff like that. Was it because they could tell? That was a scary thought. But no! From now on I was going to be Little Miss Normal! I had nothing to be scared about! I had nothing to be sad about! I was not going to be in the least bit freaky! Whatever they thought was wrong with me, they weren't going to see any more! Class I'm calling the roll now; Little Miss Normal? Present!

My eyes were caught by a page stuck to the pin board behind my desk. It was my science test with the drawing on it; the one of future-me breaking through the mirror. My mind went to my two closet doors. Mom had prepared both doors and had me paint the one of me in a prom dress on one door. Obviously she meant for me to do a version of this on the other door.

Wait a minute! Was painting normal? There are lots of artists in the world. Obviously it was okay to be an artist. Sure some artists are as crazy as a loon, but being an artist didn't automatically make you crazy. Did it? Surely not! Good! Painting was okay.

I picked my sketch off the board and turned to look at my closet door. It was too dark to see properly so I moved the work light off my desk and carried it over to the closet, stretching the power cord over the floor. A bit of arrangement and I had it nicely lit. The sketch only showed the top half of me, but the prom dress was a full length portrait. Putting the two side by side would look weird because of the different lengths. The broken mirror picture would have to be extended to show the bottom half of me as well. But the two pictures would be next to each other. That told me how to do the bottom half of the broken mirror picture and it gave me the impulse to finish the prom dress painting as well. I grabbed a pencil and started doing a big version of my broken mirror sketch, straight onto the prepared closet door.

-------

"Hey you!"

I turned and looked at Liz, a paintbrush poised in my hand. She'd lifted her head from the pillow and was looking at me; her hair all tangled and messy.

"Hi Liz" I reminded myself that I was being Little Miss Normal and gave her a big smile.

"You were supposed to be lying here in bed while I held you all night so that you'd feel all safe and secure. Instead I'm all alone over here and you're over there doing the whole Michelangelo thing. What's with that?"

"What's with that, is my bestest friend in the whole world held me nice and safe until she went to sleep and then she promptly pushed me out of bed ... again!!"

"Oh My God! I did not!"

"You did so. At least I didn't bash my face hitting the floor this time, so I guess that's a bonus."

"Oh My God! I'm sooo sorry!" She crawled out of bed, wrapped a blanket around herself and shuffled over to me. "I'm an awful friend. I feel terrible."

I held my paintbrush and palette out sideways so I could kiss her and get a hug.

"You are the bestest, most fantasticest friend in the world. You sat with me and hugged me and held me last night when I really needed it and I love you for that. On the other hand, you pushing me out of bed again was just funny! I think next time we should just put the mattress on the floor so I don't fall so far. Or maybe we need those bars at the side of the bed like they have on boats."

"Or maybe we should tie ourselves together so if you go, I come falling out right along with you."

"Yeah that'd work, I'd hit the ground with a thump and then you'd land right on top of me and I'd get all squished."

She gasped and slapped my arm. "Are you saying I'm so heavy I'd squish you?"

"That's right! Liz the elephant! I'm going to call you that from now on. Now get out of my light, I'm trying to paint here."

She slapped my arm again, but she was grinning and then she slid in beside me and hugged me with one arm so she could look at my paintings. I'd finished the prom dress picture and made a good start on the broken mirror, though most of it was still pencil marks.

"All this looks so good, Bec. I'm totally jealous that you can draw and paint like this."

I shrugged, "It's just my thing. Everyone has a thing! Mine's drawing. I'm still learning how to do painting." I used the back of the paintbrush to point at Mom's paintings around me. "I still have a long way to go before I'm any good at painting."

I painted. Liz clung to my left side and watched.

I decided my plan to be Little Miss Normal was working.

After only about two minutes like that, the alarm on my clock started buzzing. Time to face the day!

-------

For breakfast Mom had made porridge. Everyone was there and sat down to eat at the same time, even Dad. There is absolutely nothing in the world like some nice hot porridge with raw brown sugar melted on top and a splash of milk. Operation Little Miss Normal was fully happening with me smiling and nodding and chatting. It seemed to be working too, because I could see how my family all relaxed a bit when they saw I was okay. Mom clucked like a mother hen about the purple color of the bruising around my eye from yesterday. Dan checked with me that I still wanted to go to the basketball that night and I was all enthusiastic about that. Tara even teased me a bit about going on my first date with Dan. Dad asked a couple of times if I was okay to go to school and I said yes. Of course I said yes — I mean Little Miss Normal goes to school every day, right?

Liz reminded me that her dad had rung last night (I didn't remember that, but I didn't let on) and that he was going to pick her up from school at the end of the day. That meant she would have to take her bag and her helmet and her bike leathers to school. Dad asked where she would put all that gear during the day and Liz explained that the lady at the front desk looked after the helmet for her and the rest would fit into her locker — just.

Dad said he was driving us to school and he'd called the power station to let them know he'd be a bit late. That would make it easy for us to get Liz's gear to school too, so that was good.

After breakfast everyone gave me hugs, and told me they were glad I was feeling okay. I decided phase one of Operation Little Miss Normal had been a complete success. Now I just had to keep it going for school.

-------

On the way to school in Dad's car I had a chance to think because Liz and Tara were chatting about Tara's swimming. I figured out that after pretending I was okay throughout breakfast, that I really was feeling okay. After pretending all that time that I was normal, I wasn't feeling even a little bit crazy. Wow!

I could write a book about this. I already had the title Little Miss Normal; the blurb on the back would say "Forget about all those years of therapy, just pretend you're okay and you will be!" I could even set the book out like the Little Miss Happy children's book I loved reading to Angie, with one sentence on each page and a brightly colored picture over each sentence. I stared blindly out the window and sorted out what each page would say and imagined the picture that would go with it:



This is Little Miss Normal. She was as normal as normal can be.

One day Little Miss Normal was sad and confused.

All of Little Miss Normal's family were unhappy to see her like that.

Little Miss Normal decided to pretend to be happy and normal.

Little Miss Normal smiled and made jokes and chatted about normal things.

Little Miss Normal had breakfast with her family like all the normal children do.

Little Miss Normal went to school like all the normal children do.

Little Miss Normal's family were happy that she was okay.

Now Little Miss Normal was happy too.

Little Miss Normal didn't have to pretend any more.

If Little Miss Normal could do it, you can do it too!

If you feel sad and confused, pretend you are okay and you will be.

The End



I guess I must have had a big smile on my face from imagining my book. I only realized I was smiling when Dad pulled the car into the school car park and I noticed that Liz and Tara had stopped talking. They were both looking at me with big happy smiles. I guess they were pleased to see me looking happy. Seeing them smiling at me like that made me feel all warm and cuddly inside.

See!

It works just like I said.



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Chapter 14 ; Thursday at school



Dad took me straight to the reception desk. He must have made an appointment for a meeting because Miss Webster and Mr Shankie were waiting for us. We went into Miss Webster's office and sat around the table; me and Dad and Miss Webster and Mr Shankie. Habit tried to make me slouch down in the chair and stare at the table but I decided a normal person wouldn't do that. I made myself sit upright and watch my dad and Miss Webster. I figured I could safely ignore Mr Shankie unless he asked me a question. I decided this was an important test for Little Miss Normal — maybe I should call her LMN for short. In the meeting Dad did all the talking and I just did LMN.

"I asked for this meeting because I wanted to talk to you face-to-face. I hope this way we can avoid any more confusion like yesterday. Here is some information about Lambrecht's Syndrome." He handed a printout to Miss Webster and a copy to Mr Shankie.

"You will notice that I have highlighted the fact that this is regarded as a relatively minor condition. In adults, it appears in episodes separated by anything from weeks to months to years. My wife had an episode earlier this week that lasted for several days. By the time you spoke to her yesterday, Miss Webster, the episode was completely finished.

"You will notice that I have also highlighted the fact that a typical episode involves some obsessive behaviour. No delusions, no voices, no violence, just obsessive behaviour which can sometimes appear like a temporary change in personality.

"Next you will notice that I have highlighted evidence that there is a genetic link associated with this syndrome." Here it comes! I guess even a normal person isn't going to sit and smile during this bit, maybe I should try to do a stone face like Miss Webster's. Just do Little Miss Normal! LMN LMN LMN!

"Each of my wife's children had a chance of inheriting her condition. Our eldest, Bec's brother, did not get it. Tara did not get it. The signs are that Bec does have Lambrecht's Syndrome in some form or other, though we will need to have her tested to be sure." Both Miss Webster and Mr Shankie turned to look at me. Stone face! LMN! Stone face! I was watching Miss Webster — trying to see how she reacted but she had stone face on and she is so much better at stone face than anyone else I know. LMN! Stone face! LMN!

"You will notice in the literature that the Syndrome first appears during adolescence. At first, episodes are much shorter, anything between thirty minutes and a few hours have been reported and they occur more frequently. They can sometimes be hard to detect unless you know what to look for, often the person involved isn't aware of them either. Other episodes can be very dramatic and obvious to everyone." Hmm. That explains a few things. Oops. Stone face. LMN.

"We think Bec has been experiencing minor episodes for some time now, perhaps for as long as six months to a year." Oh! That was news (At least I think it was news. I couldn't remember anyone saying that last night but maybe they did.) I tried to pretend I knew it and kept my stone face going.

"My point is, Bec has almost certainly experienced several episodes here at school without causing any real problems, so there is no need to treat her differently now that you know what is going on. If she does have a more dramatic episode at school perhaps you will be able to manage the situation without over-reacting. I find with my wife that if it is possible to do so, allowing her to do what she wants to do is the best way to avoid problems. I'm aware that isn't always possible.

"Last night Bec finally started to understand the implications of all of this. Understandably, she was fairly upset. I was quite prepared to keep her at home today, but she seemed okay this morning and she insisted on coming to school, so here we are."

Dad turned his big green eyes on me and stared at me, trying to reassure himself that I was still okay. Hmmm, big test, Dad can see through most things. LMN stone face LMN. I nodded at him, trying to say I was still okay without actually using words. I didn't trust my voice to work properly with all that pressure going on.

"High levels of stress can bring on an episode so I wouldn't have been surprised if she had been showing the effects this morning, but as you can see, Bec seems to be fully in control right now."

That was pretty much the end of the meeting. Miss Webster asked a few questions which Dad answered, then they all did the shaking hands thing and Dad left for work. I said thank you to Miss Webster and that came out sounding mostly right except maybe a little squeaky at the start.

I left the meeting pretty pleased with myself that I'd managed to get through the whole meeting without looking miserable and without doing anything crazy. This whole LMN plan was working pretty well. In fact it was working better than well because I really was feeling okay. Liz was waiting for me at my locker and we smiled and hugged and kissed each other like we hadn't seen each other for days. We waited there until the bell rang and then we linked arms and headed off to our first class together.

-------

First period was English and Mrs Stone was running a discussion about different types of loyalty and examples in books and films. My usual plan during school is to play invisible and not say anything. If I get asked a direct question I go to single short words like "yes," "no" and "maybe." I figured out that Little Miss Normal would probably not hide but actually give an opinion. The only problem now was actually to think of an opinion that LMN could have. I listened carefully and figured out that a lot of the suggestions were referring to war films and examples of loyalty to the country. That gave me an idea so a bit nervously I put my hand up. I think Mrs Stone was so used to me being invisible that she didn't see it at first. When she did notice my hand was up, her eyebrows went right up under her fringe, but she called my name just like she called anyone. I stared straight at Liz in her seat near me and I said how in Lord of the Rings, Sam was so loyal to Frodo that he stuck by his friend totally, even when Frodo was going crazy because of the ring, Sam stayed right with him and supported him and even carried him.

My voice must have been a bit quiet because Mrs Stone repeated my comment for the whole class to hear and said it was a good example of loyalty between friends, then she moved on to the next person. I know Liz heard what I said because she was watching me and I saw her eyes go all wide and glistening when I said it. She knew what I was talking about and she knew I'd just tried to thank her in a public sort of way. When I finished, she looked at me a bit longer, then her lip kind of quivered. Liz then ducked her head so her hair fell over her face and stared down at the desk for the rest of the discussion.

At the end of the lesson, Mrs Stone came over to me and quietly complimented me for making a good contribution to the discussion. She said she thought it was the first time I had done so in her class. I figured she was right because it was probably the first time I ever did it voluntarily in any class since coming to this school. But I did it then because Little Miss Normal would have done it, so that meant I had to.

After class, Liz hugged me and kissed my cheek and whispered thank you in my ear. We held hands and went to our next class. Because we were holding hands, all my books were under my left arm. On the way to next class, I saw an arm with an orange sleeve appear and knock the books out of my hand and onto the floor. The laughter that followed was easily recognizable as belonging to Laura DiMartino, the Queen Bitch of the school. I looked up and saw Laura with her arm around the neck of a girl who looked just like me, only wearing an orange sweater. Who needs enemies when you have sisters? I could hear Laura's voice clearly as she congratulated Tara for showing that little brat her place in the world. Tara just laughed and kept walking away with Laura and the rest of their crowd. She didn't look back once.

Liz helped me pick up my books and we headed to math. I hadn't done the homework of course, and Mr Palu had decided to spend the first half of the lesson going through the homework. Mr Palu is a really nice guy — probably the nicest teacher I've ever had, but he's a useless math teacher. Most of what I learned about math that whole year I learnt by reading the textbook and doing the homework. I shook my head to myself and opened my math workbook. The book fell open to the most recent pages I'd used and there was my original prom dress sketch. I flipped over the page and there were the details of the bodice that I'd done at the mall.

My head swirled with the various images I'd been drawing and I ended up thinking about the one of future-me breaking through the mirror. As Tara had explained to Miss Webster yesterday, I was trying to show future-me breaking through and becoming real. I was trying to show me turning into her. But what if she never broke through the mirror? What if somehow this thing I have stopped all that happening?

I turned to a fresh page and started drawing.

-------

The bell, ringing to end the class, jolted me and I growled to myself in frustration. This meant I had to pack up and move to a different class and I wasn't finished drawing. Liz bounced out of her seat and asked to see what I had been drawing but it wasn't finished so I didn't want to show her. Mr Palu came up to me and gave me a printout that listed the homework and the topics covered for this week and next week. He told me to just make sure I got it all done before the end of term.

Next class was history and Mrs Nelson was giving a lecture about something that happened centuries ago that was only important because it gave history teachers something to talk about. I opened my math book again and went back to my drawing.

Suddenly Mrs Nelson was standing beside me and yelling at me because she'd asked me a question and I'd ignored her. I told her I was sorry but I didn't hear the question and she started yelling at me for drawing instead of taking notes about her stupid lecture. She demanded I hand over the picture I'd drawn and I said no. I clutched the book to my chest and she yelled at me some more about insolence and demanded again that I hand over the book to her but I just said no again.

The bell for the end of class rang and Mrs Nelson escorted me to the principal's office. I sat on the bench outside and clutched my math book to my chest while Mrs Nelson stormed into Miss Webster's office and complained in a loud voice about my behavior. I started to think that maybe I'd mucked up and forgotten to follow the LMN plan.

I could just hear Miss Webster's calm voice replying. She asked Mrs Nelson if she'd read the memo that had been distributed this morning just before class about me. Mrs Nelson said no, she'd been busy finishing preparations for her classes and intended to read it later. Miss Webster told her it asked the faculty to be tolerant if I was a bit distracted but to report any changes in behavior to her. Mrs Nelson kind of went humph and then said she was now reporting that after being a conscientious and polite student all year, suddenly I wasn't! Then she came out of the office and went to walk away. Miss Webster had followed her to the doorway and was standing there when Mrs Nelson turned back so they talked right over the top of me. Mrs Nelson pointed at the book I was holding and said to Miss Webster that she was also reporting that the drawing I'd done, based on the what she'd seen of it, was really quite disturbing and the "girl" should probably spend some time talking to the Student Welfare Officer. With that, Mrs Nelson turned on her heel and disappeared — well not really, but she left anyway. I guess I really made a mess of the LMN plan, huh?

So there I was in the principal's office for the third time in two days. I wondered if that was some kind of record. This time it was just me and Miss Webster. I still clutched the book to my chest. I slumped in the chair and stared at the table. Miss Webster just sat and looked at me for a moment. It was like this silence between us was threatening to go on forever. I was wondering if it was worth trying to start up my Little Miss Normal plan again or if it was too late for that.

When she finally spoke, Miss Webster's voice was gentle; like she was talking to a frightened animal and didn't want to scare it. Maybe she was.

"So have you been drawing again?"

I decided that even if LMN was in tatters, I still should be polite. After all, Miss Webster had been pretty decent to me over the last couple of days. The least she deserved was me being rude to her. I carefully shifted myself up until I was sitting more upright and looked up at her. Then I nodded. I carefully put the closed book down on the table in front of me, and then I looked back at Miss Webster.

"May I see your new picture?"

I glanced down at the closed book. "It's not finished." Amazingly enough, my voice came out clearly enough to be heard, even though it wasn't very loud.

"Ah! Is that why you didn't want Mrs Nelson to take the picture, because it's not finished?"

"I guess!" Well no, not really. I just didn't want her to have the picture because she was yelling at me. I looked up at Miss Webster again. There was no stone face now. There was just this nice lady who wanted to help me.

"Would you like to sit here for a while and finish it?"

I stared at her for a moment. That was unexpected. I expected her to lecture me about disrespecting Mrs Nelson. She just looked at me. I wondered why she was looking at me and then realized she was waiting for an answer. "Yes, thank you."

She nodded and stood. "I have some things I need to check down at the cafeteria. No one will bother you in here." She left, closing the door behind her.

I opened up my book and laid it flat on the table. It opened straight to the right page because the pencil I'd been using had been left there when I slammed the book shut. I put the pencil on the table out of the way and looked at the picture I'd drawn. Well pictures, really, because I'd done it in a kind of comic book style with a series of panels down the page. I fiddled with the pencil but didn't use it. I guess it really was finished.

The first panel was based on Mom's painting of the new me. The one where that other me was standing holding the mirror up, except that I'd drawn her inside the mirror with her hand up on the side of the mirror. It was just a small sketch and so even though in my head she was nude like in Mom's painting, there wasn't enough detail there for a person to work that out just by looking. I was pretty pleased that I'd captured the whole confident stance and look though.

The next panel showed her trying to break through the mirror and not being able to. The panel after that showed her just banging her fists on the inside of the glass and a look of despair on her face. The next few panels showed her getting weaker and weaker and thinner and thinner until she was just like a skeleton covered with skin like those pictures of prisoners in those concentration camps. The last few panels show her gradually collapsing until there's just a pile of bones inside the mirror.

In all these panels, there is just a suggestion of the real me standing on the outside of the mirror and looking in, watching all this happen.

The very final panel is on the facing page and it's three times bigger than all the others. It shows the mirror with its pile of bones and in front of the mirror, facing out of the page is me — the real me — wearing the prom dress and looking all nice and pretty. Except in the mirror you can see my back and it's all rotted away and hollowed out and empty and crawling with maggots. Yes I know, I took the idea from Mom's picture of the bowl of fruit, but she always says there are no new ideas in art, just old ideas looked at from a new angle. I could see Mrs Nelson's point. It was a pretty disturbing picture. It was definitely not a drawing that Little Miss Normal would do. I cursed myself for forgetting about the plan.

In fact the picture was so disturbing I wondered if I was really okay. An okay person wouldn't draw something so extreme. Would they? Maybe my whole plan was a failure. Maybe I couldn't make myself better just by pretending. My dreams of a Little Miss Normal book started to crumble. No wait! I mustn't give up that easily. I just forgot to follow the plan, that's all. It was silly to expect the whole LMN plan to work perfectly in just a few hours. I would stick with it for longer and give it a chance to work.

There was a knock and the door opened a bit. It was Mr Palu, my math teacher. Mr Palu seemed surprised to see me sitting there.

"Oh! I was looking for Miss Webster. Apparently she asked to see Melissa DiMartino," with that he stepped sideways and I saw Melissa was standing just behind him. Melissa was in my class and was the sister of Laura who Tara hung around with. You know, Laura DiMartino, the queen of all bitches. Melissa wasn't nearly as bad as her sister. She kept pretty much to herself but she often spoke up in class and had good ideas and asked sensible questions so I figured she was pretty smart. She mostly left me alone too. I mean she laughed with everyone else when Hannah Fargo made comments about me, but otherwise she never did anything bad.

I sat up straight and smiled at Mr Palu. "Miss Webster had to leave! She put me in charge. I'm the principal now."

I was making jokes with a teacher. That was something I never did at school. I don't know why I did it. I wondered if this fitted in the LMN plan. Too bad! Having started I just had to keep going, you can't stop half way through something like that, it makes you look silly.

I was a bit surprised when Mr Palu suddenly grinned at me and nodded. "Fair enough! A good choice too, if I may say so. I'm sure you'll do an excellent job. By the way, since you're the principal, do you think I could have a pay raise?"

"Sure you can." I remembered I had a couple of dimes in my pocket. I nodded at him and pulled a dime out. I flipped it across the room to him and he caught it neatly out of the air. "I know it's not much but the school budget is very tight and all."

Mr Palu was looking at the dime and chuckling quietly. "Well thank you, Miss Freeman. This is most generous of you."

"Now was there anything else I can help you with Mr Palu? I'm a very busy person you know, what with a school to run and all."

"Well sure, I guess you should talk to Melissa DiMartino then." He gestured at Melissa for her to enter the room, which she did. "Oh, and if Miss Webster returns and wants her school back, would you please remind her that she was going to schedule a substitute teacher for me for tomorrow. If she leaves you in charge, you'll just have to schedule one for me. Otherwise you'll have to take my classes yourself. Good luck with that." He left and pulled the door closed behind him. I could hear him whistling as he walked away.

Melissa kind of looked at me. I shrugged at her and waved at a chair. "I guess you may as well sit down. Miss Webster didn't say how long she would be."

Melissa sat and then flapped her hand at the door. "That was sort of funny. I didn't know you had a sense of humor like that." Then she shrugged, "I guess I don't know you much at all. You hardly ever say anything in class and we've never talked with each other."

I guess I kind of blinked at her. I wasn't sure I wanted to have anything to do with her because of her sister, but she was actually being nice and I didn't know what to do.

"Are you in trouble too?"

"I don't think so," she wrinkled her eyebrows while she thought. "It's probably something to do with my father. He's on the school board. I've had to take packages home a few times before."

"Oh!" I didn't know what else to say. An awkward sort of silence started up.

"Is that the drawing Mrs Nelson threw a fit over? That was impressive, I have to tell you. I've never seen her get so red in the face. I heard you were good at drawing but I've never seen anything you've done. Can I see it?"

I glanced down at my drawing and shrugged. "I guess." I pushed it over to her.

"It might not make much sense without the one I did yesterday. That's kind of the person I want to be stuck behind the mirror, all confident and strong. I guess I was thinking about what happens if she never gets out."

I watched as her eyes flicked over the drawings. I realized I was nervous about her reaction. She was more or less a stranger to me, and I was exposing one of my innermost fears to her. It occurred to me that if she told her sister about this, Laura would have another weapon she could use against me next time she decided to be a bitch to me. Maybe I should have just said no.

"Rebecca this is amazing! It's an awesome drawing. And this is something I worry about too. I've had nightmares about ending up like this," she pointed at the last frame. "Appearing all fancy but completely rotten on the inside."

That was a good description of Laura DiMartino. I wondered if Melissa worried so much because she saw what her sister was like. I wondered if Melissa's nightmare was that she would end up like her sister. If I had a sister like Laura, I'd be worried too. Wait a minute! Maybe I do have a sister like Laura — well she's one of Laura's sheep anyway.

She pointed at the first panel. "When I came in here, you were looking exactly like that. If you weren't twelve years old, I would have believed you were the principal, you looked so confident. I've never seen you look like that before. So you normally hide who you really are at school. So what? Everyone does that. I sure do!" And with that, she pushed my book back across to the table to me.

I blinked at her, trying to understand what she was telling me. She was just this kid in my class and she was saying I was already out of the mirror! Could I believe her? No wait. This was LMN. She'd seen LMN and been fooled by her. Maybe the plan could work after all. Maybe I could become Little Miss Normal and convince everyone that I was not just okay but also better — improved — more mature — whatever.

Miss Webster returned just then. She bustled in with an armful of folders and stacked them on one of the many shelves that hung on the walls of her office.

"Mr Palu was looking for you. He asked me to remind you about getting a substitute teacher for tomorrow."

"Yes, I know. I ran into him in the hallway. He informed me that you were a better principal than I had been and then he wished me well in whatever my new career was to be. As you can imagine, I was a little surprised to hear that I had been ejected from my job. I asked him for an explanation and he told me how he'd found you in here running the school as well as any professional." Miss Webster said all of this with a completely straight face, but I could see a twinkle in her eye. Somehow, luckily, she found the whole thing funny and was playing along.

"He also let slip that the reason you had his vote was that you had given him a pay raise; something he hadn't been able to get from me."

"That's right! He asked for a pay raise and I had some coins in my pocket so I gave him a dime. He seemed pretty happy about that. I told him he couldn't have any more because the school had a budget."

"A dime? You said he could have a pay raise and then you gave him ten cents?"

I nodded and she burst out laughing. "That's delightful. Now why didn't I think of doing that? Melissa, I have a package for you to take home to your father, but if you don't mind waiting a few minutes I need to make a change to a couple of documents." She turned and bustled out of the room.

Melissa turned to me with big eyes. "I can't believe Miss Webster was laughing like that. I always thought she was so cold and strict."

"That's just what I call her stone face. She puts it on so people don't know what she's thinking. I'm beginning to think she's really nice. You know, on the inside."

Melissa nodded just as Miss Webster came back into the room and went to the computer on her desk. She opened up a file and made some changes, then printed it and opened up a second file and did the same. Then she grabbed a big yellow envelope packed with papers off one of her shelves. She took out a couple of pages and put the new printouts in. She was humming quietly to herself.

"There, that should do it. Melissa, would you please make sure all that gets home to your father. He is expecting it." With that she handed the big envelope to Melissa.

"Yes ma'am."

Miss Webster turned to me, "You'll be pleased to know the changes I just made are to confirm Mr Palu's pay raise. I'm sure we can squeeze ten cents out of the budget somehow. A promise is a promise and you did promise him a pay raise."

I kind of gaped at Miss Webster. She had this twinkle in her eye. I figured she was looking forward to explaining to the school board that Mr Palu should get a ten cent pay raise because a student had sat in her office and said he should get it. Maybe school board meetings were boring and she wanted to have some fun. I don't know.

"Well Melissa, you better head back to class, I need to have a private word with Rebecca."

"Yes ma'am" Melissa stood and with a last glance at me, headed out of the office.

"So Rebecca, in between the demands of your brief tenure as principal, did you manage to finish your drawing?"

I looked down at my book. I hadn't touched it since Miss Webster had left the room. I had shown it to Melissa. I guess that means it was finished. "Yes, Miss Webster."

"Well, may I see it?"

I carefully pushed the book across the table to her. It was already open so all she had to do was turn the book around so it was facing her. I saw her face get a look of concentration on her face as her eyes scanned through the panels. After what Melissa had said I felt a bit more confident about the picture but I guess I was still a bit nervous.

"I can see why Mrs Nelson thought your picture was disturbing. This last picture is a very strong image Rebecca; and the sequence as a whole tell a very powerful story. May I try to interpret what I'm seeing? Please correct me if I am at all mistaken."

I nodded to her.

"I understand from yesterday that this image behind the mirror is the person you want to be; a person who is strong and confident and beautiful and mature. How am I doing so far?"

I nodded but then I realized she hadn't looked up from the page so I had to speak. "Yes ma'am."

"The sequence of panels suggests to me that you are worried you will never get to be that person. You are afraid that your dreams will wither and die and that raises a most important question. What happens to you if you don't become that person? This final drawing appears to be your answer to that question."

"Yes." My voice came out so soft that I'm sure she didn't hear it. She looked up at me and I nodded then stared down at the table trying hard not to cry. A part of my brain pointed out to me that if I didn't do pictures that were all about what I was feeling then people wouldn't see through me so easily. Another part of my brain pointed out that crying right now would definitely not fit into the LMN plan so I better not cry.

"Rebecca I want you to listen to me very carefully." Her voice was gentle but firm at the same time.

I looked up at her, partly because of what she was saying and partly because Little Miss Normal always sat up and listened politely. I wasn't crying but the room did look a bit misty.

"One of the things people of your age struggle with is that you all try to view the world in black and white. People are either good or they're bad. An answer is either right or it's wrong. Your drawing is like that. You see the future as either you become this person in which case everything is fine, or you don't in which case everything is terrible.

"The real world isn't like that. It's full of shades of gray. Real people do a mixture of good things and bad things. Answers to the important questions are often only partially right. No solution to a real problem is going to please everyone. The future isn't going to be world peace or complete devastation — it will be something in between. And we all hope and pray and work towards something closer to world peace than the other option. Your personal future is a bit like that too.

"I can guarantee you are becoming a young woman something like this one." She pointed at the first panel with one strong, stubby finger. "The real question is how much like her are you going to be and that is something you have a lot of control over. That ideal person you have in your head is someone you should work towards and celebrate every step you get closer. Is what I am saying making sense to you?"

I nodded; my eyes bright. It was making sense — a lot of sense.

"I will say something else. You have already made huge steps along the path to becoming this young woman." Again her stubby finger stabbed the first panel of my picture. "I watched you yesterday when your little sister arrived, what was her name?"

"Angie — Angela"

"Yes, Angela! When Angela ran into the room, in a heartbeat you changed from an upset little schoolgirl into a confident big sister. You probably didn't notice but I walked past you a bit later when you and your mother were discussing the art display. You held your sister and talked about art with your mother with all the surety and strength and confidence of a woman twice your age. You looked and acted just like this!" And for third time, her stubby finger stabbed down onto the first panel of my picture. The panel showing that future ideal me that I had worried I might never become.

"All we need to do now, Rebecca, is somehow encourage you to be more like this in all parts of your life, including school. That would be a big victory!"

I stared at her and tried to think. Could she be right? Could it be true? Wait! Just like with Melissa, this was the LMN plan. It had even fooled Miss Webster. That was pretty impressive. But just a second! Miss Webster was talking about yesterday. I didn't start Little Miss Normal until this morning. Yesterday I was just being me.

A scary thought started to form in my head.

Maybe, just maybe...

She was right!

-------

Miss Webster was watching me carefully. I sat there, upright, looking back at her. I think different emotions were going over my face like a slide show. She must have seen something she liked because she gave this little nod and then closed my book before handing it back to me.

"Let's leave it at that, will we? Rebecca you look a little tired, would you like to go to the nurse's station and lie down for a while?"

"No thank you, Miss Webster, I'd like to go back to class if I may." Why did she ask that? I felt fine.

"Certainly, if that's what you wish. Perhaps next time you have a class with Mrs Nelson, an apology for your behavior today might be in order. Hmm?"

"Yes Miss Webster. I'm sorry!"

"Off you go now. Your last class of the morning should be about to start. From memory that would be PE. Am I correct?"

"Yes Miss Webster."

"Well you just head down to the gym and you can wait there for your class to arrive. Off you go."

Off I went!

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Our so-called gym is a large room just a bit bigger than half a basketball court. Attached to it are the tiniest changing rooms you could imagine. All this for a school of our size — pathetic isn't it? We mostly do PE classes out of doors unless it's raining or freezing. It was raining so our class was inside and we did gymnastics. Little Miss Normal joined in and did all the tumbles and balances and vaults and stuff with everyone else. During the pauses, while waiting for my turn, I looked around the room and looked at the rest of the class.

For probably the first time I actually watched Melissa. She moved like a dancer, floating over the floor in her run-ups and jumps. Her actual tumbles were less polished but she always came out of them and immediately regained that grace and poise that dancers have. I never knew she was a dancer, I just worked it out from watching her doing gymnastics that day.

Liz, of course threw herself into this like she did everything. She flung herself onto the ground and her tumbles were always a mass of elbows and knees pointing in every direction then she would be up and looking flushed but triumphant as if she'd just pulled off a gold medal in the World Gymnastics Championships. Liz got As in a lot of subjects, not because she was brilliant but she always impressed the teachers with how hard she had a go at things.

Hannah Fargo was really bad at gymnastics. She postured and posed and boasted and made it all look like she didn't care and that when she fluffed a simple tumble it was because she wasn't trying, not because she couldn't do it. I looked around the class and wondered how many people were buying her big act — most of them it seemed like!

There were fourteen boys in my class and for the first time ever I really looked at them. One boy, Joe Orman, was really large, both tall and heavy. He also looked physically older than most of the others, I suppose puberty and all that but I guess I never listened to enough about what boys go through to be sure. He wasn't super athletic but he was in the flag football team because of his size.

A couple of the others were kind of tallish and gangly — all arms and legs and awkward movements. The rest were all smaller than nearly every girl in the room and looked like they still belonged in elementary school. Huh! I wondered if that was normal. They must all have not started puberty yet or not had growth spurts or anything.

All the boys seemed to spend their spare time wrestling and shoving each other around. When Joe shoved someone, they really got shoved, but the others seemed to just take it and shove right back at him — except when they shoved he hardly moved. I wondered if Dan had been like that when he was this age — bigger than all the other boys and hard to push around. Why were they doing all that stuff anyway?

I learnt a lot about the people in my class that PE period just by watching them do gymnastics and mingle with each other while they waited for their turn. Of course when I say mingle, the boys and girls didn't mingle with each other at all. I guess I'd never noticed that before either.

I slumped down against the wall and watched the class continue while I tried to figure out what was going on in that weird mixed-up brain of mine.

What's really upsetting is that all this stuff I learnt, I just learnt by watching them. I'd never seen it before. I'd been in the same class with these people forever and I'd never seen it before. I felt so stupid. Had I been walking around with my eyes shut for all this time? Amazing how I hadn't kept running into walls. What does all this say about me that I never noticed all this before?

Liz appeared in front of me and hauled me to my feet.

"I'm supposed to take you to the nurse's station so you can lie down. Miss M thinks you look exhausted."

She grabbed my hand and led me into the changing room to grab my stuff. I followed like a lamb. My brain was whirling too much to resist.

I thought Little Miss Normal was just a shield that I could hide behind. Someone I could pretend to be that would convince everyone — even me — that I was okay. But LMN was more than that. She was showing me stuff I never knew. She was making me do stuff I never did. She was holding up a mirror and showing me stuff about myself that I didn't like very much.

What I didn't like the most, was that for all this time I'd lived every day at school wrapped up in my own little world and ignoring all the people around me. They were just objects that occupied the space around me. Objects that got in the way when I walked down the hallways. Objects that sometimes pushed me or ridiculed me but mostly just ignored me. They either gave me a hard time or they left me alone but they were just objects, not people with their own problems and their own feelings and their own reasons for doing things.

The nurse took one look at me and made me lie down on the bed. They all seemed to think I was tired. I didn't understand why they thought that but I couldn't be bothered arguing. I wasn't tired. I was thinking. I was listing off all the things that Little Miss was showing me about myself that I didn't like. It was a long list.

I stared at the ceiling and decided that I could sum up the list with just one sentence.

I didn't like that all the time I'd been at this school I'd been a self-centered, selfish little bitch!

At least I wasn't like that at home.

Was I?

What did I really know about Tara and Dan and Dad and Mom?

What did I really know about what they liked and what they hated?

What did I really know about what they thought?

When had I ever tried to find out?

?

?

?

Oh shit!



-------

Chapter 15 : Thursday after school



"Miss Freeman?"

The voice seemed a long way away, but not loud. It was like someone was talking to me from the other end of a big empty hall.

"Rebecca Freeman, can you hear me?"

Yes, I could hear her. I didn't recognize the voice. I didn't feel like responding. But I could hear her.

"Rebecca it's time to wake up now."

Wake up? Was I asleep? I sure felt warm and comfortable and cozy and relaxed. As Mom often said, I was as snug as a bug in a rug. Maybe I was asleep.

A hand gently gripped my shoulder and gave me the tiniest of shakes.

"Wha... ? What is it?" My voice sounded weak in that same big empty hall. I could hear it all croaky and hoarse and confused — just like Tara sounds like when she's woken up from a deep, deep sleep.

"It's time for you to get moving."

The voice was gentle but I still didn't recognize it. I had no idea who the woman was or where I was. I turned my head and looked towards the voice but my eyes weren't working properly. I blinked my eyes several times and a blurry figure started to come into focus. I think I might have been dreaming, but I couldn't remember the dreams. I just had the after effects of images that had flashed in front of my eyes and then were gone.

"Where... ?" My voice, still croaky and weak, wasn't far away anymore — it was right there next to me.

My eyes came into focus and my brain reminded me at the same time. It was the school nurse and I'd been lying on the bed in the nurse's office at school.

" ... oh!" Now I felt embarrassed. I'd gone to sleep at school! How could I do that? Oh no! What sort of duffer am I? They'll all call me a dork now for sure.

"Is it time to go to lunch?" My voice was still hoarse but at least the confused sound was gone ... mostly.

"No dear, you slept right through lunch period. It's nearly the end of the day and it's time for you to go home."

Damn! I'd slept for hours! The nurse offered me a plastic cup filled with water and I sipped at it, trying to get the frog out of my throat.

"You were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow. Have you not been sleeping well lately?"

"I guess. I woke up about three this morning and couldn't go back to sleep." My voice was soft but at least the croak was gone. Damn frogs!

"Well that explains it!" Her concerned face got replaced by a beaming smile as if she'd just solved all the problems of the universe.

A light blanket had been put over me while I slept, so I had to push it off before I could sit up. I'd slept in my clothes and I rubbed a sore spot on my tummy where I'd lain right on the button of my jeans.

"I phoned your mother and suggested she come to pick you up but she said if we didn't mind that we should just let you sleep. I'm also to tell you that your brother will meet you here after school lets out so don't catch the bus."

"Oh! Okay!" I swung my feet down to the floor and immediately trod on my shoes. Apparently I'd taken them off before I lay down on the bed but I didn't remember doing that. I busied myself putting my shoes on, and then the nurse handed me a wet cloth so I could wash my face. The warmth and wetness of the cloth felt good and helped to finish waking up. The nurse took back the cloth and swapped it for a small towel so I could dry my face.

"Do you have a brush with you? You might need to have a quick go at your hair before you face the world."

"Oh thanks!" I looked around and spotted my bag that Liz had brought with us when she brought me here. I dug out my brush and sat back down on the bed so I could start working on my hair.

"You should know that I've seen the memo from Miss Webster about you. Also I have a copy of that information from your father about Lambrecht's Syndrome that I've read and put into your file. If you have any problems at school, or you just want to talk to someone, please don't hesitate to come and see me."

"Oh thanks!" I kept brushing my hair. She wanted me to talk to her but I couldn't even remember her name. Most people just called her nurse! Wait no they didn't, it was Nurse W ... something. Wendy? Whitney? Wanda? That was it, Nurse Wanda. I couldn't remember ever hearing a surname that went with it. Maybe she only had one name, like Cher. Or maybe her surname was Wanda and her first name really was Nurse. I giggled a bit to myself about that.

My giggle turned into an "oops!" as my tummy rumbled loud enough for Nurse Wanda to hear.

"I guess I slept right through lunch!"

"I guess you did!!" She smiled gently at me then fished around in a drawer. "I have a supply of energy bars here. Are you allergic to peanuts?"

"No ma'am!"

"Good! These days we have to ask!" Then she tossed me a Balance Bar, which I managed to catch left-handed without fumbling. Yes! I thanked her and dropped both the energy bar and my brush into my lap while I pulled back my hair and tied it with my scrunchy. Then I tore the wrapper off the Balance Bar and bit off such a huge mouthful that I had to cover my mouth with my hand while I ate it.

-------

I was waiting at Liz's locker when she arrived after the last class. We hugged and she teased me gently about having come up with two different ways to get out of class in one day. All I could do was laugh that off. We dug her bags out of her locker and went to a bathroom so she could change into her leathers. It didn't take long, but as always I marvelled about how different she looked in the black leather pants and black jacket. Her jacket had a little design on the left breast which was a copy of the big design her dad had on the back of his favorite jacket. The whole effect made her look ... sexy. That was a new thought. I tilted my head and watched her as she packed her school clothes into her bag. The leather pants clung tightly around her bum and hugged her legs. Definitely sexy!

Together we went to the front desk to collect her helmet then went outside to the front steps to wait for her dad and my brother.

There was no sign of either so we stood off to the side, out of the way of the streams of kids pouring down the steps, and chatted while we waited.

Hannah Fargo was standing nearby with three cronies and she looked Liz up and down with a sneer.

"I bet you think dressing like that makes you tough."

Liz stared coldly back at Hannah. "I dress like this because I'm about to get on the back of my dad's bike and I don't want to have scars for the rest of my life if we get knocked over. Wearing leathers doesn't make me tough. What makes me tough is that I don't need to make puerile comments about how other people look to hide my own insecurities."

A bunch of people standing nearby all laughed and clapped and whistled at that. Hannah had first looked confused, I figured there were at least two words in there that she didn't know, but as soon as the laughter started she realized she was being insulted and started walking towards us with a glare on her face and clenched fists.

Liz wasn't finished. "The other thing that makes me tough is I don't need to punch you to prove that I'm better than you, but if you come over here and attack me I will punch you and you will get hurt."

I knew that Liz wasn't making empty threats though I doubted if many others at school knew it. Her father had been teaching her how to fight for years. She always looks so pretty and delicate but if I was a betting person I'd put money on her in a fight with nearly any kid in the school — girl or boy. The thing was, she somehow managed to avoid getting into fights. She'd given one boy a bloody nose a year ago when he grabbed her bum but everyone at the time had assumed it was some sort of fluke.

Liz just stood there looking calm and watched Hannah stalk towards her. Somehow that calm waiting got through to Hannah and she stopped before the two of them came within reach of each other.

"Fuck off Lizzie! Lizzie the Lezzy!"

Liz just burst out laughing at that. Then she turned her back on Hannah and bent down to pick up her bags and helmet. Liz glanced at me and we headed down the steps to meet her dad who was just roaring up on his big motorbike.

"That's right, walk away you pair of fucking dykes! Look at them, fucking carpet-munchers..." The torrent of filth cut off abruptly as the teacher supervising the pickup point came walking up the stairs to investigate the shouting.

Liz was angry, really angry! I could tell by the stiff way she held her head and shoulders while she walked. I couldn't think of anything to say so I just walked right beside her with my head up and did my best Little Miss Normal impersonation. I reached out one hand and took one of her bags, managing to give her a little squeeze on the hand when I did so.

I was just so amazingly impressed with what she had done. I wish I could stand up to people like she did. I knew those words were bad words for lesbians and I knew that Hannah was just screaming filth at us because Liz had stood up to her and Hannah hated anyone doing that to her.

Liz's dad had stopped the bike right in front of the steps and whipped his helmet off so he could greet us. He's a big bear of a man with a stomach that pushed out the front of his leather jacket. Dad and Dan are both big but he's even bigger. Hugging him is like trying to put your arms around a giant oak tree, but that's what Liz and I rushed to do. He greeted us and started to ask about our day but Liz cut him off and asked him to just get her out of there.

A sleek bright yellow sports car had pulled in behind him and beeped its horn. Mr Davidson just waved at it and yelled "Hold your horses!" while he and Liz opened the pannier things on the bike and started squeezing Liz's bags inside. When that was done, Liz turned to me and we hugged briefly. She grabbed both my upper arms and looked me straight in the eye:

"Don't let Hannah Fargo get to you Bec. She's just an idiot with a big mouth."

I shrugged at her. I'd been listening to Hannah making comments like that to me and others for years. Sometimes it got me down but mostly I just tried to ignore her. Also I was fairly sure I wasn't a lesbian, but after this week I was starting to think that maybe I was bisexual. I figured Hannah wasn't likely to stand still and listen to an explanation from me about the difference though, so I just kept my mouth shut and gave Liz another hug.

We'd just started the usual goodbye, see you soon routine when we were suddenly distracted by a familiar voice yelling "Hey." We looked over at the yellow sports car and there was Dan leaning against it with a big grin on his face. The two of us squealed and ran over to him. He got hugs from both of us as well ... an only slightly smaller oak tree and not so much stomach.

Liz and I were totally amazed at the car. I don't know anything about cars and what brands they are and stuff like that, but this was very bright yellow and low to the ground and had no roof and looked very sleek and stylish and expensive. I could feel the eyes of hundreds of kids, including Hannah Fargo, staring at us with envy.

Dan leaned down close to the two of us and whispered, "It's not really mine, I borrowed it from a friend at college, but I thought it would help make tonight a bit special for you."

I gave Dan a big kiss and then hugged him again while standing up on my toes so I could whisper "thank you thank you thank you" in his ear. Liz squeezed in to hug me from behind and said into my ear how lucky I was and how she was insanely jealous. I just stayed stuck in the middle like the filling of a sandwich and felt very loved.

Mr Davidson revved his engine with a roar and Liz yelled a quick "see you tomorrow" at me. She quickly put her helmet on and then swung her leg over the back of the bike so she could take her place scrunched up behind her father. He waited until she had fixed the strap on her helmet and got a secure grip on his belt before giving us a quick wave and then roared away into the traffic.

Dan opened the door of the car for me and I stepped in, even though I could have just jumped over the sides like they do in movies. I wriggled a bit, tucked my bag under my feet and then sank down into the incredibly comfy seat. Dan handed me a pair of sunglasses so nothing would blow into my eyes. I put them on, rested my arm on the side of the car and tried to look casual. There was a whole bunch of students standing around staring at the car. I guess in some places, cars like that are pretty normal and people see them all the time, but around our school they were unusual enough that it was drawing a crowd. With so many people staring, I think normally I would be trying to hide round about now, but Little Miss Normal takes these things in her stride so I just sat there and tried not to let my grin split my face in half.

Dan revved the engine with a roar and I could feel the vibrations right through the floor and the seat. It wasn't like everything was shaking, but I could certainly feel it all the way down my back and around my bum and under my legs. Wow!!! Dan pulled out onto the road and we headed off. A few of the kids waved and I flipped my hand into a little wave back. Then I wondered why they would wave at me when mostly they just ignored me or made fun of me. That was weird.

There was wind blowing around the windscreen and pushing my hair around. I was glad I had it tied back or it would have been going everywhere. The engine was loud and the traffic noise was loud too, so talking to Dan involved talking past all of that, but it was still okay to talk, as long as you talked loud. The other thing was that I was sitting lower than normal. So for example, when we stopped beside a truck at some traffic lights, I was looking sideways at the wheels of the truck. That was weird. The truck driver was friendly though. He leant out of the window and smiled at me and did a whistle at me. I never got whistled at by truck drivers before. Dan said he was taking the long way so we could enjoy the drive. I sure was enjoying it. The feeling from the vibrations of the engine was a bit like sitting in those massage chairs they have in furniture shops that everyone always tries out but no one ever seems to buy — but maybe on a low setting if you get what I mean.

I asked Dan about the car and he told me its name. Half of its name was letters and numbers so I pretty much forgot it straight away, but I listened as Dan told me more about the car. I liked watching Dan talk and explain and get excited about how many CCs were inside the engine — I had to ask what a CC was but then Dan explained it and what he was saying made more sense. I guess I was more interested in watching him and hearing him talk than in actually understanding what he was saying. I wanted to know more about what Dan was interested in and this was the way to do it.

I asked Dan if he wished he owned a car like this and he rolled his eyes and trailed his fingers over the steering wheel.

"I'll admit that I'm loving driving this today and it's all very exciting. I suppose every guy has dreams about having an amazing car that impresses everyone. But I don't expect to ever be able to afford something like this. I'm going to be an engineer, not a lawyer."

"An engineer like Dad?"

"Dad's an electrical engineer, that's why he works at the power plant. I'm doing structural engineering, that's more like bridges and roofs over stadiums and things like that."

"Oh!" See, I was learning stuff. I hadn't even known there were different types of engineers. Dad never really explained what he does at work. He just always points at Homer Simpson and says "I do that, but I do it better," and then he laughs — Dad laughs a lot when The Simpsons are on. I used to worry when he said that. I didn't want him coming home with radioactive bar things sticking out of his back pocket because I was scared we would all get radioactive and glow in the dark. Then I worked out that his power station wasn't nuclear so I figured out that wasn't going to happen.

We talked a bit about famous bridges and how they used different ways to hold up the middle bit. I found I could understand and join in that conversation pretty well. Dan explained things really well and I found it interesting to think about how some bridges were held up by wires strung from the towers and others were held up by arches underneath and so on.

Round about then, Dan pulled into a little car park and said "We're here!"

I looked around and went "Huh? I thought you were taking me home."

He said "Nope. Mom's meeting you inside that door. This next bit is her birthday present for you so enjoy it. I have to get back to college for a team meeting about tomorrow's game. I'll collect you from home at six. See you then." With that he kissed me, booted me out of the car and tossed me my school bag before he roared off into the distance.

"Huh!"

I waved rather forlornly at the disappearing exhaust pipe. I'd kind of been enjoying talking to Dan and hadn't expected it to end so abruptly. And the vibrations of the car under the seat of my pants had started making me feel just a tiny bit warm and tingly too, but that was suddenly all gone as well. I guessed that since I would see him later and have the whole evening with him I shouldn't be too upset.

I shrugged to myself and then I turned around and looked at the building Dan had pointed out. It was a health spa and beauty parlor. Dan had said this was Mom's present for me. Awesome! I'd never been to one of those places but they sounded like good places to go to. The only thing I worried about was that I heard they were expensive so I hoped Mom hadn't sent us broke by bringing me to this place.

I went inside and saw Mom sitting on one of the comfortable lounges in the foyer. I went up to her and we hugged and kissed and said our hellos. Mom asked how I was feeling and I said I was fine. I guess I must have looked excited at being in there because she hugged me again and whispered "Happy Birthday" into my ear. She went up to the desk and told the elderly lady that we were ready and the lady took us through a door to a little waiting room.

The waiting room had floor to ceiling windows on one wall that looked out onto a tiny garden. Inside the windows were some more plants and a small fish pool with a tiny waterfall that made little tinkling water noises. There was a group of three business women in snappy dress suits sitting in one corner gossiping quietly and two middle aged men sitting at a table and reading newspapers. We sat in comfortable chairs and the lady gave us cups of chamomile tea to drink while we waited. Then she told us there would be about a ten minute wait and left us alone.

Mom and I chatted about stuff and Mom explained how she'd intended to give me a voucher for this place on my birthday but then I ended up having this date with Dan so she decided it would make the night even better if I got a bit pampered getting ready for it. Also she said that it gave her and me some alone time together, which she thought I might need after all the stuff that had happened this week. I wasn't ready to go all deep and meaningful so I tried to think of something to change the subject.

A nicely dressed woman entered through a different door and approached the two men. She politely asked them to follow her, and then she turned and left by the same door with the two men following her. We stopped chatting and watched this happen. I guess I was a bit surprised to see men in there, I kind of had the impression that only women went to a place like this. Mom said she thought men needed back massages as much as women did.

Listening to Mom talk I had noticed that Mom's accent was a bit stronger than normal, so I just had to ask. "Hey Mom, have you been talking to Nana today?"

"Yes sweetie, she came over and we had a nice lunch together. Now she's at home sitting Angie for me so I can be here with you. How could you tell?"

"I have my ways!"

She looked at me suspiciously. "Did Nana tell you she was visiting me today?"

"Nope! I haven't talked to Nana since last Friday night."

"Hmmm. Come on Bec, talk to me. How did you know?"

I grinned at her, a bit cheekily. "A girl has to have some secrets, you taught me that!"

"Oh for goodness sake! I meant you should keep secrets from other people. Mothers are exempt, didn't you understand that?" She slapped her forehead in pretend frustration. "I've raised a ninny. She thinks she's supposed to keep secrets from her own mother. What am I to do?" Realizing she wasn't going to get it out of me that way, she changed tactics and started glaring at me, "I have ways of making you talk!"

For once the glare didn't frighten me, so I just grinned at her some more. "You're pretty smart, you'll figure it out." I'd lost count of how many times Dad had said that little phrase to me, with Mom nodding and grinning her evil grin beside him. It was nice to use it back on her for once. Maybe now she might find out how frustrating it was.

Mom just started giggling and shaking her head at me, then that started me giggling. In amongst all the giggles, I suddenly realized something important. The two of us were behaving more like me and Liz than like me and Mom. Somehow, without even trying, we were hanging out together like two friends. I didn't know you could do with that with your mom. Wow!

We started back up chatting about trivial stuff and then watched as the same woman came back and collected the three business women. At around about the same time, the elderly lady from the front desk led in a pair of young women about twenty years old or so and served them the standard chamomile tea. They immediately sat down and started flipping through a pile of fashion magazines.

They ignored us so we went back to chatting with each other. Mom said that she'd had two phone calls from the school about me during the day and told me that was some kind of record. I only knew about the nurse phoning when I went to sleep, so I mentioned that. Mom explained that Miss Webster had also phoned and told her about me having been kicked out of class for drawing. I had my bag with me so Mom made me pull out the series of pictures I'd drawn and show them to her.

Mom looked carefully at the pictures and I could see an expression of concern come over her face. I cursed myself again for doing that drawing and decided that from now on I was only going to draw pictures of little birdies sitting in trees. She looked up and looked right into my eyes, "Honey, it's important that you tell me how you're feeling."

I ducked my eyes down to my lap, "I'm fine Mom."

"You weren't fine when you drew this! You were hurting. Please let me help you."

I fidgeted with my fingers as they sat there on my lap, my eyes just watching my fingers move. I tried to collect my thoughts. Damn! I wasn't ready for this talk.

"Mom, I guess I kind of freaked out last night. This morning I was still kind of upset but I was feeling a lot better. This afternoon I had a good sleep and now I'm feeling pretty good." That was more or less the truth.

"Sweetie, I understand how upsetting all this can be, but I've been there. I can help you cope with Lambrecht's. I can help you get used to the idea of having it. Please talk to me."

Huh! I thought I just did. What else did she want me to say? I wasn't sure if I was ready to say the big one, but I guess I was going to have to.

"Mom, I'm not sure ... I don't think I'm the same."

"What do you mean honey? What happened this morning, the way Miss Webster described it, was exactly what an episode of Lambrecht's Syndrome is like for an adolescent. If they ever write a textbook about all this they could use today as a perfect example."

"Yes, but ... I feel like there's more. I think there's something else ... you know ... wrong with me."

"Oh honey!" She leant forward and hugged me and kissed me. Then she sat back up and lifted my head up by my chin so I had no choice but look at her.

"I'm afraid it's pretty clear that you've got what I've got — and it's not something wrong with us, it's just a difference. We have to learn to accept that and learn how to live with it. Anything else you're feeling right now is only stress. I suppose that's not surprising."

"Yes, but..." I looked at Mom and stopped myself. She wasn't listening. She wasn't hearing what I was trying to say. Like most adults, she just heard what she expected to hear and tuned the rest of me out. She was the adult who knew everything and I was only a kid so what did I know?

Maybe I should have just blurted out that I thought I was going crazy. Nothing I'd heard about Lambrecht's explained how my brain had gone completely haywire last night. I was terrified that was going to happen again. Last night whatever was happening had eased off after a while and I'd slept, and when I woke up I was okay — well mostly okay.

What if next time it never stopped?

I'd spent all day carefully not thinking about this and I'd actually been okay, but now I could feel panic rising up in me like a flood. If I didn't do something soon, I was going to drown in it. Is it possible to drown from the inside? I don't know but that's what it felt like was happening.

Mom was just watching me with those big sad eyes and clinging onto my hand. Seeing her face like that reminded me about how early this morning I'd worked out how horrible it must be to watch someone hurting like that and not be able to help. I remembered that I'd decided not to make my family suffer like that.

I knew what to do. I forced the panic down, yelled at it, stomped on it, chased it down into the very bottom of my brain and pulled a rug over it so it was hidden from sight. Once that was done, I carefully and slowly got out my Little Miss Normal mask and put it on.

I managed a little smile and said, "Okay Mom, I guess I just have to learn how to live with it."

At that moment, the lady came in to collect us and we didn't get to talk any more.

I don't know if you've ever been in one of those places but it was all kind of weird and exciting at the same time. They really did pamper us and make us feel special. We had to change out of our clothes and I mean ALL of our clothes and put on these big long fluffy bath robes. There were lockers to put our clothes and bags in so that was okay but it felt weird being in a kind of public place wearing just a bathrobe.

Then we were taken and laid out face down on the funny tables. The bathrobes got taken off us and towels laid over us to hide our bums. These were ladies doing this so I guess it wasn't that bad but it was still kind of awkward for me. A bit later I figured out that a week before, I would have been completely freaked out by doing that, so I guess I was getting better — getting better with nudity stuff anyway.

A masseuse called Sara came up to me and asked me some questions about any injuries I had and what sport I did and stuff like that. Then she started giving me a massage. Wow! I'd had little gentle shoulder massages from Mom but this was completely different. For a start, Sara was using this warm, oily stuff that felt just divine. Also, she wasn't totally pounding me but she was strong and she wasn't being gentle. It took a bit to get used to it, but then I suddenly realized that where she was digging her fingers in to me was feeling good. As in Oh My God good!

Sara started with my shoulders and arms, and then she worked down my back. She stopped at the towel covering my bum and started working on my legs. She worked back up my legs and just naturally kept going up the back of my thighs and onto my bum. When she did that it felt so natural that I didn't even tense up. It wasn't weird at all. Only later did I think about how I'd let a complete stranger touch my bare bum without even worrying about it. How weird is that? Oh, and all the time my mom was lying on the table next to me and having the same thing done to her. How weird is that?

Sara put the towel back over my bum and did some more work on my shoulders. Then she rolled me over so she could do the front half of my shoulders and my legs. There were towels covering me of course, but by then I hardly cared. I was just feeling so good!

After the massage, we had a short shower to get all the oil off. Then we got our robes back on and went to a different room where we were sat down and they started doing all this skin stuff. Mom got "exfoliated" which is a nice way of saying they waxed her in all sorts of places. They said I was lucky and didn't need that. Then we both got covered with goop and wrapped in hot damp towels. It was like sitting in a steam bath. They replaced the towels a couple of times, then they took the towels off and scraped and cleaned all the goop off us. Then there were more hot damp towels. My skin felt so clean and fresh, it was amazing.

Later we were sitting in a different room having our hair done. While that was happening, a different woman was doing stuff to my fingernails and toenails. I'd never had a proper pedicure before and that was pretty cool too. I asked to keep my hair pretty simple because I was just going to the basketball game after all, but they made it wavy and took the front part straight over the top and down the back of my head. It was all held in place with a single decorated hair comb at the top of my head. I decided it made me look a bit older and looked really nice.

Finally the woman who'd given me my pedicure offered to do some makeup for me. Mom said I wasn't to have too much because I was too young, which was a bit annoying but the woman went "tsk tsk" at me and said I should listen to my mother. She said with my skin and good looks, I hardly needed anything but she was going to show me how to put on just a little bit to make me look extra special. The good thing was that she explained what she was doing and which colors I should use to suit my hair color and skin tone. It was really only a subtle bit of lipstick and some detailing around the eyes. I figured I could do that myself once she'd shown me. The makeup that got left over was given to me in a little pack afterwards so I could do it again. That was pretty cool too.

Then it was all over and Mom and I were back in the locker room to get dressed. Mom had brought my date clothes with her so I could put them on straight away and not have to get back into my grimy school clothes that I'd been wearing all day. It was nice to put on my fancy bra and panties, then the white blouse and my new denim skirt and jacket. I even stopped and admired myself in the mirror. I don't do that very often, but I have to admit that I liked what I was seeing. It didn't take that long before we were both fully dressed and walking out the door. I was feeling totally fine; very relaxed and very beautiful and very special. Mom was looking pretty fine too! I talked to Mom all the way home about the stuff we'd just been through. Now I think about it, she'd been with me the entire time so it wasn't like I was telling her anything new. It was just that I was so happy about having been to the health spa and I wanted to share my happiness with Mom and thank her for taking me. I never did see the spa pool. I mean there must have been one there or they wouldn't call it a spa — would they?

-------

We got home at about twenty minutes past five and walked in together. Dad was sitting on the couch and I could see his eyes go a bit wide when he saw us. Then he stood up and did a little polite bow.

"Oh excuse me. May I welcome you two lovely ladies into my house? You both look so beautiful. Are you sisters by any chance? I was expecting my wife and daughter and instead these two visions of loveliness have walked into my home and into my life. Have you seen my daughter? I was expecting her home any minute now."

He tried to peer over my shoulder and out the door.

I put my hand into a fist and gave him a little punch on his arm. "Daddy, don't tease me."

He grabbed the hand I'd punched him with and kissed it, "I'm sorry, princess, but you just look so beautiful. You are growing up so fast that I really do hardly recognize my little girl any more."

Then he turned to Mom and held out his arms to her. "And as for you, my darling wife, you are just as beautiful as the day I married you, if not more so."

They started to cuddle and kiss each other then — right in front of me. I was about to cough or something when Nana walked in from the kitchen.

I squealed a bit and ran to her for a hug. It was something like three weeks since I'd seen her last and I was really excited to see her again.

I should say right now that Nana has a really, really strong Lancashire accent. I started to try to write out what she says like she sounds but it was too hard. Mostly because a lot of the accent is in how the vowel parts sound rather than in the words being different, but also because the way she speaks is the way I've spoken all my life only more so — much more so. My accent — our accent — is so much a part of me that I can't write it differently than the way I normally write. Also when I tried to write it like that it looked like I was making fun of Nana and I totally don't want to do that — partly because I love her and partly because she would crucify me. Nana can be tough when she needs to be, really tough. Tougher than Mom, tough! Do you get the picture??

Let me just remind you that it was Nana who fought her husband in the courts and got my mom out of the asylum. She separated from him and raised Mom — and Uncle Stan as well, I assume — on her own, and that must have been tough because Mom had a mental condition and the asylum had made her worse instead of helping her. Then when we all moved to America, Nana had left everything she knew behind, left all her friends and her memories and travelled half way around the world with us to settle in a new country where people couldn't understand a word she said, despite the fact that they were supposedly speaking the same language as her. Then she fought with breast cancer and won!!!

After we'd hugged and kissed and said our hellos, Nana held out my arms and stepped back so she could admire me. I guess I kind of blushed a tiny bit at that but then I just bit my lip and smiled at her and let her look. She didn't say anything but I could see in her eyes how much she loved me and how much she thought I was looking beautiful tonight. We hugged again, and then she took my elbow and turned me towards my bedroom.

"Come on, Bec dear, show me your room. I hear it's become something worth seeing."

I was pretty sure that Nana would have already seen it. She'd been in the house all afternoon after all and I couldn't imagine her not checking it out. But what Nana wants, Nana gets, so I walked with her to my room and opened the door and stood aside so she could enter. Nana stopped at every picture and admired it and made comments about how wonderful I looked. It was like escorting her around an art gallery. I guess I was escorting her around an art gallery. She spent just as much time looking at my unfinished paintings on the closet doors and seemed impressed with what I had done. I told her I hoped they would be finished by the time she came back on Sunday and she could see them properly.

I guess I was expecting to be embarrassed when Nana looked at the big one of me touching myself, but I wasn't. I guess I was kind of used to it by now. I guess also Nana's just such an earthy person that I doubt there's much in the world that would shock her. Not sex sort of stuff anyway. She just looked at it with a little smile on her face and said something about how much I seemed to be enjoying myself. Then she looked sideways at me to see if she'd managed to embarrass me, which she had a little, but I didn't want her to know that, so I just looked straight at her and said "yes" as firmly as I could manage.

There was a new painting on my wall. It was above the head of my bed and looked a bit unfinished. I guessed Mom must have been working on it this morning because she'd been with Nana for lunch and with me for most of the afternoon. The picture looked like a hole in the wall with the brickwork exposed. The hole looking out onto a lovely, lush, English autumn garden, the trees were coated with brightly colored autumn leaves and the ground already had its own thick coat of fallen leaves. Sitting on the exposed brickwork of the hole in the wall, with our backs to the room, were Liz and me. We were both naked, and as Mom had pointed out, the different shades of our skin made a lovely contrast. Liz had her head on my shoulder and one arm behind me, stroking my back. One of my arms was visible wrapped around Liz's waist and my head tilted and leant against hers as we held each other and looked out at this idyllic garden.

Mom had stuck to her theme, she had me being sexy, being strong, being sporty, being fun, and now there I was being a friend. I guess I'd known she was going to do another painting after our conversation last night, but the hole in the wall and the English garden surprised me. It was a nice surprise too. I liked it and Nana did too.

Nana led me back to the mirror and stood me in front of it.

"And all of these beautiful pictures are just a pale shadow of the real thing."

"Don't say that Nana. Most of these pictures are Mom's idea of what I could look like and be like. They aren't really me."

"Don't talk nonsense girl. Look there in the mirror. Don't slouch, stand up straight and look properly. Now that is a beautiful young woman. Everything your mother has painted in here is a part of you right now. Don't try and deny it."

"But Nana, I'm not even really a proper woman. I'm just a little girl who's been prettied up and dressed in nice clothes. That doesn't change who I am inside."

"Not a proper woman? What are you talking about?"

"Well I don't have proper ... you know," I gestured at my breasts ... or at least I gestured at where they should be. "And they say you aren't a proper woman until you have your periods and do sex and stuff like that."

"Who says that?" Her voice was sharp, strong, forceful and completely unavoidable!

"Everyone!"

"Well then, everyone is wrong! Look at me Rebecca, look at me right now."

I looked! I don't think I've ever not done anything Nana tells me to do. She was standing glaring at me with this little angry squint. Then suddenly she looked down and fumbled with the buttons down the front of her dress.

"Help me with these."

"What?"

"My buttons, girl, undo them for me. My hands are too slow."

Um! Shock! Surprise! Confusion! But at the same time, total obedience! So of course I undid the buttons on my grandmother's dress and helped her take it off, trying very hard not to look at her chest. She wasn't wearing a bra of course so she was standing there in just her old lady's style panties and thigh high tights. I turned and found a hanger to put her dress on and hung it on my doorknob.

"Stop fiddling, Rebecca, come back here and look at me."

Nana had stood herself right in front of the mirror, right next to the picture of me, naked, confident me, staring straight out into the world. It was a bit of a shock when I realized that she was the same height as my picture. I guess that meant she was the same height as me. When had Nana become short?

"Look right here, Rebecca, and then look there at the picture of you. Then you tell me which one of us has proper breasts."

I looked! I didn't want to but I looked. I mean, like I said, I always did what Nana told me to do, and she was telling to look at her chest so I looked. Of course there were no breasts, just two curving scars where they used to be.

"Are you daring to tell me I'm not a woman anymore because I don't have proper breasts?"

I gaped! Nana not a woman? What? I never said that. Nana could be scary when she wanted to be. Nana in her underpants was so scary she was kind of freaking me out.

"Well?"

"No Nana!"

"Then what makes you think that just because your breasts haven't finished growing, you aren't a proper woman?"

I could only shrug. I couldn't think of any answer which wouldn't sound like whining. But there was still all the other stuff.

"But..."

"But what? But you aren't having your periods? Do you know what menopause is?"

"Um..."

"Don't um at me girl. Do you know what menopause is, yes or no?"

"Is it when your periods stop because you're..." I didn't want to say "old" but my poor addled brain couldn't come up with a better word. Not with Mostly Naked Nana glaring at me.

"It means my periods have stopped. I've used up all my eggs. All but two of them got flushed down the drain. I can't have any more babies. Are you daring to tell me that I'm not a proper woman because I don't have periods?"

"No Nana!" my voice was starting to sound weak. Starting? No! My voice was sounding weaker!

"And as for sex, I haven't had any proper sex since before you were born! Are you daring to tell me that any female isn't a proper woman unless they are having sex?"

Woops! I definitely didn't mean that. I just meant that people said ... never mind. I give up.

"No Nana!"

"Well good! Because I'm quite sure my daughter would not have raised her children to believe that little bit of nonsense." Suddenly her voice changed totally. It lost that hard edge and got that warm and loving tone that I much preferred to hear from her.

"Are we clear?" She reached out and lifted my chin up so I would look at her instead of at the floor. "Are we quite clear that the only thing it takes to be a woman is to behave like a woman?"

"Yes Nana." I looked at her with awe. She had just made it so clear to me. I understood. I could be a woman whenever I wanted to be, all the rest of the stuff was just ... extras! Then my eyes trailed down to her poor scarred chest. Without thinking about it, my hand reached out and gently traced one of the scars. Nana's skin was mostly dry and a bit leathery but the scars were shiny and smooth.

"I'm so sorry Nana. Did it hurt?"

She didn't blink, she didn't look down she just looked straight at me and pressed my hand into her chest with both of her own. Her voice was so gentle and warm. How could she be the same person as the one who had scared me into submission moments before?

"No sweetie, it didn't hurt. They put me to sleep and when I woke up, they were gone. The cancer hurt a bit, the chemicals hurt a lot, but losing these didn't hurt. I miss them sometimes. I still sometimes brush my hand down my chest and get surprised that they are not there. Then I remember and I feel a bit sad. But then I remind myself that I'm a cancer survivor. I'm not a victim. I beat it and these were a small price to pay for the chance to stand here and watch you become the woman you are."

Okay I cried a bit at that, and then we hugged until I stopped crying. Then I had to fix my makeup. Somewhere along the line I stopped noticing that Nana was mostly naked. Some things are just more important than that.

Tara pushed the door open with a crash and then she blinked and her eyes went wide at the sight of Nana standing there in her panties.

"Er ... Bec? Your date is here!"

She shook her head and then stepped back and pulled the door closed after her.

We looked at each other and giggled like a couple of schoolgirls. I quickly helped Nana back into her dress and did up her buttons for her. Nana then checked my makeup for me and adjusted my jacket, making sure I dropped the little makeup packet into my jacket pocket so I could do any repairs later.

"You look perfect, Bec dear. I love you so much."

"Thank you Nana," I whispered. "I love you too!"

"Now you get out there and enjoy your evening."

"Yes Nana!"

She turned me and pushed me towards my door with a firm hand in my back.

I was going to go out there and enjoy my evening.

After all, Nana had told me to do just that.

And I always did what Nana told me to do.



-------

Chapter 16 : Date 1 - The Restaurant



My family were all sitting around in the living room when I walked in. I think they were there to make sure my date got off to a smooth start or something. For Tara the "or something" probably included looking for another chance to tease me. My date was standing in the middle of the room looking all spic and span. As soon as I walked into the room he smiled at me with the biggest, warmest smile you could imagine. And then he held out the cutest bunch of flowers.

I took the flowers from him and smelled them and gushed out my thankyous. I showed them to Mom and Nana who oohed and aaahed as if they hadn't just seen me presented with them. Mom offered to put them in water and put them in my room. I accepted, so she took them from me and held them while I went back to give my date an extra hug.

My date is a big guy, much bigger than I am, so I had to stand up on my toes to give him a quick kiss. Are you supposed to kiss a guy when he collects you at the start of your first date? I wasn't sure about the rules. It was only a quick kiss anyway so surely that doesn't matter.

My date told me I looked absolutely stunning and that he was proud to be going out with such a gorgeous looking young woman. I told him he was looking pretty special himself and that wasn't an exaggeration. He's a great big hunk of a guy. He was wearing proper leather shoes that matched nicely with his trousers and loose jacket. Under the jacket was a button up shirt that managed to cover but not completely disguise his muscular chest and stomach. I'm only thirteen and he is quite a bit older and, oh yeah, in case you haven't been keeping track, he's my brother.

Dan was taking me to dinner and then the basketball game for my birthday. It had been Tara's idea to call it a date and my whole crazy family had gone along with it. That wasn't so bad, I could live with that. What I found really weird was that, while I knew this was my brother, and so this was only a kind of pretend date, a part of my brain loved the idea that my first ever date was with this gorgeous guy. I had loved him forever and now we were going on a date together. Sigh! To be honest I didn't know any other boys I would want to go out with. So here I was, all prettied up and feeling just a bit tingly inside as we got ready to leave.

Tara jumped up and stopped us. "Wait, wait, wait! You can't go yet. Dad, you have to give him the speech!"

"What speech?"

"Dad, every time I've gone on a date, you've done this whole speech about being careful. It's humiliating! I refuse to let you do that to me and not have you do it to Bec too."

"Oh! Er! Yes, well!" Dad stood himself up, straightened his clothes and turned to Dan with a serious look pasted onto his face. Dan just stood there watching him with a little grin.

"Young man, I expect you to treat my daughter properly. No drinking, drive safely, and have her home by ten thirty. It's a school night and she has a curfew." At that point I could see a glint start in Dad's eyes. He was having fun. "You should treat her the way you would want your own sister treated. Just remember, if you don't behave with respect towards her, I have a shotgun and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Yes sir! I'll look after her exactly the way I would want someone to look after my own sister," Dan replied with a grin.

Just for the record, as far as I know, the closest my dad has ever been to a gun is when I was little and we went to one of those resorts where you can dress up and have your photo taken. Dad got all done up like an English aristocrat out hunting, with the pipe and the silly hat and a shotgun slung over one arm. I guess, because it was a resort, the gun was probably a fake. That photo hangs on the wall in the hallway outside my parents' room along with a whole lot of other old photos.

Mom gave me a kiss and a hug and told us both to have a good time. Dan held out his elbow and I hooked my hand over it like a proper lady and we walked out the door together. The yellow sports car Dan had borrowed was pulled up right in front of the house. Dan held the door open for me and I got in. I had to wriggle a bit to settle myself back into that comfortable seat.

"I'm sorry Bec love, but I'm going to close the roof. It looks like it's going to rain any second now."

"That's okay! It's probably a good thing anyway, 'cause then my hair won't get all mussed up by the wind."

Dan pressed a button on the dash and a little motor whirred. The roof slowly unfolded itself from the back and slid over the top of me. It was kind of cool to see it do that. I reached up and touched the material of the roof, it was a kind of vinyl sort of material. It felt weird to push against the roof of a car and feel it move. Dan showed me a little lever I had to click to lock the front of the roof to the windscreen. Then he pressed another button and the side windows wound up with a little hum. Awesome! In a couple of minutes we'd gone from sitting in a car with no roof to sitting inside a fairly normal sort of car. Except it was still a sports car and it went VROOM VROOM when Dan started up the engine. Totally awesome!

-------

Once we were driving, Dan glanced over at me. "By the way, Dad doesn't know it, but I also make sure I have a little talk with any boy Tara dates. I'm going to do the same for you when it's time. Before you go on any date make sure I know who the guy is and where he lives. I'll make sure he understands that if he hits you, or forces you to do anything you don't want to do, or bad-mouths you at school, then I'll be paying him a visit."

I didn't know how to reply to that. I mean I always knew Dan was protective of us. I didn't realize he would threaten the boys we went on dates with. I'd heard about girls who'd gone on dates and had a bad time because the boy got rough and made her do stuff. I'd heard about girls who went on dates and then the boys spread stories about her afterwards. I didn't want anything like that to happen to me. I guess what Dan was saying was sensible but ... I did a little shrug inside my head. I figured since no boy was likely to ask me out anytime soon, I shouldn't worry about it.

Rain started falling and Dan slowed down a bit. The sound of the rain pattering on the soft roof was a bit strange. The wipers did their little dance with a regular scrape and squeak. The rain provided the background percussion. And the car vibrated underneath me like a cat purring to itself — a really big cat. The whole thing was kind of musical in a way. We drove along and I listened to the music in my head and then I started humming along to it.

Dan glanced sideways at me, "I think I recognize that tune. What is it?"

"Um..." I had to think about it for a second. I hadn't realized I'd been humming an actual tune. "It's Avril Lavigne, her latest single."

"Oh yes, it's been getting a lot of air play lately. Do you like Avril Lavigne?"

"Sure I do."

This led to a long discussion about what types of music we both liked to listen to. It turns out that Dan liked an enormous range of stuff, not so much jazz or classical but pretty much anything since rock was invented. When I asked what was his absolute favorite band or musician, he said it was probably U2, which I thought was weird because they're like a band that's been around for ever. I was expecting something a bit more modern. I decided that when I had time I should borrow some of his U2 CDs and listen to them so I could see if I understood why he liked them so much.

-------

The restaurant Dan took me to was really nice. It was fancy enough that you had to book a table so you did not have to wait in a queue, but not so fancy you felt like someone would stare at you if you used the wrong fork. Like I said, it was nice. Dan told the waiter that we had tickets to the game and asked if we could order quickly. We were within walking distance of the arena so I guess they were used to that. I ordered grilled salmon and Dan ordered a steak with mushroom sauce. Of course the menu gave them fancy names, but that was basically what they were. When he asked about drinks, we both ordered sodas. The waiter disappeared to place our order and we were left alone to talk.

"Dan, what do you think about going to the community college? Are you disappointed that you didn't end up playing football for one of those big name colleges?"

"I was offered a couple of football scholarships, but I turned them down. Neither of them was for a full ride so we would have had to come up with the rest of the money ourselves. Or I could have taken out a student loan and been in debt for half my life. I'm pretty good at football but I was never going to be the star recruit or anything.

"That's okay. I play football for fun. I never wanted to make a career out of it. I'm real happy going to my college. The course that I'm doing has a good reputation and I have my job three times a week so I have a little bit of money and I can live at home with all of you and I still get to play football."

"Yeah but face it, your team sucks. You're going to end up somewhere like eighth in your competition."

"Tomorrow night's game will decide that. It's the last game of the season since we didn't make the finals and it will pretty much decide which of us ends up in seventh or eighth place. And we don't suck! We won a few games this season. We go out there and play as well as we can and have fun while we're doing it. We love to win, but we don't get too upset if we lose. That's a good thing about playing for this team instead of playing with one of the major colleges."

A waitress arrived with our sodas and we thanked her and sipped our drinks before continuing the discussion.

"I guess that's a bit like me and basketball. I love playing but I don't want to commit my life to it. You pretty well have to totally commit yourself to that one thing if you want to make it to the pros and I don't want to do that."

"That's fair enough! I'm glad you're still having fun playing basketball. If you keep playing like you did on Monday night you should have no trouble making the team when you get to high school. After that it's up to you."

"I think Monday night's game was a bit of a fluke. Thinking back, I was probably having an episode." I did the fingers in the air, double quotes thing around that word.

Dan grinned a bit. "I'm pretty sure you're right about that."

"I don't think I can rely on having that happen every time I play."

"Speaking of which, how are you coping with all that stuff?"

I was about to paste Little Miss Normal on my face and give him a stock answer, but then I found I couldn't do it. I mean I didn't want to do it. I love Dan with all my heart and I didn't want to lie to him about something important like this. I searched back through my brain and checked what condition it was in. I looked straight at Dan and nodded a bit.

"Actually right now, I'm doing okay. I'm having little panic attacks every so often about what might happen in the future, but right now, sitting here with you, I'm doing okay."

That was pretty honest.

Dan smiled warmly at me. "That's good to hear. You know that we all love you and want to help you through this, don't you? More importantly, I love you and I want to help you through this. If you feel a bit panicky, or want to have a cry, that's okay. I'm guessing those sorts of feelings are pretty normal."

"Thank you Dan."

"You pushed me away last night, but that was okay because Liz stayed with you. But anytime you want me to just hold you, I will. I hope you know that I'm happy to do that."

Do you get why I adore this guy? I picked up Dan's hand from where it was sitting on the table and looked straight into his eyes. I could have just said thank you again, but instead I looked into his eyes and tried to send him psychic messages about how much I loved him. A bit of my brain was trying to remember having pushed him away last night. Nope! Drawing a blank there! Damn! How can I fix this when I don't know what I did? Damn! Damn!

"I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm fine now, truly I am."

The waiter chose that moment to arrive with our meals. "Your steak sir, ... and the salmon for your lady friend." A little thrill ran right up my spine when he said that. Dan's lady friend ... I could live with that! More than live with that, this was like my wildest dream come true. I was sitting in a restaurant having a conversation and a meal with the most wonderful guy in the world, and as far as everyone else here knew I was his girlfriend. I let the feelings rush through me, leaving little tingles in their wake, and then I looked down at my meal.

The food looked fantastic. It was on square plates. Can you believe that? Who ever invented square plates? I mean what's the point? But I must admit it made the meal look extra special. My grilled salmon had a light creamy sauce poured over it and came with big thick fries and salad. Some people might say it was pretty simple but I loved it. We stopped talking and started eating. The whole thing was scrumptious. I hadn't eaten since breakfast so I was quite hungry ... no that's not true, I had that energy bar Nurse Wanda gave me. Anyway, I was hungry and the food was delicious and we just sat there and ate.

After a bit, I asked Dan how his steak was, so he put a bit of steak on his fork, dipped it in the mushroom sauce and held it out for me to taste ... divine! So of course I had to feed him a similar taste of fish on the end of my fork. Okay this is the stuff I imagined happening on dates, especially dates with Dan. Oh God! I've died and gone to heaven! I want this moment to last forever! Oh God! Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou!

I couldn't eat all the fries, but Dan was happy to help with that. The waiter came to collect our plates. We still had plenty of time so Dan ordered dessert for himself. I said I was too full, but Dan looked at me and then asked for an extra large serving and a second spoon. The waiter glanced at me and then nodded to Dan. Huh! What's he trying to say?

Once the waiter had left, Dan turned back to me. "So now for the big questions, tell me about you. Is there some boy at school you have a big crush on? Who is he? What's he like?"

I stared at Dan. Do you mean apart from the big crush I have on you? I wondered.

He gave a wry little grin, "Yeah, I meant apart from the big crush you have on me."

What? Oh no! Did I just say that out loud? Oops! I felt my cheeks start to go red and fought the temptation to look down into my lap and hide my face. How embarrassing! Blurting out one of the Big Secrets like that! Oh I want to die. Please earth, just open up and swallow me whole!

I heard Dan chuckling and realized I was looking down, despite all my efforts not to.

"What? Did you think I wouldn't notice? It's okay, Bec. I don't mind. In fact I think it's a nice compliment that you feel that way about me." Dan's voice was gentle and sweet. It started to sink in that he didn't think I'd just made a huge idiot out of myself.

"Bec, look at me." He gripped my right hand, where it was sitting on the table. His enormous hand completely swallowed mine. I forced myself to look up, my face still red.

"Bec, I don't mind. You're a smart, pretty, talented, gorgeous girl and if you weren't my sister, I'd be asking you to be my girlfriend in a heartbeat."

Huh? I snorted at Dan in disbelief. What a pile of horse manure! I forgot to be embarrassed and started to get angry.

"No you wouldn't!"

Dan looked puzzled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dan, you wouldn't look twice at me, if I wasn't your sister."

"What makes you say that?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Dan, I don't qualify! I haven't got big boobs!"

"So what?"

I looked at Dan like he was stupid, "Dan, ever since the start of high school, every girl you've ever dated had big boobs. When we're out in public, if two pretty women walk past, you look at the one with bigger boobs. The pictures of naked ladies you look at on your computer — they all have big boobs."

"What? How do you know about those?"

Oops! I wasn't supposed to know about those. I clamped my mouth shut and looked at Dan guiltily.

"Bec, have you been snooping on my computer?"

"It's your own fault! Haven't you ever heard of passwords? I've been using a password ever since I caught Mom checking up on my MSN logs."

"You aren't supposed to be looking at those pictures." He groaned, "Mom's going to kill me!"

I sniffed, "She doesn't have to know. I don't intend to tell her. And I notice you haven't tried to deny you have a thing for girls with big boobs." I wondered why I was feeling so angry.

"But I don't!"

"Yeah? You name me one girlfriend you've brought home that didn't have big boobs!"

He looked at me, but said nothing.

I gave him at least two seconds! "You can't, can you? What I want to know is, does your dick only get hard if the girl you're looking at has knockers the size of melons?"

I think I shocked Dan by saying that. I think he thought I didn't know those words or something. Wait on! I think I shocked myself too! I don't think I'd ever said anything like that to anybody. I'd heard people say stuff like that. I might have even thought stuff like that in my head. But I never said it out loud. But it was too late to take it all back. I couldn't stop anyway. My mouth was completely disconnected from my brain. I had totally lost control of what it was saying.

"No don't answer that! What I really want to know is, are all guys like you? Because if they are, what happens to me? Look at our family, I'm never going to have anything more than an A cup, and I'll only get that big if I'm really lucky." I felt a tear run down my cheek. Damn it, why am I crying?

"What's going to happen to me? Will anyone like me? I don't know any boys. Who is ever going to ask me out? No boys will even look at me because I don't have big..." Crap! Now I'm blubbering like a baby. Finally I managed to stop the rubbish pouring out of my mouth. Way to kill the mood! And I'd been having such a good time too! Shit! What sort of idiot am I? Shit! Shit! Shit!

I felt big strong arms scoop me up out of my chair. I was lifted and held against a muscled chest. I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and tried to hide myself inside, pressing myself into Dan's broad chest. Then I was being sat in his lap with his arms wrapped securely around me. I immediately felt safer. A napkin got pressed into my hands and I dabbed it on my face. What an idiot. So much for being all mature and grown up and going out on a proper date. Shit! I'm so stupid. Shit! Shit!

The napkin was all wet and clumped into a sodden ball so I held it out and it was taken out of my hand. It was replaced with a fresh napkin which I used to dab at my eyes. I started apologizing but Dan just shushed me and stroked my back with his big, strong, gentle hands. I sighed and leaned against his chest, but recoiled when I realized I was putting my face into a damp spot on his shirt. Did I do that? Of course I did! I giggled a bit and tried to dab the shirt dry with the napkin. Where did that giggle come from? Stupid little girl giggle! Shit!

By now I was sitting upright on Dan's lap, with his arms still loosely wrapped around me. I felt a bit better emotionally. I was still embarrassed that I'd made a scene, but it's hard to stay upset when Dan blows in your ear and tickles your ribs. I giggled again when he did that, damn it!

After a bit, he put his mouth next to my ear and blew in it, which made me giggle again, damn it! Then he whispered, "The problem with wearing makeup is that if you cry, it makes a mess."

"Oh!" I put my hand into my little jacket pocket where I had the tiny makeup pouch from the beauty parlor. "I can fix that. Don't go anywhere."

"I'll be right here!"

I scurried to the bathroom and looked at my face in the mirror. My cheeks were a bit blotchy and some of the eyeliner had dribbled down below the eye. I got a paper towel and dabbed at my cheeks to clean them. Then I tried to fix my eyes. It looked so easy when other people did it. How come I was just jabbing myself in the eye?

At that moment a small woman bustled into the bathroom. She was shorter than me and really old. She must have been at least forty years old, maybe older. She moved straight to the mirror beside me and started fixing her lipstick.

"Hello honey, I saw you crying just before you came in here. Are you feeling better? Was that boyfriend of yours giving you a hard time? Men! You can't live with 'em and you can't live without 'em! That's what I always say."

"Um ... no! He was ... being nice. I just ... I don't know ... I just suddenly felt all..." I was amazed she let me get that much of a word in, she was talking so fast.

"Oh! Mood swings huh? I used to have terrible mood swings when I was a teenager. Here give me that. Now look over here. Let me see. Who did your makeup? They did a good job. I think I can fix it. Just hold still. I can remember simply bursting into tears for no reason. Five minutes later I'd be as right as rain. Now look this way, hon, that's it. Don't let it get to you. That boy of yours — what a cutie he is. If I was thirty years younger, I'd be tempted to steal him away from you. He looks like a keeper. You hang onto him good and tight. The good ones are worth fighting for. Do you hear me, honey? There we are. Now look at you. As pretty as a picture, you are. What beautiful clear skin you have. You look after that skin now, won't you? I remember when I was your age, I spent all my time wishing I was older and I slathered on so much makeup, you wouldn't believe it. But you've done the right thing. Just little touches around your eyes and a nice subtle lipstick too. You don't need any more with skin like yours. Now, touch up your lips and you're done!"

"Oh ... er ... thank you!" Do you ever feel as if you've been run over by a tank?

"That's the way, honey. Now you better get back to that young man of yours. If you leave him too long, some other young thing will swoop in and steal him away from you. Don't stand here and listen to me prattle on. Go back and give him a hug. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky tonight, eh?"

And with that she bustled the two of us out of the room and I headed back to Dan. I shook my head slightly. My cheeks were definitely red again. Get lucky? If that meant what I thought it meant then somehow I didn't think so.

Dan was still sitting in the chair that I'd been in. When I got closer I could see that the dessert had arrived but Dan hadn't touched it. Obviously he had waited until I got back. He held out his hand for mine, and when I took his hand he tugged gently until I got the hint and sat myself down sideways on his lap. I straightened my skirt and then my jacket and flipped my hair back over my shoulder.

"Your face looks all pretty again but it has the strangest expression on it. Are you feeling better?"

"Um ... yeah ... just that ... some people are so nice, you know?"

"Ah!" I knew he had no idea what I was talking about and just said that to keep me talking. It worked too!

"There was a woman in the bathroom. She helped me. Apparently I'm having mood swings. And she said I have nice skin."

"Yes!"

"Yes, what? Yes, I have nice skin? Or yes, I'm having mood swings?"

"Yes! Yes to all of that. Yes, some people are nice and yes, you have nice skin and yes, I think it's fair to say you're having a few mood swings."

"I don't wanna have mood swings. It sucks! They suck! I was having the best time with you, and I wrecked it all!"

"You didn't wreck it. We just had an intermission. Now it's time to get back to having the best time. Here, take a spoon."

We turned our attention to the dessert. It was on another square plate. What's the deal with square plates? It was an extra large slice (actually two slices pushed together) of chocolate fudge cake with a couple of scoops of ice cream and two different colors of syrup over the top. The syrup was also used to draw around the rest of the plate in swirling lines that crossed and jagged back and forth. It looked very fancy.

I stayed perched on Dan's lap and dipped my spoon into the chocolate cake. It almost melted in my mouth ... mmm! The two of us nibbled away at the dessert. It was just as well Dan ordered an extra large serving because I'm sure I ate nearly as much as he did. At one stage I had to use another napkin to clean up a bit of syrup that had dribbled down his chin. I might have been tempted to lick it off him, but I didn't think that would be a good thing to do in a fancy restaurant. I wasn't even sure that I should be sitting on Dan's lap but I was having fun and decided not to care about that.

I figured I'd been wrong before when I thought I was having the best time. This was even better. This was perfect. Sitting on Dan's lap with one of his arms wrapped around me and with the two of us sharing chocolate cake and ice cream. Perfect!

Sadly, even perfect things come to an end. The chocolate fudge cake and ice cream came to an end far too quickly. I took Dan's spoon and put our spoons down together in one corner of the square plate. Then I leaned back against Dan's chest. I reached up a bit and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you," I whispered. "I feel better now."

He wrapped his arms around me and rocked me gently. "I'm glad. This was nice. I enjoyed having a meal with you — just you and me."

I sighed softly, "Me too!"

Then he tightened his arms a bit around me, squeezing me gently. "Now, are you ready to go and watch some basketball?"

"Okay! I've been so looking forward to that too."

I hopped up off Dan's lap and waited with him while he sorted out the bill with the waiter. He left a good tip too.

Outside the rain had stopped, which was a good thing because we had a short walk to the arena. That probably wasn't a bad thing because while I hadn't over-eaten, my stomach felt nicely occupied, if you know what I mean.

As we walked down the street, I started to see crowds of people heading in the same direction. Some were wearing the colors of the two teams, others were nicely dressed like we were, and still others were just wearing jeans and sweatshirts or whatever. I pointed out to Dan how it was funny how different people dressed in different ways for the same thing.

Dan nodded and looked around. Then he waved at some people he knew on the other side of the road. "I forgot to mention, Bec, I got our tickets as part of a block that was bought through college. We'll be in amongst a whole lot of people from school. I won't know everyone, but I'll know quite a few of them."

"That's okay!" I squeezed Dan's arm where I was holding him, just above his elbow. Then an idea occurred to me. "Dan, could you just introduce me as Bec? Don't say I'm your sister, or anything. Just say I'm with you for the evening."

Dan looked at me sideways.

I looked down. "I don't want you to lie about me if they ask you. I just don't want them to ... I don't know. I guess I'm not explaining this very well."

He stopped us walking and pulled me into a little corner, out of the way of the crowds.

"I think I understand. You want them to think that you really are my date for the evening!"

I felt myself blush a little. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"Bec, some dreams are supposed to just stay in our heads. They're fantasies that we can think about when we have a quiet moment to ourselves. Sometimes acting out our fantasies can be a fun thing to do, other times it can end up hurting people."

I was still looking down. "I liked how, in the restaurant, the waiter kept calling me your lady friend. And that woman in the bathroom said you were my man. It made me feel kind of special."

"And you want to keep that special feeling going?"

Now I looked at him. I looked right up into his eyes. I tried to be as earnest as I could.

"Dan, I'm not stupid. I know that I can never really be your girlfriend. I know that what I'm feeling is only a crush." I made air-quotes with my fingers around that phrase.

Dan just kept watching me and letting me talk.

"People say a crush isn't like really being in love. But it feels so real. It feels so real that it hurts me. It hurts me right here." With that I grabbed at my heart with both hands. Unfortunately I forgot that I had a boob there now and it was sensitive to getting knocked — though the bra protected it a little bit. I flinched from the sharp hurt in my chest and that threw me off what I was saying for a moment.

Dan took my pause as his opportunity to say, "I never thought you were stupid. Maybe a crush isn't the same as being in love. That doesn't stop your feelings from being real."

I looked back in his eyes. "Dan, you said it yourself just before. This evening is like a fantasy for me. It's like a fairytale with you being the prince and me being the princess. Just for tonight I can pretend to be your girlfriend. And then we'll go home and it will all be over. But just for tonight, I can pretend."

"Hey! This is your birthday present, remember? I'm here to make your wish come true. It seems I get to pull double duty as a Prince and as a Fairy Godmother."

I giggled at a mental picture of Dan in a tutu with a little silver wand.

"I'm not going to lie about you, but I don't have a problem with keeping my mouth shut and letting people jump to their own conclusions." He reached out and pulled me into a hug.

"At least a couple of the people there will know you anyway. Steve will be there; you know Steve. And you've been to enough football games to see me. Some people will recognize you from there."

"But usually I just sit in the crowd. I hardly get to hang out with you or anything."

"You sit in the crowd, and then you jump up and down and scream my name every time I touch the ball."

"I do not!" I punched him lightly in the chest. "Okay, maybe I do sometimes. But only when the whole crowd is yelling, so I don't think that counts."

He grinned and grabbed my hand. "Come on then, let's get inside the arena. I have a feeling it might rain again soon."

"That feeling wouldn't have anything to do with those drops of water falling on our heads, would it?"

He sighed dramatically, and spoke out loud to the crowd of people scurrying for shelter around us. "She knows all my secrets!"

I giggled but the rest of the people just ignored him and kept scurrying. I held tightly onto Dan's hand and we joined the milling throng.

I heard that phrase somewhere or maybe I read it somewhere and I always wanted to use it ... we joined the milling throng! What an excellent thing to be able to say!

I held tightly onto Dan's hand, and we joined the milling throng!

Dan was taking me to the basketball game. To see the pros! I was going to see some of the best basketball players in the country. How awesome!

And for tonight, I was Dan's date! His special girl! His princess! Totally awesome!

It was like a dream and I was living in the middle of it. My body was tingling just from thinking about it.

I held tightly onto Dan's hand, and we joined the milling throng!



-------

Chapter 17 : Date 2 - The Game



Standing in line to get in to the arena, I heard a voice that was vaguely familiar in a whiney, nasally sort of way. I turned and was confronted by a pair of boobs pointed straight at me like cannons on a warship. Not recognizing those, I looked up a bit and saw a red-haired girl with a face that looked like she was permanently sucking lemons.

Now I remembered. This was Sarah something or other. Dan had dated her a few times when he was in high school. She'd visited home a couple of times and while she was fairly pleasant when Dan was around, the couple of times she was alone with Tara and me, she swore at us and called us brats and a few other words. Later on we figured out we should have just told Dan what was going on but at the time we didn't know what to do so we just stayed out of her way.

After that, Tara and I developed a rating system for Dan's girlfriends. We gave them a score out of ten, based on factors like politeness, range of interests, sense of humor, intelligence and so on. Surprisingly the size of their boobs didn't count at all. We decided Sarah had been a three. We never told Dan about our system of course. After her, there were three girls Dan brought home who rated four or less. For each of them, we marched up to Dan and told him that we didn't like her and could he please not bring her home again. At the time, we were amazed how well Dan took our comments. We were expecting to have to fight him about it. Maybe he knew they weren't satisfactory. We decided that a score of five or more we would tolerate. After all, Dan deserved to have his own life and not get too much interference from his little sisters, even if a girl who scored less than something like eight was clearly not good enough for him. Dan never did bring a girl home that scored nine or ten. We couldn't work out why. He was obviously such a great guy that the decent ones should have been tripping over each other, throwing themselves at him. There was one girlfriend who scored an eight. Dan stayed with her for almost all of his senior year of high school but she and her family moved overseas due to her father's job. Dan's last girlfriend, Missy, had been about a seven point five, but they split up three weeks ago. I didn't know why.

Sarah the Three sneered at me and then turned to Dan.

"What's ya problem, Dan Freeman? Girls your age got sick of ya? Are ya so hard up, ya gotta date high school girls?"

Huh! She obviously doesn't recognize me. And she thinks I'm in high school. Awesome!

Dan's voice was calm. "Strangely enough, Sarah, I've never had a problem getting dates. It's interesting that so far I've had more fun with Bec in one evening than I had on all three of the dates I went on with you. And the evening's only half over."

Sarah turned her sneer towards me. "What's that s'posed ta mean? I bet she didn't give ya blowjob in the movie theater!" She leaned in so close to me, I could smell her stinking, cigarette-fouled breath. Then she whispered, "And that was just the first date." She stood up and sneered some more — or maybe that was just her normal face.

My insides kind of turned cold. I could feel tiny spots of red growing on my cheeks but I was just as angry as I was embarrassed. Part of me wanted to shut down and hide like I usually did but Sarah the Three was so far beneath contempt that I couldn't stand letting her beat me down like that. I decided to try to be more like Liz. Liz would fight back! I glared straight at her.

"No I haven't. But he's still had more fun with me. Surely that must mean your blowjob can't have been very good."

A bunch of people standing around us started laughing at Sarah. That included the pair of girls who were obviously there with Sarah. She scowled and took a step towards me. Dan took a big breath in such a way that he suddenly seemed to occupy a lot more space.

"Sarah, there were a lot of reasons why I dumped you back in high school and lousy blowjobs was only one of them. Do yourself a favor and don't try to take on Bec. You won't win. You don't have the brains to win a slanging match against her and if you try to get physical, they'll be carting you off in an ambulance."

I wasn't sure if Dan was saying that I would beat her up, or that he would. I was pretty sure Sarah couldn't work it out either. I stood there and glared her straight in the eyes and tried to look confident. If Dan thought I could take her down, then that's what I was going to do. It's amazingly easy to feel brave when you have a mountain-sized man standing right beside you.

Fortunately it didn't come to that. Sarah's friends hustled her away and they went to join a different line. I watched her go and slowly the tension drained out of me. My stomach was all tied up in knots. I hated facing off with someone like that. Dan reached around behind me and gently rubbed up and down my spine until he felt me relax a bit.

I pulled Dan down a bit and stood on my toes so I could whisper in his ear. I even cupped my hand around my mouth so no one else could hear what I was saying.

"Later on, you'll have to tell me what a blowjob is."

Dan started laughing.

-------

Dan was still laughing when the gate finally opened and we got in. When someone's laughing like that, it's hard not to join in. Even if you didn't think what you said was all that funny. As a result I had this silly little grin on my face. I held tightly onto Dan's big hand and walked with him around the concourse, looking for the right stairs to go up to find our seats.

I pulled Dan out of the stream of people and reached up to whisper to him, once again cupping my hand around my mouth.

"Is it that thing where a girl puts the boy's penis in her mouth?"

Dan's eyes were sparkling as they darted around to make sure no one else had heard my question. "Yup, that's about right!"

The idea sounded a bit icky to me, but I wasn't going to say that. Last time I'd thought something was icky, Mom had said "Don't knock it 'til you try it." So maybe I'd just wait until I got around to trying it. That was probably years from now, though. I wasn't in any hurry to put a boy's penis in my mouth.

I leaned up and whispered again. "I thought so but I wasn't sure. I once heard some girls at school talking about blowjobs but half the stuff those girls say is complete rubbish so I never know what to believe."

He nodded at me, and then waved over my shoulder. I turned and saw Steve coming towards us with a girl beside him. Steve's okay I guess, but he had been a bit sleazy last Saturday night when he was drunk. The girl with him looked ... well she totally looked like a cheerleader, except without the uniform. She had long, strong legs wrapped in skin-tight blue jeans and gorgeous looks and bouncy blond hair and ... well, you know! As she came closer, I kind of recognized her. I didn't know her name but I had seen her among the cheerleaders at Dan's games.

Steve waved at us and his voice carried clearly over the noise of the crowd bustling through the concourse. "Yo Dan! Yo Bec!"

He led his friend over to us and immediately went into his traditional caveman greeting routine with Dan, leaving me to look at this unknown girl in an embarrassed silence. After a moment I realized it was up to me, so I stuck out my hand. I tried hard to soften my accent so I sounded completely American.

"Hi! I'm Bec." I was pretty pleased that, at least as far as I could tell, I didn't sound English.

She smiled and took my hand, "Hello, I'm Silvia. I haven't seen you around school. Are you still in high school?"

"I haven't made it to college yet!" Hah! That was the truth, and I dodged her question. Grin! She thought I was a high school girl too! I was loving this!

Now I had to make sure Steve didn't blow my secret. I glanced sideways at Steve and saw that he and Dan had finished beating their chests at each other and they were now quietly following our conversation.

"Do you go to school with Steve and Dan?" I asked.

"Uh huh, but I'm taking accounting so we don't have any classes together. I met Steve 'cause he's on the football team. I'm a cheerleader.

"Yeah, I've been to a few games. I thought I recognized you."

"So is this your first date with Dan?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Have a good time."

"I will, thanks!"

I had been aware of Steve and Dan exchanging looks, and then they'd both given little shrugs at each other, so I figured Steve had gotten the message. He butted into our conversation at that point.

"Hey Bec! We saw your little run-in with Sarah Taviori at the ticket gate. We were behind you in the line. That was priceless. When I first met you, you were such a quiet thing. Look at you now, all grown up and feisty. You're looking terrific, by the way."

"Thanks Steve. You're looking a lot better than the last time I saw you."

"Oh! Yeah! Sorry about that." He turned an apologetic look towards Silvia. "I was totally wasted. You know, that party last week?"

"Ah! You were at that party?" Silvia asked me.

"No, I just met up with him in the park. I had to help get Steve and Dan home that night. It wasn't pretty."

"That was nice of you, to look after them."

I shrugged.

"Come on," Dan interrupted. "Let's go find our seats."

-------

On the way to our seats, Dan bought me a scarf with our team's colors. A few other people from Dan's school spoke to us and they were all interested in me. When I was asked what I wanted to study when I got to college I told them I wasn't sure but I liked drawing so maybe I would do art. Dan backed me up and told them I was a pretty good artist. We climbed the stairs to our seats and there were more of Dan's friends to talk to. We weren't quite in the nosebleed section, but our seats were pretty high up. They were okay though! The view was still really good. I was having fun! Everyone was being nice to me. Nobody really asked me who I was or how I met Dan, they all just assumed we'd got together somehow and wanted to find out what I was like.

I sat and looked around. The two teams were out on the court in their warmup suits, loosening up and practicing their lay-ups. I spotted my favorite player. He was really tall, even for a basketball player. He visited my elementary school a couple of years before and I got to shake his hand and he gave me a signed photo. It's still in my room on the wall behind my desk. He's so tall he had to duck his head when he walked through the classroom door. I stood next to him, and to look up at his face I had to put my head back as far as it would go. For a while before then, I'd thought I wanted to marry him, but when I was standing next to him like that, I decided that it probably wouldn't work. I'd have to stand on a ladder just to talk to him without getting a sore neck. Let alone whatever else married people do — hey I was ten, I didn't know much back then.

So here I was, virtually thirteen. Obviously so much older and wiser, and I still thought he was pretty hot. Other girls at school giggle at pictures of actors. I much prefer basketball players. Sigh!

Dan nudged me and told me to look up at where the ceiling arched above us.

"What shapes do you see?"

"It's an arch, like for holding up bridges. I suppose a roof like that is a bit like a bridge, it has to go over a big empty space like a bridge goes over a river. And the girders have triangles in them. You said triangles are strong shapes. A big roof like that must be pretty heavy, so it needs strong girders to hold it up. How am I doing?"

"Clever girl! We have one little conversation about bridges in the car and suddenly you know everything I know." He threw his hands up in pretended despair. "I don't know why I bother working so hard when it's apparently all so easy."

I slapped his arm. "Doofus! Of course it's more complicated than that. Stop being all condi ... what's the word?"

"What word?"

"The word for what you were being! It's condi ... something."

"I don't know. You're the brains of this outfit, not me."

I rolled my eyes at Dan. Just because he's a jock, he sometimes pretends to be stupid. A bit of my brain wrote the word "condi... ?" on a yellow post-it note and stuck it up on the inside of my skull. I'd have to look it up in a dictionary when I got home.

"I'm also feisty. Don't forget that. Apparently I've become feisty!"

"Bec, you've always had that feisty side to you. You just never used to let it out in public. Even at home, you mostly keep it hidden."

"Except when I'm fighting with Tara."

"Except then! Tara can be feisty too."

"I think we got it from Mom, like it's our inheritance. And she got it from Nana. We're all feisty women." I love the way that word sounds. You can roll it around the inside of your mouth and it comes out sounding even feistier!

"Yup! Lucky for Dad and me that we both have thick skins."

We both kind of laughed quietly to each other.

I leaned in a bit closer. "You know that thing we talked about before? I have another question."

Dan groaned and looked around crowded arena. "Must you?"

"You promised! You said I should always feel free to ask you about stuff if I had questions."

"Yes but," he flipped his hands at the crowd, "do you have to ask here? Can't it wait?"

"No!"

Sometimes you want to know things when you want to know them. Sometimes you can't wait until it's more convenient. I leaned over and put my hand around my mouth so I could whisper in his ear. Dan made it easier by putting one arm around me and pulling me a bit closer.

"Is a blowjob really fun? She seemed to think giving you a blowjob was fun."

Dan looked at me and shook his head. "I have a headache."

"Huh?"

"It started round about when you learned to talk. No sign of it easing up anytime soon."

I pouted and slapped his arm.

Dan sighed heavily and then took a moment to think. Then he leaned down so he could whisper into my ear. "I've never heard of any guy who didn't enjoy getting a blowjob. Even a lousy blowjob is still pretty good. As for girls though, some girls seem to like doing them, but others don't." He gave a little shrug. "The important thing for you to know is that Sarah had it all wrong. She seemed to think that the only way to have fun on a date was to do stuff like that. We're having fun without it. You don't have to do things like that on a date."

I grinned cheekily at him, and then leant in to whisper, "Does that mean you don't want me to give you a blowjob later?"

Dan sighed and shook his head at me, rolling his eyes in despair.

"Yep, that headache's just gotten a whole lot worse."

I giggled a bit at his reaction. Dan leant back, but he left his arm wrapped around me. I tucked myself in against his side and looked around the arena. The teams had disappeared into their locker rooms and the seats were all nearly full. It was good to get my questions answered. I had more questions, but I needed to sort them out in my head before I asked them. I grinned to myself. I think every girl should have a part of their sex education occur in the middle of a crowd of thousands of people at a basketball game. It was kind of fun. It was kind of naughty. It was kind of embarrassing for Dan and that was fun too.

The people in the row behind us, on the other side of Dan, leant forward to talk to him. Dan introduced me and they included me in the conversation. It was interesting for a bit, but then they wanted to talk about lectures and tutorials at college so I lost interest. Three girls had moved into the empty seats next to me. The closest was a really pretty Asian girl, only a bit taller than me, with the usual jet black hair and gorgeous almond shaped eyes. I introduced myself to her and she said her name was Pearl Wong. She had really clear, strong English with a natural-sounding American accent. That reminded me to concentrate on making sure I sounded American too. Her friends were Faith and Danielle. I said "Hi" to them and we chatted about the coming game. Pearl asked me if I was with Dan and I told her I was. It should have been obvious because his arm was draped over my shoulder and I was leaning against him while I chatted to her. Then I wondered if she'd meant was I "with" Dan, but it was too late to change my answer.

"You look kind of young for college. Are you still in high school?" I loved it that so many people were thinking I was in high school.

"I haven't made it to college yet." True, but misleading!

"So what school do you go to?"

I gave the name of my school. The high school up the road has the same name as mine. You just have to put either High School or Middle School after the name. So by telling her the name without saying either, it wasn't a lie. Fortunately she'd heard of the school but didn't know much about it so we changed the subject. I found out she'd shared a couple of freshman classes with Dan. I asked about her studies (business) and her sport (gymnastics) and told her I played basketball.

About then, the music got louder and the announcer came on and started the build up for the teams to come out. It got too hard to talk so we turned to watch the action. The players came running out and I waved my scarf and yelled, along with thousands of other people. Everyone stood up, and that sucked because it meant I couldn't see anymore. Pearl was in the same boat so we grinned at each other and shrugged. I stood there and jumped up and down and watched on the big screen while the players lined up for the start of the game. It was all very exciting. And it was noisy with the music going and everyone shouting.

Everyone sat down again before the game started, so I could see again. That was better. I could barely sit still in my chair for the tip off, and the game was under way. My heroes were playing basketball and I was actually there in the flesh, watching them play. So awesome!

-------

The start of the game is usually a bit unsettled as the teams kind of feel each other out and try to set up their game plans. It's pretty common for players on both teams to make some mistakes in the first few minutes while they get into the swing of the game. It took me until halfway through the quarter to realize that neither team had settled down. Both teams were still making mistakes left, right and center. The crowd was kind of quiet because the play wasn't really that good. Neither side had anything much to cheer about.

Both teams were making stupid, unforced errors one after another. Too many shots were missing the hoop. Players were passing the ball into empty space, only to see it caught by someone sitting in the third row. I was shocked by how badly they were all playing. But more than that, I was disappointed by what I was seeing. No actually, I was pretty well crushed. I'd built up this game so much in my head that I guess I was expecting some sort of brilliant display of highly skillful basketball. Instead I got what could have been mistaken for one of the games I played in at middle school. Except I suppose they were doing it all quite a bit faster. That just meant they were making mistakes faster though. Even my biggest hero made a fool of himself by tripping over one of his own teammates on the way down the court. And later on he found an opening to make a lay-up, but the ball hit his foot on the last dribble and shot out sideways instead of coming back up into his hands. He should have had an easy two points but he completely messed it up. It was like watching a nightmare.

I'd seen enough NBA on TV to know that both these teams were better than this. I just sat in my chair and watched, feeling all empty inside. Something inside my head was changing about the way I watched sports, and I could feel it happening. It was like the time, back when I was six, when I worked out that Santa wasn't real. Christmas was never the same after that. I knew this was forever changing the way I would feel about watching professional sports. Sporting heroes were just people after all, and they could have a bad day just like everyone else. I think I already knew that, but this quarter of basketball made me really understand it for the first time.

Other people in the crowd started to work out that they weren't seeing very good basketball. A few people called out comments. The crowd started to give ironic cheers when someone scored a basket — for either team. About five minutes before the end of the first quarter, the coach pulled one of our stars and put the newest rookie onto the court. He immediately made a clever steal and ran down the court. He set up and landed a nice three pointer — nothing but net. Now the crowd had something to cheer about. That lifted our team and we'd pulled away to a six point lead when the buzzer went off.

The crowd all stood up and started moving around. Music was playing and I think there were some cheerleaders doing their thing on the court, but I couldn't see a thing because the people in front were too tall. The big screen was no use because it was showing ads. I was holding Dan's hand and I tugged on it to get his attention.

"That was all pretty pathetic."

"It really was. I hope it gets better quickly. If that had been us, the coaches would be having a few words to say right about now."

"I guess so."

I saw Pearl glance over at me so I gestured at her, "Dan do you know Pearl? She said she was in a couple of your freshman classes."

Dan leant past me and shook her hand. "Hi Pearl. I thought I recognized you."

Pearl introduced her two friends to Dan and then we all talked about the quarter for a bit. Then a blond, big-boobed bimbo came up behind Dan and wanted to talk to him about the football game tomorrow. I guess that's a pretty rude thing to say about someone, but seriously, that's pretty much the best description I can think of for the girl. I never did find out her name. Dan said "excuse me" to us and turned to talk to the blond.

I listened to her talk for about twenty seconds and decided I'd just wasted twenty seconds of my life. I didn't want to waste any more so I turned back to rejoin the conversation with Pearl and her friends. I was quickly deciding that Pearl was really nice. I kind of said how good her English was and she explained she was a third generation American. Oh God! How embarrassed was I? I went all red and she laughed and told me not to worry about it. She told me that Faith had said the same thing when they first met up and now they were best friends. She and Faith were sharing a flat and I kind of got the hint that Danielle was Faith's girlfriend, though they didn't come out and say it. We chatted some more about trivial stuff, then Faith teased Pearl about how she'd apparently said Dan was a bit studly. I didn't know "studly" was a word, but it was easy enough to figure out what it meant. That led the three girls into a list of other "studly" guys around their school and I started to wonder if I'd been wrong about Danielle and Faith. But then I noticed that they were standing pretty close to each other. It wasn't obvious but they each had their hands down by their sides and their pinkie fingers were linked together, so I decided I was probably right after all.

"So how did you manage to hook the big prize?" Pearl asked, gesturing at Dan.

"Just lucky, I guess." I looked at Dan, who was completely engrossed in his discussion with the bimbo. "But I don't know how well he's hooked, given the way he's ignoring me right now."

Pearl laughed at that. I gently nudged Dan with my elbow. Without looking, Dan reached back and looped one of his big arms around my waist, pulled me into his side and kept talking to the blond. I rolled my eyes at Pearl and her friends and all three of them laughed. I laughed too.

"Quite a few of the girls at school have the hots for Dan. He's pretty decent for a jock. In fact, he's maybe the nicest guy at school. The word is he knows how to treat a girl right and that's pretty rare around our place. There's a rumor he has a couple of really tough sisters who would give him hell if he ever treated a girl badly."

I had to swallow a laugh. Then I had to stop myself from getting embarrassed. The image of Tara and me somehow training Dan to be nice was hysterical. Dan had always been like that. If anything, most of the time it was Dan trying to get us to be nicer.

"Um ... he has three sisters, but the third one is only three years old so I guess she doesn't count. Apparently the other two can be a bit feisty, but I don't think they should get too much credit. Dan's just a decent sort of a guy."

"Fair call! It's just a shame that he mostly only dates one type of girl. He's polite enough to the rest of us, but he never seems to ask us out. Which brings me back to my original question, how did you manage to hook the big prize? You aren't his usual type."

I shrugged. Fortunately the music changed just then and the players came back out onto the court. The crowd settled into their seats, and that effectively stopped our conversation. That was a relief because I was starting to get uncomfortable dodging Pearl's questions. She was being so nice and what I was doing was getting way too close to actually lying to her. I leaned over to her and said quietly that I would tell her later. I decided that at half-time I would explain that I was one of those "tough" sisters she heard about and that this date was Dan's birthday present for me.

I sat back to watch the second quarter. The blond bimbo had disappeared back to her seat and Dan checked with me that I was okay. His arm had never shifted from around my waist but it was nice of him to actually notice me. I wondered if he was aware that Pearl and I just had a long talk about him while standing right beside him. I didn't think so because, for the entire time, he'd been hypnotized by a pair of boobs with a bimbo attached. I wondered if maybe it was about time that Tara and I lived up to our apparent reputation and gave Dan a long talk about the sorts of girls he was dating. I'd only known Pearl for about half an hour and already I'd worked out that she was better than ninety per cent of the girls Dan had ever brought home. No wonder we never rated any of his girls as nine or ten, Dan was ignoring three-quarters of the female population! The only ones he was paying attention to were the girls who had more blood rushing around in their boobs than they did in their brains. I decided right then and there that this had to stop. I wasn't sure how I was going to do it, but Dan had to be taught a lesson. He had to be saved from himself! And I was obviously the one who had to do the saving.

-------

The second quarter gave us a much better standard of basketball. Maybe the coaches had used some fairly strong words and the players had listened. Both teams seemed to be concentrating on the basics. There was very little fancy stuff. It was all just good hard fast basketball. The standout was still the rookie who managed to show more class than anyone else on the court. Mainly because of him, we ended the half with a solid thirteen point lead.

By half-time I was feeling uncomfortable. I needed to "go" but I was a bit nervous about going to the restrooms on my own in the middle of this huge crowd. Dan obviously couldn't escort me. I leaned over to Pearl and whispered to her that I needed to go to the restrooms and would she mind coming with me. She smiled and nodded, and then checked with her friends. They said they were fine, so it was just the two of us. I told Dan I was going to the restroom with Pearl and he gave me a little nod and thanked Pearl for offering to go with me. Dan said he was going to get some food and asked if I wanted anything. I shook my head. I was used to Dan needing to eat every two hours. I didn't bother trying to keep up with him.

Pearl and I headed down the stairs and found the restrooms. There was a huge line for the women's, of course. I decided that if Dan was going to be involved in designing places like this, I should get him to put in twice as many women's toilets. There were just never enough. I wondered if a structural engineer got to decide about things like that, or if it was the designer ... what was the word ... arki something ... architect, that's it!

Pearl leant close to me and whispered, "So is it true about Dan?"

"Is what true?"

"Is it true that he's really good in bed?"

I kind of blushed a bit, "I haven't ... we haven't ... done that! I don't know what he's like ... in bed" Oh boy, that's embarrassing!

"Oh? I'm sorry! I thought you must have. You two are so comfortable together. The way you hold each other and stuff. Mostly people don't get that comfortable until they've done the wild thing. The only other way it happens is when people are family ... ah!"

She looked at me suspiciously. "Have you been taking me for a ride?"

I guess I must have started to look a bit sheepish.

"Are you one of those sisters we were talking about?"

I nodded, "I'm sorry about that. I was going to tell you just now, but you asked about the whole bed thing and I got all embarrassed."

"But why were you pretending to be his girlfriend? Actually, don't answer that. You never said you were."

"I never said I was his girlfriend. Not to anyone."

"You just sat back and let three men make a tiger."

"Huh?"

"Sorry!" She rolled her eyes. "I've been listening to my father too much. It's an old Chinese Proverb." Then she said something in Chinese that sounded like "san ren cheng who."

"It means if three different people point at something and say that's a tiger, then everyone will believe it's a tiger. Even before I sat down, I'd been told twice that Dan had a new girlfriend. Then there you were with Dan's arm around you and I just assumed."

"I didn't want to make trouble. I just thought it would be fun not to tell people straight off that I was his sister."

"I know how that is. I have two older brothers. All their friends usually ignored me because I was merely the little sister. Well we weren't ignoring you. Everyone wanted to know about Dan's new girl."

"This is actually Dan's birthday present for me, bringing me to the game like this."

"Really? Happy birthday! How old are you?"

"I turn thirteen on Sunday."

"Thirteen? Thirteen?" Her eyes went big. "I had you pegged as being about a sophomore in high school. Thirteen?"

"Yeah!" I guess I kind of went shy at that. I looked down at the floor and tried to hide my face. It was nice that she thought I was older. Pearl didn't seem to notice, she just started talking about a time when she was about thirteen and she went with her brothers to a party and they abandoned her so she ended up sitting on her own in a corner until they were ready to leave. Or maybe she did notice, and was talking to let me get myself together.

In the middle of Pearl's story, we got to the front of the line and there was one stall free. Pearl hustled the two of us inside and closed the door. That didn't help my shyness at all. She just dropped her pants and sat on the toilet and continued on with her story. When she was finished, she got out of the way so I could sit down. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to "go" with her standing right there, but she wasn't looking at me. Pearl had found some graffiti behind the door and was reading it to me. It was some long poem about two people who'd supposedly had sex in this cubicle and had broken the toilet seat and the toilet paper holder from jumping around too much. It was pretty funny and I soon relaxed enough so I could pee.

-------

On the way back to our seats, I worried if people thinking I was Dan's girlfriend was going to be awkward for Dan. Finally I asked Pearl what she thought. She just grinned.

"I think when people find out you're his sister, they will just laugh. It's a good joke to play on us. We all spend way too much time gossiping about people's love lives."

I found Dan standing in the aisle with three other football players. It's only when I see Dan with the rest of his team that I remember that Dan isn't quite the biggest guy in the world. They were all stuffing their faces with burritos. Pearl rejoined her friends and I went and stood next to Dan. The other guys' eyes lit up when they saw me. I realized one of them was Al Jenkins, the captain and starting quarterback of Dan's team.

"So here's the mystery girlfriend," said Al through a mouthful of burrito. "Where've you been hiding her, Dan? Anyone who can shut down Sarah Taviori in one sentence is worth having around, as far as I'm concerned."

I decided this had gone far enough. "Actually, I'm not his girlfriend. I never said I was. People just saw us together and assumed. And if Dan's been hiding me anywhere, then that would be at his house. He's my brother!"

Four burritos stopped in unison, halfway to four mouths. Dan grinned at the other three guys and raised one eyebrow, then finished taking a bite of his burrito. The other three just looked at me, while their brains tried to adjust to suddenly changing the big label they had attached to me from "mysterious girlfriend" to "feisty sister."

Al was the first one to twig. He slapped his forehead. "Damn! Little Becky? I didn't recognize you. You're looking so ... grown up. Did you do something with your hair or something?"

The other guys chimed in with various greetings. These guys had been seeing me at games for two years, treating me like a favorite little cousin or something and they just hadn't recognized me because I grew a few inches and got my hair done. In a way, it kind of hurt. But in another way, it was nice they weren't treating me like a kid any more.

Well mostly! Gareth, the linebacker, ruined it a bit, when he said "Hey kiddo!"

I turned and glared at him. "I'm not a kid. I'm thirteen! Well, nearly. It's my birthday on Sunday." Then I kind of grinned at him to take the sting out of my reaction.

That was greeted with a chorus of "Happy Birthdays."

Al had more to say, "Hey guys! Do you realize what this means? Sarah Taviori got strips torn off her by a twelve year old!! Way to go, Becky!"

I wanted to scowl at him for saying I was twelve. I couldn't really complain though, because it was true!

I got to do high fives with all the guys. I was getting the strong impression that Sarah the Three was not very well liked at college. It was nearly time to get back to our seats so I wished them all good luck for their game tomorrow.

Al rolled his eyes. "Playing football on a Friday night! It's unnatural. It makes me feel like I'm back in high school." The game had been scheduled for a Friday because the other school had some special event happening this Saturday.

I gave Al a big hug and put on my best mother voice, "Oh you poor dear. There, there!" I patted his back. "I'm sure you'll manage, somehow."

I let go of Al and stepped back. He had a grin on his face.

"Hey!" called out Gareth. "I have to play on Friday too, where's my hug?"

I stifled a giggle and gave Gareth a hug too. Of course that meant I had to hug the other guy as well, I'd forgotten his name. These were all big guys. They gave good hugs. I turned and looked at Dan. I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot and sighed dramatically. "I suppose you want a hug too!"

He spread out his hands, "You're supposed to be my date for the evening and you're throwing yourself at all these other guys. I'm not sure if I should be jealous."

The other guys chuckled. I rolled my eyes at him and hugged him hard. Despite my acting all reluctant, I was never going to pass up a hug with Dan.

-------

The third quarter was much more like what I expected for NBA basketball. There were lots of fast breaks and accurate shooting and clever plays. They played bits of music every so often and the crowd really got into the game and everyone had a great time. The other team made a strong comeback and by the end of the third quarter, we were down by three points. Everything was set up for an exciting last quarter of basketball.

During the break, Dan and I chatted some more with Pearl, Faith and Danielle. It was all about trivial stuff so I won't repeat it. I made sure Dan was included in that conversation and didn't get distracted by any bimbos. That turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I simply sat myself sideways on Dan's lap with one arm around his neck so he couldn't see behind me. I was seated facing Pearl and I chatted with her and a few times I referred Pearl's questions to Dan, so he had to talk to Pearl to give the answers. At one stage that pair of boobs from earlier came wandering up to try and trap Dan, but he didn't see them because I was in the way. I glared at their owner until she went away and then I rejoined the conversation with Pearl. I grinned quietly to myself. Operation "Rescue Dan From Himself" was off to a good start.

A few people came up and gave me high fives for what I'd said to Sarah Taviori. I didn't think it was such a big thing, so I didn't know how to respond to all the praise. Apparently the word was out that I was Dan's sister and no one seemed offended or anything so that was a relief. Faith and Danielle thought it was a great joke. No one seemed to think it was weird that I was sitting on my brother's lap either, so that was good too. I was having such an awesome time! I made sure I whispered my thankyous into Dan's ear while I was sitting so close to it.

The final quarter was fantastic. The lead changed a dozen times. The excitement in the crowd was electric. I think I screamed so much that Dan went deaf in his right ear. During the timeouts, the crowd was doing the clapping and stamping that goes with "We Will Rock You," then singing the chorus. The whole thing was just awesome. Intense doesn't even begin to cover it. I was glad I got to pee at half-time. If I hadn't, I'm sure I would have wet my pants, I was so excited.

By the last few seconds of the game, we were down by one point. Everyone was frantic. We were all hoping someone would make some fantastic play and save the game. Then it happened! Just like in a movie. My special hero made a vital deflection, stole the rebound and sent the ball spinning down the court. Our rookie capped off a blinder of a game by collecting the pass and pulling off a perfect slam dunk to give us the win by one point, right on the buzzer.

Oh My God!!!

I just about jumped out of my skin!

I screamed myself hoarse.

YEAAAAAH!!!!!!!



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Chapter 18 : Date 3 - After The Game

After the game, while the crowd was milling around and saying their farewells to each other, Dan leaned in close to me.

"There's an ice-cream parlor about a block from where we parked the car. We have time to go there for half an hour before I have to get you home. You interested?"

I nodded, happily. To be honest I was so psyched up, I couldn't bear the idea of going home straight away and have the night suddenly come crashing to a finish. Then I had a sudden inspiration. I got up on my toes and whispered in his ear.

"You should invite Pearl and her friends to meet us there."

He looked at me strangely. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes! You should invite them. And Dan, talk to Pearl. She's really, really nice."

Dan shrugged and we went over to speak to Pearl and her friends. I smiled quietly to myself. It was nice to have Dan doing what I told him. It made me feel strong. Dan told them where we were going and invited them to join us. They glanced at each other and then agreed, so that was settled.

It took a while to say goodbye to all the people Dan knew in that little section. I tried hard to remember the names of the people I'd been introduced to, but I didn't get them all right. Everyone was really nice though, so that was okay. I got some more high fives from people.

Steve had heard about me hugging the other football players and complained that he hadn't got a hug. I rolled my eyes at Silvia and made sure I hugged him just like I'd hugged the others. I hugged Silvia as well and she kissed me on the cheek, so I kissed her cheek too. That set Steve off again, complaining about missing out on a kiss. I did this really dramatic sigh and carefully climbed up on a chair so I could reach to kiss his cheek. I didn't really need to stand on the chair, but I thought it would be funny if I did. I was right! It was funny, because Dan and Silvia and Pearl and her friends and a few others standing around, all saw what happened and they all laughed. Steve laughed too, and then he acted all fluttery and fanned his face with his hand and made a big thing about having been kissed by the most beautiful girl in the world. I slapped his chest for that, and Silvia said "Hey" and slapped his arm. Steve acted all scared and tried to defend himself from the two of us and then said "Oh! Er! Um! I meant by one of the two equal most beautiful girls in the world." We all laughed at that.

Silvia and I said, "Nice save!" in unison and everyone laughed again.

Eventually we got out of the arena and started walking towards the ice-cream parlor. It had been raining pretty hard. The pavement was wet and there were puddles of water in a few places. The rain had stopped though, so we could walk without getting wet. Pearl started off walking with Dan and me, while Faith and Danielle trailed along behind us. Pearl and I talked about trivial stuff for a bit, and then I nudged Dan and used my eyes to remind him to talk to Pearl. I waited until Dan picked up the conversation and then I dropped back to chat with Faith and Danielle.

"So, how long have you two been together?"

They glanced shyly at each other.

"Were we that obvious?" said Faith.

"Not really! I figured it out but I think most people wouldn't have noticed."

"Nobody cares at school, but we've been hassled a few times walking around town."

"Nothing serious," put in Danielle. "Just, you know, people staring and making comments to each other and stuff like that. This place is sort of conservative."

"So now we try and tone it down some while we're out in public," finished Faith.

"Well I'm not fussed. And Dan won't be either. We have an aunt who's a lesbian so we've kind of grown up with her and her partner being around."

"That's cool."

"Do your families know?"

"Mine do," said Faith. "I came out to them when I was fifteen. Danielle hasn't told her family though."

"My parents are ultra-ultra-conservatives," explained Danielle. "You know the type. For them, the Bible only exists as a weapon to beat down anyone who doesn't think exactly like they do. They'll completely freak if they find out I'm gay."

"That sucks. It must be hard living at home like that."

"It sucked big time. That's why I moved away from home when I got into college. I was able to convince my parents because we live way out of town. I told them I needed to move because it would be too far to drive to school. I had to listen to lectures about not being corrupted and not falling into a life of sin, but they let me move out. I found a place to live. I found a new church where I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not, and I met Faith at school. Life doesn't suck so much any more."

"So in the first week of school," put in Faith with a laugh, "she found faith and she found Faith!"

They had to explain that to me. It was obviously a joke Faith and Danielle had made lots of times. I guess if I'd been more of a churchy sort of person I would have got it straight away. I just hadn't followed the link from going to church to finding faith. I decided that it would probably make more sense if you saw it written down, so you could see where the capital letters were. I guess it was funny though.

Faith started talking about what it had been like telling her family that she was gay. It was pretty interesting but it boiled down to the fact that it hadn't been as bad as she'd expected. Her parents had been surprised at first, and then worried that she was making a mistake, and then willing to go along with her but expecting her to change her mind. After quite a while like that, they seemed to slowly accept that things weren't going to change, and that they had a daughter who was gay.

This must all sound like it took ages but it didn't really. It wasn't that far to walk to the ice-cream shop and we were done by the time we got there. While we were walking I'd been mostly concentrating on Faith and Danielle, but other bits of my brain were busy too.

One part of me was watching Dan and Pearl walking and talking in front of us. I only heard a few comments here and there but I heard enough to know what they were talking about. First they talked about differences between English food and American food and then about differences between Chinese-American restaurant food, Chinese-American food eaten in homes and Chinese food eaten in China.

I was pleased that Dan was being nice and talking with Pearl. I wasn't sure if he was being nice because I'd told him to, or because he was just a nice guy, or because he was genuinely interested in Pearl. Judging by previous performances, I figured it probably wasn't the last choice. I thought if I could get it through his thick head that someone like Pearl could be good to go out on dates with, then I was half-way there — wherever "there" was.

Another bit of my brain was stuck in a loop, thinking about Danielle not being able to tell her parents something that important about herself. It was pretty hard for me to imagine. I mean, I was having a problem telling my parents about how I thought something was wrong with my head. I mean as well as the Lambrecht's stuff. I'd tried earlier in the day telling Mom but she had pretty much not listened. I had no idea how to even start talking about it with Dad. Probably I'd end up saying it over and over. Eventually they would listen to me — I hoped. But saying stuff and having your parents not listen is totally different from not saying anything because you're afraid that your parents will go completely nuts at you. I couldn't imagine that.

So my brain was doing all those things at once. It felt pretty busy in there. I figured it was just as well that I only had to keep following Dan. If I'd been trying to remember how to get back to the car as well, my brain would have short-circuited and tripped all the safety switches. I'd have been left standing there like a mindless statue until someone pressed the reset button. Even having that thought was enough to make me lose track of what Faith had just said. I had to ask her to repeat it.

"I said, the only problem my mother has now is that she's disappointed she won't get to be a grandmother."

I laughed. "I should introduce you to my aunt and her partner. They have a nine-year-old son."

Faith and Danielle were interested in that. I don't think they were ready to have children right away. They were really only dating, after all. But I think they both liked the idea of someday being in a long-term relationship and bringing up a child.

They had some questions about how it was done and whether there were problems bringing up a child with two mothers. I hardly had any answers for them. These were mostly questions I'd asked and I'd been told that world's most hated phrase, "I'll tell you when you're older." Maybe now I was turning thirteen it was time I asked them again!

We finally arrived at the ice-cream parlor and it was pretty busy. It looked like quite a few other people from the game had the same idea as us because there were a lot of people wearing team hats and team scarves and so on.

We stood in line for a while; then we got our order. Dan bought me a caramel milk shake and he had some coffee and a banana split. Faith and Danielle had coffee and shared an ice-cream sundae and Pearl just had coffee — apparently she's lactose intolerant and can't eat ice-cream. That didn't sound like fun!

We were lucky to get a little table in the back that emptied just as we walked away from the counter with our orders. It was pretty small for a four person-table and there were five of us but that didn't matter. The only problem was that there were only three chairs. Every other chair in the place was taken. Faith and Danielle shared one chair, sitting side by side with half their butts hanging off the side of the chair. Pearl had the second chair and Dan had the last one. I got to sit on his lap, again. I seemed to have been doing a lot of that this evening. I wasn't complaining.

I figured I would need to give Dan a little push, so when the conversation came around to college I asked a couple of questions about the place and threw in one about if they had a nice place to eat lunch. I found out that they always sat in the same place and also that Dan shared the same lunch time. I filed it all away for later.

When I finished my milk shake, I went to put the paper cup down on the table. It was a small table and there was so much junk there already that I had nowhere to put mine. Danielle was sitting next to me and she reached out to shift things around for me. When she did, the cuff of her long sleeve shirt slid down and I saw a thin red scar across the inside of her wrist. It took me the couple of seconds while I put my cup down to make the connection, but then I gasped and grabbed her wrist so I could see the scar more clearly.

I looked up at Danielle's face as I held her wrist in both my hands. She had tiny little pink spots showing on her cheeks, but she just looked at me and shrugged.

"I told you living with my parents sucked!"

I could feel tears forming up behind my eyes, but I refused to let them out. I didn't think Danielle needed my crying right then. The first thought that went through my head was how terrible she must have been feeling to do something like this. I looked back down at her wrist. Somehow my finger had decided to run gently along the line of the scar, as if it would pick up some vital piece of wisdom from my feather-like touch.

The next thought that went through my brain was that when I decide to kill myself, I must make sure I cut deep enough so I die right away.

That idea went off like a gong inside my head, echoing around and around inside my skull. When I decide to kill myself...

Like I knew it was going to happen, I just didn't know when.

Bonggggg!!!!

Having that noise in my head meant I couldn't really have any more thoughts for a while.

-------

Someone grabbed my head with both hands and moved it. I found myself face-to-face with Danielle. She must have seen something in my expression. Her face was white. She was looking angry and worried. She talked straight at me, from about six inches away. She talked quietly because we were in a crowded place and she didn't want others to hear but clearly she wanted to shout at me. Her words slammed into me.

"This was the single most stupid thing I've ever done in my life. Whatever your reasons are, whatever you're thinking, don't do this. Things are never, never so bad that you have no other choice. I got through my problems. You will get through whatever your problems are. Don't do this! It was stupid for me. It would be even stupider for you. Don't do this."

Every time she said "this," Danielle was waving her scarred wrist right in front of me. It meant her fingers sometimes went between her eyes and mine. That was a bad thing because I was trapped inside her angry, frightened eyes. They were boring into me, driving her words directly inside my skull. Then her fingers would cut across our vision and a word or two would bounce off them and go spinning out into the room, lost forever.

And what she was saying was so important. I didn't want to lose any of it. I wanted to paint her words in ten-foot-high letters around the inside of my skull. I wanted to cling onto them, absorb them into me and make them mine. I wanted to use them to drive that thought of mine away. Chase it out and slam the door behind it. Bolt and chain the door so it could never get back in. It had scared me. It had scared me so much I couldn't think straight. I don't know where it came from. Danielle was totally right. Things weren't that bad. I'd spent all evening being happy.

Why on earth would I want to kill myself?

Then I got to the point where her words had filled up my brain. There wasn't any space left. But Danielle wanted to keep talking at me. If she did that, all the new words would just spill straight back out of my head and drip uselessly down onto the floor.

I carefully reached out and grasped Danielle's arms, just below her shoulders. Then I pulled her towards me. I couldn't move very well 'cause I was on Dan's lap and he was holding me very tightly. I leant forward and kissed her gently on the lips. That stopped her talking. Then I slid my face past hers and wrapped my arms around her.

One of us was shaking, I wasn't sure who. Or maybe we were both shaking. Or maybe we were still and the rest of the world was shaking. I held on tightly until the shaking stopped. It didn't take long, not really. It just felt like it took ages. I could feel Dan softly stroking the sides of my arms. I used one hand to stroke down Danielle's spine. It made me feel better when Dan did that to me, so I figured it would help her as well.

Finally Danielle leaned back out of the hug. Not far, just so she could see my face again. Her face was still as white as chalk.

"Promise me," she whispered. "Promise me you won't do this."

My voice had disappeared. It was like I'd forgotten how to make words. I nodded to her but that didn't seem like it was enough. I freed up one hand so I could run a finger down and across my chest and then down again the other way. Cross my heart and hope to ... oh!

Danielle seemed to accept that. She slowly nodded back at me and then drew away. Faith wrapped her arms around Danielle and held her. Pearl stood behind the two of them and gently rubbed Danielle's shoulders and neck. Her face was still completely white. Her eyes still fixed on mine.

I watched them do this and knew how much I'd upset her. I felt bad about that, really bad. I felt like shit. Here was someone I only met tonight and I hurt her. I hurt her terribly. I felt so ashamed. I hated myself just then. I hated myself more than I would ever have believed was possible.

I huddled back into Dan and laid my head on his chest, watching Danielle all the time. Dan squeezed me gently with his arms and kept stroking me, stroking my back and my head. He was stroking me like I was a cat but I didn't feel like purring. I just nestled there and watched Danielle. She sat and accepted the comfort from her friends and watched me. After a bit like that, I nodded to her again, my face rubbing against Dan's chest as I moved it. I ran my finger across my chest, crossing my heart again for her.

Danielle gave me a half smile at that and turned to Faith, gesturing with her head towards the door. Faith looked across at us and said, "I think we better head off."

"And it's time for me to get this little one home," replied Dan.

He stood up. I wrapped my arms more tightly around his neck and made him pick me up. He walked over to Danielle with me cradled in his arms. He freed up one hand and put it gently on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry about the way this ended. Bec will be okay. She's going through some stuff right now, but she will be fine. Thank you for saying that to her, I think maybe she needed to hear it. Will you be okay?"

All this time, I'd been nestled against Dan's chest, watching Danielle. She'd kept watching me, until Dan touched her.

"I'll be fine. I have my friend Pearl and I have my Faith to hold onto." She kind of half-grinned at Dan when she said that. Dan didn't really get it, because he hadn't heard the earlier discussion, but I got it. She had both kinds of faith to hold onto.

"It was nice meeting you. It was nice meeting all of you. I hope I'll see you again, maybe around school sometime."

Dan turned and headed towards the door. I lifted my head so I could look over Dan's shoulder and watch Danielle and Faith and Pearl as they got themselves organized and started following us to the door.

Outside, it had started raining. Dan stopped in the shelter just outside the door. "I'm not carrying you all the way to the car."

I nodded and lowered my feet to the ground. Then I slipped my little hand inside Dan's big one.

"Are you up for running? I think the rain might get harder if we wait too long."

I nodded again and we took off running through the rain, me clinging to Dan's hand all the way.

-------

I was a bit damp by the time we made it to the car. I was shivering as I slid into the seat. I did up my seatbelt, then kicked off my shoes. That meant I could tuck my feet up on the seat with my knees up in front of my chest. I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my chin on my knees. Tucked up into a little ball, I just sat and stared at the windscreen, entranced by the lines of water running down the glass.

Dan started the car with a vroom. He carefully backed the car out of the parking spot and steered us into the street. After a couple of minutes, Dan turned the heater on full blast so that we could dry off a little. There was a lot of rain falling out of the sky and there was a lot of water on the roads. I think Dan was driving really carefully and I was glad about that. Feeling safe was pretty important to me right then.

I was surrounded by sound. There was the vroom of the engine and the roar of the rain on the roof and the squeak and groan of the wipers and the whir of the heater fan and the thudding of my heart and the hiss of the wheels running across the wet road and the noises of the other cars, and in the distance an ambulance siren wailed like a lost child. Inside all that sound, I squeezed myself into a little ball of silence.

-------

Dan's voice stabbed into my silence so suddenly that it popped and disappeared like a soap-bubble.

"Are you ready to talk yet?"

That was a good question. I looked inside my brain. It was like looking at a TV when the station goes off air; just a screen full of static. Dad calls it snow but I don't know why. Inside my brain was just static. I didn't look at Dan. I just shook my head and kept looking at the rain.

"That's no problem. But you seem to be hearing me okay. Can I talk to you?"

That was true. I was hearing his words and they were all making sense. I was feeling the hot air from the heater wash over me. I was seeing the headlights sweep through the driving rain. I was smelling that smell you get when damp clothes get warm. All the ways for things to get into my brain seemed to be working. I was even thinking thoughts. The problem was that the static inside my head was stopping the thoughts from going anywhere. Thoughts that would normally turn into words were floating around in the static like junk floating on a slow-moving polluted river, all piled up and bumping into each other and going round and round in little eddies. The insides of my brain were a mess. Nothing sensible was going to come out of there anytime soon.

Dan had asked if he could talk to me. I didn't care if he talked or not. I shrugged.

"So, I can say something. That's good, because I've been thinking."

I was pretty sure I knew what he was going to say. I got ready to just let his words wash over me and drain away into the static. I'd already got the message from Danielle. I didn't need to hear it again from Dan.

"I've been thinking about what you said in the restaurant." Oh! That wasn't what I was expecting. A bit of my brain ran around scooping the words back up out of the static so I could examine them. I'd said a lot in the restaurant. You could write a book about what I said in the restaurant. Which part of what I'd said had Dan been thinking about?

"You said you were worried that you didn't know any boys. You wanted to know how they were going to ask you out on dates if they didn't know you." Oh! That part. I remember saying that!

"I remember up until I was twelve or so, girls were a bit of a mystery to me. The girls and the boys in my class mostly just avoided each other. We were in the same class but we might as well have been on different planets. Then some of the girls started hanging around me and my friends. We were the popular boys, and those girls just came up to us and started talking to us.

"Now the class was split into three different groups. There were the quiet boys, the quiet girls and us. I never really needed to understand the quieter girls because I was always surrounded by the ones who wanted to talk to me. I never spent much time with the quieter boys because they didn't do sports.

"It was really only by watching you and Tara grow up that I started to understand more. I started to treat the girls around me the way I would want you to be treated. They seemed to like that, so I did it more. Positive feedback in action!

"By that time we had moved out here. The same three groups seemed to exist here as they did in England. Maybe the same thing happens everywhere, I don't know.

"I had a couple of friends in high school who weren't jocks, Brian and Manny. We were assigned together for a science project and somehow they realized that I wasn't completely stupid. They were both total brains. I had to work incredibly hard to keep up with them. I think they respected me for that. They kept inviting me to study with them.

"Brian and Manny came out to our place a few times to work on various school projects and things. I don't think you said three words in a row when they were there but I'm sure you remember them."

I nodded. I remembered them. I remembered being awed by how smart they were.

"You used to sit in the room pretending to read a book. I could tell you were listening to every word they said, trying to understand what they were talking about. Science and math and politics and history that was seven years over your head, but you tried to soak it in. I know you understood some of it, because a couple of times you quizzed me after they left, asking me question after question."

I nodded again. They were the few times I'd understood enough to be able to ask sensible questions.

"Some of those questions you asked ... boy, I was struggling to answer them. And I was sixteen and you were nine. I'm not sure I could answer them very well now that I'm twenty."

Dan was silent for a bit. I think he realized that he'd gotten off track and was trying to get back to his point. Whatever that was! I had no clue where this was all going. But it was nice listening to Dan talk. His voice was blocking out all the other sounds and draining away the static. His words were filling my head with memories and thoughts that I could process and organize and file away properly. It was comforting to have a tidy brain again.

By now my clothes were mostly dry and I was feeling toasty-warm. The hot air blasting at me was now more annoying than comforting. I reached out and adjusted the heater control down a few notches so now it just gently wafted warm air at me.

I turned my head and laid it sideways on my knees so I could watch Dan as he drove. My arms wrapped once more around my legs, squeezing myself back into a ball, I relaxed into stillness and waited for Dan to continue.

"They seemed to always avoid the girls at school and I couldn't work out why. One day I asked them about it. Manny told me he had a girlfriend. A nice Spanish girl he met through his family and their friends. Because of her, he didn't need to chase after the girls at school. Brian told me he wanted to get together more with the girls but the popular ones all preferred us jocks and the rest just ignored him.

"Finally I worked out how I could help Brian. I persuaded him that the group of quieter girls were thinking much the same things he was. He assumed I knew what I was talking about because I knew so many girls. To be honest I was guessing but I didn't tell him that. I persuaded him and Manny to just go talk to the girls. Talk about school, classes, assignments ... anything. Just talk. Amazingly enough, it worked. Slowly Brian and Manny made friends with a number of girls — girls who wouldn't have anything to do with me and the rest of us jocks. Less than a year later, Brian had a steady girlfriend. They're still together."

I smiled at Dan. I was proud of him. He'd helped his friend. I could have stopped him talking then. I'd got his point. I knew what he was going to say. But Dan didn't usually talk this much and it was nice to listen to him, so I kept listening. I just sat there with my head resting side-ways on my knees and watched his face as he concentrated on driving and talking.

"To get back to your problem, the reason you don't know many boys is that they are probably just as mystified by you as you are by them. I hate to say this but you should probably avoid the jocks. Most of us were assholes back then — some of us still are! Pick out some of those boys who avoid the loud people and just sit around doing their own thing. Pick the boys who put their hands up in class for more than just to go to the bathroom. They probably don't realize you would be interested in talking to them. One way to change that is for you to go up and say "hello" to them. Ask them some question about your homework. Complain to them about how bad your teachers are. It probably doesn't matter what you say. Just say "hello" and start talking to them. Once you talk to some of the boys, the others will realize you are someone who can be talked to.

"I know that might be hard for you to do. Maybe if you get your friend Liz on your side, the two of you could do it together. Ambush some poor defenseless boys during lunch. I'm feeling sorry for them already. They won't know what's hit them."

I smiled at Dan. Yes, maybe I could do that. I reached out one hand and touched his thigh so he would look at me. I said "thank you" but I don't think any sound came out. It didn't matter. Dan saw my lips move and knew what I was saying. He smiled at me and went back to driving. I glanced out the window and saw that we were nearly home.

In a way I was surprised that Dan had wanted to say all that. I had expected him to give me some speech about what happened in the ice-cream parlor. Instead I got a pep-talk about talking to boys and making some new friends. Then I replayed his speech in my head and I noticed something important. In the spaces when he wasn't talking, he'd been telling me something else. In the gaps between the words, he'd been giving me a different pep-talk.

I replayed his speech again and this time I only listened to the pauses. His message came through strong and loud and clear. He'd been telling me that he loved me and that he was listening to me. He was telling me that when I shared my problems with him that he could help me — at least with some things. He was telling me that if one problem could be solved, then maybe others could be solved too. He was telling me that friends were important and that they helped each other.

And he was telling me that my life wasn't so bad if I had friends and a big brother and if I had ideas for making things better.

And he was telling me not to kill myself.

It was weird really, because I never meant to do that anyway!

I still didn't understand why I had thought about it, when I saw Danielle's scar.

That's what scared me!

-------

Dan parked the car outside our house. He knew I was watching him. He didn't look at me. He just went through all the moves, accepting my silence, hoping that I had heard his message.

When the car was still and the engine stopped, I realized it was time for me to move. I carefully uncurled myself from my secure little ball and reached down to slip my shoes on. That would have easier if I'd undone my seatbelt first. I undid my seatbelt and enjoyed watching it wind itself smoothly back out of the way. I reached for the door but I stopped when I saw that Dan was just sitting, watching me.

I twisted on the seat and looked at him, wondering what was going on inside his head this time.

"Those things Danielle said to you, at the ice-cream parlor..." Oh that!

"Was she right? Were you thinking about... ?"

I didn't know how to answer that. Yes and no! I shrugged.

"Ah! Only sort of!" See? Who needs to talk when Dan understands my shrugs?

"It really scared me; that you would even think about doing that."

I dropped my eyes and nodded. I wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to scare him. It just happened, that's all. Like an accident! An accidental thought! I looked back up at Dan, knowing what was coming next.

"I saw you promise Danielle. You promised twice. I'm going to hold you to that promise, do you understand?"

I nodded again. For a third time that evening, I carefully used one finger to draw a big cross over my heart.

"Third times the charm, huh? Okay, I can live with that."

He glanced out of the window where the rain was pelting down. "Let's get inside. Here, wrap this around yourself. At least one of us can stay dry." Dan slipped out of his jacket and tried to wrap it around me. I stopped Dan from giving it to me and slung it over his head instead. Then I held it out to show him there was room for two under there. Dan nodded and got himself out of the car; closing the door quickly so that not too much rain got inside.

I waited until Dan came around my side of the car, then I quickly joined him under the shelter of his jacket. Together we raced for the house through the pelting rain.

-------

Inside the house, it was warm and dry and cozy and cheerful. Everyone was waiting for us — well Mom, Dad and Tara were waiting for us, Angie was in bed and Nana must have gone home! Our legs had gotten soaked in the brief dash from the car to the house. Tara wanted us to tell them everything that had happened the instant we walked through the door. I stayed quiet and let Dan talk. It wasn't that I couldn't talk. I felt like I could if I wanted to. It's just that I'd been silent for so long, it was hard to break the habit.

It didn't matter because Mom wouldn't let us talk much anyway. She saw that our clothes were wet and chased us out of the room; me to have a shower and Dan to change out of his wet clothes until he could have a turn in the shower.

I came out of the bathroom wearing my pyjamas and a warm robe, with a towel wrapped around my wet hair. I'd tried to be quick because I knew Dan needed a shower too, but obviously I hadn't been quick enough for Tara. She was lurking in the hallway and pounced on me with her questions as soon as I opened the door.

I went into my room, Tara following hard on my heels. Tara sat on my chair, so I plugged in my hairdryer, sat on my bed and started working on my hair. That made it harder for Tara to question me, but not impossible. I started answering her with nods and shakes, then graduated to quiet one word answers. By the time my hair was dry and I could just sit and brush it out, I was using whole sentences, though my voice was still fairly quiet.

I told Tara some of the highlights of the evening and skipped over the lowlights. Is "lowlights" a word? I especially made sure I told Tara all about Pearl. I said I thought she was maybe a nine, but we would have to work on Dan to get her noticed, on account of her not meeting his usual requirements.

Tara said, "There's no time like the present." Then she took the brush out of my hand, grabbed my wrist and led me out of my room in search of Dan. We met Mom and Dad in the hallway. They were on their way to bed. They told us to get to bed since we had school in the morning. We both promised faithfully to do just that, then kept looking around the house. The lights were out in the main part of the house, so we headed toward Dan's bedroom.

We found Dan in the hallway heading towards his room, having just finished his shower. He was wearing boxers with a robe hanging loosely over his shoulders. When he saw us, he pulled the robe closed and tied up the belt. I gripped his elbow and steered him into his bedroom. Tara followed us in and closed the door firmly behind her.

"What is it, girls? What's going on?"

"Dan, we need to talk to you," said Tara.

"That's right, and this is important so you should listen carefully," I put in. Surprisingly my voice came out clear and strong. Now that I had a mission, it decided to work properly.

Dan's eyebrows lifted up when I said that. "So now you're ready to talk to me?"

Tara's forehead went all crinkly. "What do you mean?"

I didn't want to discuss that. "Never mind."

I turned back to Dan, "You're supposed to be listening to us right now."

"Okay!" Dan replied, and sat down on his bed. "I'm listening."

Tara and I lined up in front of him. Tara had her arms on her hips and I had my arms crossed on my chest.

"Dan, we have a new project for you," started Tara.

I followed that up with, "a long-term project!"

Dan crinkled his forehead, "How long term?"

Tara shrugged, "As long as it takes!"

I gestured at Tara and myself, "Meet two of your three project supervisors."

"Who's the third?" Dan wanted to know.

"Angie."

"Oh! So when you say a long-term project, you really mean a long term project!"

Tara nodded. "If necessary!"

I was starting to think that if we kept on with this double-act, that maybe we should have rehearsed it before we started. But it was going okay so far, so maybe we'd manage.

"Are you going to tell me what this project is?"

"It's called, Stop Dan Being Stupid!" said Tara.

Dan's forehead crinkled again, "I wasn't aware I was being stupid!"

Tara rolled her eyes at that. "Of course you weren't aware of it."

"If you knew you were being stupid, you probably would have stopped yourself by now." I'd rolled my eyes too, but I didn't get it in sync with Tara. Now if we'd rehearsed, we would have been able to roll our eyes in unison. That would have gotten Dan's attention!

"So how am I being stupid?"

Tara gestured to me, since I had the most recent information.

"Well for starters, at the first-quarter break tonight. We were talking with three really nice, interesting girls and you turned your back on them so you could get 'chatted up' by that blond thing with boobs out to here." Fortunately, my arms were long enough — just!

"You totally dissed the four of us, to talk to someone with less brains than a rabbit. She was only after one thing from you, and it wasn't scintillating conversation. And by the way, if you ever, ever bring her into this house, I'll never talk to you again."

"That goes for me too," Tara backed me up. "We've had enough of the parade of idiots that you bring through the house. Sometimes you manage to avoid having Mom and Dad meet them, but we always seem to run into them. It's not good enough, Dan. You can do better — a whole lot better. In all the time you've been dating, you've only brought home two girls that were halfway decent — two!"

"So here's the project, Dan." I was ready to lay it out. "You're going to take the same advice you gave me in the car. You're going to stop only paying attention to the girls who throw themselves at you..."

"Just because they're offering free goodies, doesn't mean you have to accept!" interrupted Tara. Ooo I wish I'd said that!

" ... and you're going to start paying attention to the quieter girls who normally steer clear of you."

"But..." started Dan. I wasn't ready for him to talk.

"But nothing! Rumor has it, you're a decent guy. I've got no idea how they get that impression. You're polite and all that, but you refuse to date a girl who doesn't have a pair of bazookas on her chest. I gather they've all figured that out, so a lot of decent girls mostly stay away from you. What that means is that even though they've been avoiding you, a lot of them won't turn their nose up at you if you talk to them. So talk to them!!"

I was on a roll now. "I'm going to ask you pretty much the same question I asked you in the restaurant. Is it a problem with your dick? Does it only get hard when you see a big pair of boobs?"

Tara gasped beside me and turned to look at me. I could hear the questions in her gasp. "Did I really say that? Did I really say that in a restaurant? Did I really say that in a restaurant to Dan?"

I had no time for Tara, I was focussed on Dan. He'd gone a bit red. It was good that I'd embarrassed him. It meant I was getting through his thick head. I had to concentrate hard to squash the embarrassment I was feeling about being so crude — again!

I decided we'd made our point, so I moved and sat on the bed beside Dan, my leg hard against his. I picked up one of his big, meaty hands and held it in both of mine. Tara took my cue and copied me on his other side.

"Tomorrow, at school, at lunchtime, I want you to go find Danielle, Faith and Pearl. You heard where they sit each day. I want you to check that Danielle's okay for me and tell her I'm really, really sorry for upsetting her. Please tell her I didn't mean to hurt her. That's not part of the project, that's just me sending her an apology.

"Then I want you to sit and have lunch and talk with them. That is part of the project. Danielle and Faith aren't that interested in you, but Pearl is. Just talk to her."

"Dan," said Tara firmly. "Now say, 'Yes Bec, I'll do that for you.'"

Dan grinned at Tara then turned back to me. I could see his eyes sparkling as he tried not to laugh. "Yes Bec, I'll do that for you."

Tara wasn't finished. "You should invite Pearl to the football game tomorrow night. Then after the game, you could take her to get pizza or something. From what Bec says, Pearl would be a good person for you to take out on a date."

"She can sit with me during the game. I'm going tomorrow night but Tara isn't, so I'd love to have someone to sit with."

Dan chuckled, "I'll see. I won't promise to ask Pearl out until I've talked to her at lunchtime. But I do promise to talk to her and her friends tomorrow. Is that acceptable to my project supervisors?"

Tara leaned forward so she could look at me around Dan's big chest. "Come on, let's get outa here. Our work here is done." Then she kissed Dan goodnight and stood up.

I kissed Dan too and gave him a quick hug. "Thank you again for tonight. I had a fantastic time, even if it didn't all go quite to plan."

"Hey!" His voice was gentle and soft, "Is that why you shut down on me in the car? Was it because you'd hurt Danielle? I thought it was because of what she said to you!"

I didn't know how to answer that, so I just shrugged.

"Sort of, huh? Maybe a bit of both? Okay, I'll make sure she gets your message."

He kissed me on the cheek and then gently pushed me off his bed and toward the door. "Goodnight both of you. I'll see you tomorrow."

We closed Dan's door behind us and walked together down the hall.

"That went better than I expected," said Tara.

I shrugged, "You and me, we're both feisty girls. Dan didn't stand a chance."

Tara laughed. "Feisty? I guess so!"

"By the way, do you remember Sarah the Three? We met up with her tonight. She's gotten worse in her old age. I think now she's dropped down to a rating of one!"

We laughed with each other and headed into our own rooms.

I closed my door behind me and leant against it. I chuckled quietly to myself. I was pretty sure that any future dates I had, the evening wouldn't end with me ordering my date to go out looking for other girls.

I slipped off my robe and hung it on its hook. I reached out and flipped off my light. I crossed my room in the dark and slipped into bed.

Lying flat on my back, I looked up into the darkness, waiting for sleep to claim me.

And that was my first date!

I wondered if my next date would be so interesting.

I wondered who it would be.



-------

Chapter 19 : Late Thursday Night

The problem with having an exciting evening is that when you go to bed afterwards, it can be really hard to get to sleep. On Wednesday night, I went to sleep late, though I've no idea what time it was. I'd woken up this morning at about 3:00 AM, and I'd been going flat out all day since then, except for a couple of hours sleep in the nurse's office in the afternoon. I should be tired. I was tired. My body was ready to go to sleep but my brain wasn't. Or maybe it was the other way around and my brain was ready to go to sleep but my body wasn't.

Whichever way it was, I couldn't get to sleep. I lay on my back and looked up into the darkness. I rolled onto my side. I curled up into a ball. I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in the pillow. I turned over and lay on my back and stared up into the darkness. I lay on my other side. I squished my pillow up a few times. I counted sheep jumping over a fence. I dug a hole under the fence and let the sheep crawl underneath. I walked six feet to the side and opened the gate so the poor sheep could just walk through like any normal sheep would want to. None of it worked. The sheep went to sleep but I didn't.

After some time of this, a little bit of my brain waved a white flag and asked for a parley. It said, "Can we do something else now? This is boring." Soon all the bits of my brain were chanting "boring, boring!"

-------

I sat at my desk, the work light bathing my face with its steady glow. I pulled my warm robe more tightly around my waist and wiggled my toes in my fluffy slippers. What to do? What to do? My attention was grabbed by a yellow post-it note stuck to the inside of my skull. It said "condi?"

That's something to do. Grabbing my dictionary from its place beside my desk, I flipped through the pages to words starting with "condi." There were words like "condition" and then "condiment" which I knew means seasonings like salt and pepper. There was no sign of the word I was looking for.

Straight after that were words starting with "condo" like "condole" and "condolence" and "condom" and "condominium."

Oooh, what does it say about condom? (1: a rubber sheath worn over the penis to prevent conception or venereal infection during coitus 2: a device that is designed to be inserted into the vagina before coitus and that resembles in form and function the condom used by males.)

Inserted into the vagina? Huh? I thought they went on a boy's penis like the first option says. Mom told me about condoms — she said they go on the boy's penis to stop a girl from getting pregnant. She didn't say anything about a condom that goes into a girl's vagina. "Resembles in form and function..." does that mean it looks like a normal condom? Mom never showed me a normal condom, so that wasn't helpful.

Hang on a minute! Is "coitus" what I think it is? Coitus, coitus, coitus... there it is. Coitus (physical union of male and female genitalia accompanied by rhythmic movements; sexual intercourse) I giggled. Yep, just like I thought! But why didn't they just say "... during sex"? Hmm. Wait on, didn't that president get into trouble for saying "I did not have sex with that woman," when he really had done sex things with her, just not proper sex. Maybe he should have said "I did not have coitus with that woman." Then everyone would have understood him.

This was all very interesting, but I started all this by looking up that "condi?" word and I still hadn't found it. I was pretty sure it started with "cond" so I went back to the beginning of all the words starting with "cond" and worked my way through. Finally, right below "condemn," I found something like what I was looking for, "condescend." (intransitive verb 1: to act in a superior way, to behave toward other people as though they are inferior 2: to do something regarded as unimportant or demeaning in order to impress others.) I wasn't sure about the second meaning but the first option was more or less right — except I couldn't remember what an "intransitive verb" is. Then listed straight below that I saw "condescending." (adjective, assuming a tone of superiority or a patronizing attitude.)

That's the word. Now I remembered it. Dan was being condescending when he said what he said! Inside my brain I took the yellow post-it note, scribbled out "condi?" and wrote "condescending" instead. Then I filed the note under "useful words" in the memory part of my brain.

I thought maybe I should try to use "condescending" three times tomorrow. But then I thought that if I used it to a teacher by saying something like "You're being condescending" they might get angry. And I couldn't see how I could say "condescending" to another student without being condescending by using it. So maybe that wasn't a good idea.

I was just about to close the dictionary when I started to wonder about "intransitive verb." I knew a verb was an action word — the "intransitive" part had me stumped. Dad always told me to look at parts of the word for pieces I recognized. This word has "transit" in it. I was pretty sure "transit" means travel, like a "transit system" is busses or trains. "In" sometimes means inside. So it could mean travel inside something like inside a bus. But "condescend" was nothing like that, so that couldn't be right. Then I remembered that "in" sometimes means the opposite of — like "inaccurate" is the opposite of "accurate." Maybe intransitive verbs are all the verbs that are not travel words.

Then I went "Doh!" and slapped my forehead. I was holding a dictionary and trying to figure out what a word meant. How stupid am I? I looked up "intransitive" (a verb having or needing no object — see transitive verb). Hmm! What's an object? What sort of object? What does it mean that it doesn't need one? It said "see transitive verb" so I looked up "transitive" (a verb needing an object — see intransitive). How infuriating. The stupid dictionary is sending me round in circles. I shut the dictionary and shoved it back into its place, glaring at it in disgust.

-------

I walked through the darkness of the living room, trailing the fingers of my right hand lightly along the wall. The darkness allowed me to focus on the slightly coarse feel of the painted surface under my fingers. Then my fingers found the bottom of the frame that held one of Mom's paintings. I couldn't make out the picture in the darkness, but that was okay. I closed my eyes and I could see it clearly, projected on the inside of my skull.

It was a portrait Mom painted soon after Angie was born. Tara is seated on a low stool holding a chubby baby Angie like she's the most precious thing in the world. There's ten-year-old me on my knees on the carpet beside them, one arm draped over Tara's shoulders, the other reaching in front to help support Angie's tiny, precious head. We're wearing shorts and t-shirts, bright colors — it was summer. Both our faces are filled with love and awe and joy as we look at Angie's round little face. Behind us, Mom stands looking out into the room, one hand on each of our shoulders. She looks proud and strong. Her eyes catch anyone who looks. You can almost hear her voice. "Look at these. Look what I made. In my body I bore them. With my hands I raised them. These are my girls." A few times when I looked at the painting I heard her say something different. Sometimes Mom seemed to be glaring out into the room and saying, "Don't mess with me. Don't mess with my girls!" Did I mention sometimes Mom can be scary? We never posed for the painting of course, Mom just painted it.

I ran my fingers along the wooden frame, letting them explore the texture of the wood. Then when I was directly under the middle of the painting, I did what I have done countless times before. I dropped my hand and turned my back on it. Usually I've done this in a brightly lit room, so I could see clearly what I'm looking at. This time, looking across the room in the darkness, I could only just make out a rectangular frame, darker than the wall it sits on, above the couch. I couldn't see it very well of course but it was there, the matching painting.

That one has Dad standing with Dan on the grass in front of a football goalpost. Dan is in his high school football uniform, holding a ball loosely under one arm. Dad stands beside Dan, holding the helmet for him. They both have calm, relaxed expressions on their faces, but there is a hidden strength in both of them. The family resemblance is strong. Those two have nothing to say. Together, they gaze solidly out of the picture, directly across the room. Right to where I'm standing. Right to where our picture hangs. This is a favorite place for me. Right in front of Mom and my sisters. Right where Dad and Dan can watch over me. I can feel their silent gaze resting on me, watching me, loving me. I can feel Mom's hand on my shoulder, Tara beside me, Angie held in our arms. This is my family, this is where I belong. This is where I'm strongest. This is where I'm safest.

-------

I stood in the dark, silent and still, and looked down at my parents, sleeping in their bed. Once again, there's a large expanse of empty bed between them. It's a Bec sized space. I would fit neatly into that gap. I'd be quite comfortable lying there. I wasn't really welcome though. If I crawled into that bed, Dad would get out and go sleep on the couch.

Maybe once when I was little, it was okay but not anymore. I didn't understand why.

It's probably something to do with what's wrong with me.

-------

I lay on my back in my own bed and stared up into the darkness. I rolled onto my side. I curled up into a ball. I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in the pillow. I turned over and lay on my back and stared up into the darkness. I lay on my other side. I squished my pillow up a few times. I counted sheep jumping over a fence, crawling under a fence, walking through a gate. I counted how many sheep went to sleep. I counted backwards from one hundred by sevens and got to negative one hundred and thirty-something before I got all confused.

My brain felt so tired. It cried out in frustration.

Sleep! Let me sleep!

-------

I sat twisting the computer chair slightly back and forth; little movements while my eyes watched Dan sleep in the darkness of his room. He was lying on his side, facing me, his blankets tucked over his shoulders. I could hear his not-quite-snoring and I could just see his blanket-covered shoulder raising and falling in time with the breathing.

There was the hint of a strange smell in the room — a bit musty or something. I shifted slightly, trying to decide where the smell was coming from. My feet disturbed something on the floor beside the chair. Reaching down in the darkness, I discovered it was a pair of Dan's boxers. I figured he must have changed before he went to bed. I felt my way around the walls of his room until I got to the place beside his closet where Dan's clothes hamper sits and dropped the boxers in.

The power light on the computer was glowing orange. I shifted the mouse and waited while the screen woke up. I was hoping to be asked for a password, I was expecting to see Dan's computer desktop with its mess of icons. What I found was the web browser was already open, a full screen picture displayed.

It was a picture of a naked girl sprawled out on a padded armchair. She looked about eighteen or nineteen. Her orange-red hair looped and curled and frizzed down to her shoulders. A smattering of freckles splashed across her face and shoulders, standing out against her very pale skin. Her sparkling green eyes stared straight out of the screen and a soft smile played across her lips. She wasn't fat, but not skinny either, she just had curves where women are supposed to be curvy. One arm lay down along her side, allowing a relaxed hand to sit just above a small patch of equally bright orange-red curls of pubic hair. The other hand lazily trailed a finger across the skin above her breasts. That's when I noticed that she had small breasts. They looked like two half-oranges sitting perkily on her chest — except they were the covered with the same very pale skin as the rest of her and had their own scattering of freckles.

This was interesting. Dan had been looking at this girl, with her small boobs. Maybe there was hope for him yet. I wondered if it was an accident so I called up the browsing history and saw a search listing sitting there, followed by a series of websites he'd accessed from that search. Dan had done a search for "small boobs." There were over one and half million hits. That's one and half million websites with women with small boobs. If we could get Dan looking at pictures of women with small boobs and he looked at ten websites each night, then that's one hundred and fifty thousand nights worth of pictures. That's a bit less than five hundred years worth of pictures. (I divided by 300 as I couldn't work out 150,000 divided by 365 in my head). Okay so maybe some of those websites probably didn't have the sort of pictures Dan would want to look at, but I figured there was enough there to keep him looking for a long time.

I skipped back to the picture of the red-head. She looked back at me with that half-smile. I wondered what she saw as she looked out of the screen... 

Dan looked at you. What did he think? Did he like looking at you? Did he think you looked... sexy? Did he like looking at you as much as he liked looking at those other girls — the ones with the bigger boobs?

She wasn't talking to me. She just looked back at me with those sparkling green eyes. Maybe her answer was in the sparkle of her eyes.

I clicked on the back arrow to see who else Dan had looked at. Maybe someone else would talk to me. The previous girl had dark coffee-colored skin. Again she looked about nineteen or so. Her black hair curled tightly against her scalp... and lower down. She leant against a tree in the backyard of some house. One hand rested against the tree, the other propped on her hip. She hardly had any boobs at all. They were just like little ping-pong balls. Her body was thin and toned. She obviously exercised a lot. Her head was turned, looking off to the side. There was a distant, thoughtful expression on her face. She obviously wasn't going to talk to me if she wouldn't even look at me.

I clicked on the back arrow again. This girl lay on a bed with her back and head propped up on pillows. A logo in the corner told me her name was Cindi, as well as the name of the website she was from. Cindi had long mousy-brown hair, held back with a white and pink hair band. Her skin was lightly tanned, except for white patches where a bikini would cover. One leg was out straight and the other bent at the knee. She looked straight into the camera with a laugh on her face. Cindi looked a lot younger. Close to my age. Maybe twelve or thirteen? I let go of the mouse and sat back. I was surprised. I didn't think they were allowed to show pictures of naked girls who were my age. Then I snorted to myself. This was the internet. What they were allowed to do and what they did weren't always the same thing.

Dan had looked at Cindi. What did that mean? I didn't think Dan was interested in girls my age. Not interested in that way I mean. I had no way of knowing how long he looked. He might have just loaded it, seen what she looked like and then immediately moved on to the next picture because it wasn't what he wanted. Or he might have stared and stared at Cindi's bee-sting boobs, trying to decide if he liked looking at them or not. I had no way of knowing. Regardless of all that, in the end he had moved on. The only thing I did know for a fact was that Dan had ended up looking at that red-head.

Cindi looked thin. I could see her ribs clearly under her skin. She had this happy smile on her face, but something about her eyes troubled me.

"What is it, Cindi? Are you really happy, or are you just pretending?"

"Sure I'm happy. Look at me! See me smile and laugh! Look how relaxed I am. Of course I'm happy."

"But how can you do that? How can you take your clothes off and lie there in front of the camera? I couldn't do that!"

"Of course you could! Take a look around your bedroom! You took off your clothes and posed for some of those pictures. What I'm doing is no different."

"Yes it is. My pictures are just for me. They only exist in my bedroom. Your pictures are on the internet. Everyone can look at you. Our bodies are supposed to be private things. Now everyone can see yours. Everyone in the world can look at your private parts. They can see your boobs. They can even sort of see a bit between your legs. Isn't that a bit creepy? All those people looking at you."

"But I'm proud of the way I look. Those people on the internet can't hurt me. All they can do is look. I like it when they look like that. You're looking at me now. How is that hurting me?"

"But I'm just looking. What about the men?"

"Men? You mean like Dan?"

"Dan wouldn't..."

"You don't know that. Dan saw me. You don't know what he was thinking."

I don't mean like Dan. I mean like the weirdos who want to... touch you and... do stuff to you."

"Well they can't. All they can do is look. If they reach out for me, all they can touch is the glass screen."

"I couldn't do what you do! I couldn't let them look at me like that. It's horrible to even think about it."

Cindi laughed at me. I glared at her, furious that she would laugh at me like that. Okay, I kind of knew it was just a corner of my own brain that was putting words into Cindi's mouth and so it was really me laughing at me, but I sat there, feeling furious anyway.

"Bec, you're no different from me. We even look pretty much alike, except my hair is a lighter brown. You could do this if you wanted to. It's easy. It's simple. Try it! See how much fun I'm having? You'll have fun too."

I stood up and backed away from her. Her eyes followed me, laughing, laughing. My knee hit the side of Dan's bed and I had to slap my hand over my mouth to muffle an "Ow!" I looked down at Dan, sleeping in his bed, and knew what I needed to do.

I ducked around to the other side of Dan's bed so he was between me and Cindi. She watched me move, laughing, laughing.

I hung my robe on the door of Dan's closet and kicked off my fluffy slippers. Moving carefully and quietly I lifted the blankets and slid into bed behind Dan.

Just as I lifted my foot off the floor, I felt my toes brush something. Lying in the bed, I leant back down and felt around with my hand. I found some scrunched up tissue paper. Dan had obviously blown his nose and tried to drop it in his waste-paper basket, but missed. I felt around with my hand until I found the basket and dropped the tissue in.

I rolled back over and scrunched up so I was lying just behind Dan, peeping over his shoulder at Cindi. She was still watching me, still with that laugh on her face.

"You can't hide behind Dan forever."

I glared back at her. Just because she's probably right, didn't mean she was allowed to say that. We only just met! We're not even friends.

"You're just like me! Accept it. Embrace it."

"No!" I whispered back at her. "No! No! No!"

I wrapped my arm around Dan's big chest and pulled myself in so I was snuggled against his broad naked back. I tucked my head down onto the pillow, but even there I could still see Cindi watching me through the gap between Dan's shoulder and his head. She watched me, that laugh still on her face, but she was silent now. She just watched me with her bright green eyes.

All I could do was lie there and stare at Cindi. I was entranced by her easy, relaxed posture, her casual nakedness, her youthful beauty.

I wasn't at all like her.

Was I?

Her photo wouldn't look out of place on my bedroom wall.

That was a scary thought.

We watched each other in silence.

After some time, the screen went dark.

Cindi went to sleep.

So did I.



-------

Chapter 20: Early Friday Morning



I kind of half-woke when Dan rolled over. I kept myself back out of his way as he wriggled and turned. I waited until he finally settled, lying on his back. Then I wrapped my arm back around him and moved my head so it was resting on his chest. I snuggled back in close beside him and sighed contentedly. Half asleep, I vaguely thought that now I understood why Dan wore so little clothing to bed. He was putting off heat like a furnace. It was like sleeping with a large man-shaped hot-water bottle — but much nicer.

In the thick, warm, fuzzy place that was my half asleep brain, I became aware that a gentle hand was stroking my hair. Long smooth strokes that started at the top of my head and went down around the back of my head, then down my spine. It felt really nice. All my brain could manage to say was, "Mmmmm!"

"Hey little one," Dan whispered in the darkness. "Watcha doin?"

"Sleeping!" My voice sounded small and soft.

There was a pause, then another whisper. "Why aren't you in your bed?"

"Here is better."

Another pause, "Why is my bed better than yours?"

"I don't know. Because you're here? I couldn't sleep. Not in my bed anyway."

"Ahh!" The gentle hand was now moving slowly up and down my upper arm and shoulder. It made me feel so safe, so loved, so comfortable. I still hovered in that half-asleep place where everything happens through a thick, warm fog. The conversation, having to make its way through the fog, seemed to happen in slow motion.

"I guess I shouldn't be too surprised."

"Why?"

"You were very clingy all evening."

"Huh?"

"All evening you were either sitting on my lap, or holding onto me. Anytime we were separated for more than a minute or so, you would reach out and touch me, as if you wanted to check I was still there. It seemed like you were checking that I was real — not just some illusion. I don't think you were aware that you were doing it."

"Oh!" I hadn't known I was doing that. "I didn't know!"

"I told Mom about it while you were having your shower. She said you were the same with her this afternoon."

"I was? Oh!" I was starting to get embarrassed. This made me sound so pathetic. I pulled some of my hair around so it covered my face — hiding my shame from the darkness.

"It's okay. You had a pretty upsetting time over the last couple of days. I expect doing something like that is fairly normal. I don't know how you survived school though."

I tried to remember how I'd felt at school. It seemed such a long time ago. "Liz was with me for some of the time. I don't know. I guess I just got through it."

"Then when you saw Danielle's scar on her wrist, you went from a bit clingy to doing a damn good imitation of a barnacle. I was worried how I was going to be able to drive home with you fastened onto me like that."

I smiled into the darkness. A barnacle? I guess so.

"But by the time we got to the car, you were shut down. You just closed off into yourself. No more little touches on my arm. I kind of missed them."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I couldn't explain why I was like that.

I moved my hand onto his stomach, where I found the little line of hairs that marched up the middle to just below his chest. My fingers stirred the hairs around, delighting in the feel of the short hairs against the smoothness of his skin.

"I was a bit worried about you. I'd figured out by then that you needed to be touching me, but you stopped. I couldn't think what to do, so I talked. I figured if you wouldn't hold onto my arm, maybe you'd hold onto my voice." He sighed softly in the darkness. "I hope I did the right thing."

I rolled my face down, until my lips came into contact with his chest. Then I gave him three little kisses on his chest.

"You did," I whispered. "You did the perfect thing. Thank you, Dan. Thank you so much. I didn't know what was going on, but you talking like that was important to me. It helped to be hearing your voice. I love you Dan."

"I love you too, little one."

I lay there, my head on his chest, my hand resting on his stomach. I could feel the gentle rise and fall as he breathed. The fog was gone from my head. My brain skittered back and forth as it tried to deal with what Dan had said.

"I'm sorry I was like that, Dan. I didn't want to be your annoying little sister. I wanted to be like... I just wanted to be an interesting person you could have a nice date with."

He didn't answer.

"Dan? Are you awake?"

"You weren't annoying. Believe me, I would've told you if you'd gotten annoying."

I believed him — mainly because he'd told me exactly that a few times in the past.

"There's something else I'm sorry about too. I'm sorry you didn't get to do sex at the end of it, like you would have if it was a normal date."

He reacted to that. I felt his whole body tense up. His big hands lifted my head up and turned my face towards his. I could just make out his eyes in the darkness.

"Dates don't have to end with sex. Who told you that? Don't let anyone tell you that you have to have sex just because you go on a date. Mostly it's just horny boys who say things like that. Some boys will say anything to get into a girl's pants. Don't believe them for a second."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." I pulled myself free from his grip and hid my face on his chest, holding onto him with both hands. "I'm sorry."

Sometimes I say the stupidest things.

Now Dan was mad at me.

I pulled the blankets over my head so he couldn't see me and cried softly into his chest.

Dan plucked at the blankets, trying to lift them off my head, but I just clung on tighter. He reached under me and grabbed me under the armpits. Then he hauled me up so I slid up his body until my nose was bumping against his. Because I'd been clinging onto the blankets, they slid up with me. Now we were both completely enclosed under the blankets. It was pitch black under there. I couldn't see his eyes, even though they must have been only inches from my own. I felt a firm set of lips press against mine for a moment, and then they were gone. I was so surprised, I forgot to cry. I lowered my head and returned the kiss, then slid my cheek down beside his.

Maybe he wasn't so mad at me after all.

It quickly got very hot under there.

Dan tugged on the blankets until they were down to our shoulders and we could both breathe again. I was lying face down on his chest and stomach, my cheek rested against his and I could feel his breath rushing across my ear. Dan's arms wrapped around my lower back and squeezed me into him. It felt like my whole body was being gently lifted and lowered as he breathed. It was like I was a little baby, being rocked in a cradle.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

I felt a soft kiss on the skin just next to my ear.

"But you do sex with most of the girls you have dates with."

He sighed softly into my ear. "That's different. It's 'cause I play football. I think those girls just like to do it with footballer players."

I remembered Pearl saying that there was a rumor that he was pretty good in bed and figured that might have a lot to do with it too.

"I guess it does happen a lot for me. I try to remember not to expect it to happen every time, but it's hard."

A different way of understanding that last sentence ran through my head and I giggled to myself. Dan reached one hand down under the blankets and gently smacked my bum. "Don't be naughty."

That only made me giggle more.

After a bit, I stopped giggling and sighed as I nestled into Dan. I was lying right on top of the furnace and it was making me feel very warm and toasty all up and down my front.

"Speaking of it being hard, how did your experiment go?"

"What experiment?"

"Tonight you looked at pictures of girls with little boobs."

"How did you... ? Never mind. I really must put a password on my computer."

"The redhead looked really cute. You know? The one with green eyes and freckles?"

Dan didn't say anything. I felt a little nudge against my leg, just above my knee. That was strange. Dan's hands were wrapped around my back.

"Was she sexy enough for you, Dan? Did you like looking at her? She was all naked and touching herself and stuff. Did she make your... oh!"

I'd felt another small movement down against my leg, and I'd suddenly made the connection. Dan's thing was getting hard. Me talking about the redhead was making him get an erection. I could feel my eyes getting big in the darkness. Every piece of my attention was focused on my leg as I felt another small movement. I wished I wasn't wearing my flannel pyjamas — I'd be able to feel it so much better if it was up against my skin. I wished it wasn't so dark — I wanted to see it. I wished it was getting hard for me... 

"Maybe you should get off me."

"No!" I clung to him but he pushed me to one side so my body slid down beside him. I wanted to cry out when the movement took me away from that interesting sensation. I pouted in the darkness, but then I stopped myself from doing that. I just sighed and snuggled into his side again. I'd ended up lying with my head on his pillow. His arm underneath me then wrapped around me, holding me tightly to him."

"I guess that answers my question, anyway."

"Yes," he said softly. "I liked looking at the redhead."

"I liked Cindi."

"Who?"

"Cindi. She was young. She looked a lot like me but with lighter hair. I liked her."

"Oh!" He was quiet for a moment. "You should get some sleep, you have school in the morning — and so do I."

"I love you, Dan."

"I love you too, Bec. Now go to sleep."

There was silence for a while. Then a thought occurred to me.

"Dan?" The only answer I got was his breathing.

Damn. I wanted to ask him about those condom things that went inside a girl's vagina.

I wanted to ask why he wasn't wearing any underwear.

I wanted to ask... 

I think I must have gone to sleep before I got to the end of my list.

-------

It's the nicest thing in the world, to wake up in the morning holding someone and being held. I was toasty-warm and sooo relaxed. I would have loved to just keep lying there for hours. The only problem was a mouthful of hair. That wasn't too hard to deal with. While I was doing that I noticed a little puddle of drool on Dan's arm, just where my head was — how embarrassing! I used the edge of the sheet to dry Dan's arm, then snuggled back into the side of his chest.

I couldn't see a clock so I had no idea what time it was. From the light coming through the curtains, I figured it must be nearly time to get up and get ready for school so I wanted to enjoy the relaxed snuggle as long as I could. Dan was obviously still sleeping, he hadn't moved a muscle while I'd been wriggling around. I relaxed into stillness and closed my eyes, trying to reclaim that nice, soft, sleeping place.

I decided I liked Dan's smell. My nose was pressed right up against him and every time I breathed in, the air was scented with his essence. If I could capture that scent and put it in a bottle, I could keep it with me for always! "Essence of Dan!"

I just lay there, suspended in time and space. I don't know how long I lay there — maybe ten minutes or maybe half an hour. All I know is, it felt like the most wonderful place to be. Somewhere in the distance, I could feel the start of a need to use the bathroom soon. I decided to ignore that for as long as I could and just enjoy the moment.

I could hear movement in the house. A fast thudding as Angie raced down the hallway. The kettle whistled in the kitchen. A toilet flushed. I could hear Mom's voice sharp and questioning, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. A rapid knocking on what must have been Tara's door, followed by Mom's voice again.

Dan's alarm sounded and he jerked and mumbled, then reached over the top of me to turn it off. That's why I couldn't see a clock, it was behind me. Dan slumped back onto his back and I moved my head so it was resting once more on his chest. My hand gently exploring the firm contours of his stomach.

There was a sharp rap on Dan's door, then it opened. Mom's head poked through. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me in bed with Dan. She yelled "I found her" down the hallway, then came up to my side of the bed. I didn't move.

I couldn't read Mom's expression. I wasn't sure if she was angry with me or not. I figured that she'd been worried when I wasn't in my room and was relieved when she found me, but something else was wrong and I couldn't sort out what it was.

Not knowing what else to do, I just lay there with my head on Dan's chest and watched her walk up to me. She reached out and pulled the blankets down off my shoulders and then down some more so that my pyjama clad back was exposed to the cold. Then she stopped and pulled the blankets back up, tucking them around my shoulders with a little pat.

Then Mom smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed beside me. She leant over and kissed my cheek, then sat upright again.

"Good morning, Sunshine. Did you sleep well?"

Now she was relaxed and smiling, I couldn't figure out what had changed. A bit of my brain started trying to solve that puzzle while the rest of me talked to Mom.

"Yes, Mom. I had a good sleep. It was really nice. Dan kept me warm and cozy."

Dad appeared in the doorway, holding Angie in his arms.

Mom chuckled at me, "Didn't you know? You're not supposed to go to bed with a guy after your first date. It's a rule."

"Oh!" I was pretty sure I knew what Mom was talking about. I didn't know it was a rule though. I wondered if maybe some of Dan's girlfriends didn't know about that rule. "Sorry Mom! I'll try to remember that next time."

Dad came over to us and kissed Mom. "I have to go to work now. I'll see you all this evening. Bec, there's a note for you to take with you on the table. Don't forget it."

Angie wriggled out of Dad's arms and started demanding hugs and kisses from Mom. Dad left the room and Angie crawled over to kiss me and then Dan. When she went to kiss Dan, Angie crawled right over the top of me. She clambered right up Dan's chest and laid a sloppy kiss right on his mouth. Finally satisfied, she clambered off the bed and ran out of the room.

In all this time, I hadn't moved a muscle. I was just way too comfortable. Dan was stroking my hair, pushing it back into place. It was probably all messy. I was echoing Dan's hand movements. Every time his hand slid down the side of my head, I was gliding my hand across his stomach.

The bit of my brain that had been trying to figure out Mom's strange moods had come up with a possible solution.

"Mom? When you came in the room, did you think Dan and I had been doing sex? Is that why you were angry?"

Dan's hand stopped where it was. So did mine.

Mom sighed and then answered softly. "I suppose that thought crossed my mind."

Now I moved. I rolled over onto my back so I was lying next to Dan, looking straight up at Mom.

"We didn't do that, Mom." I said earnestly. "We're not going to do that."

Tara appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorpost. Her hair was all over the place and her eyes were all puffy from just waking up.

"Go and wash your face, Tara, and brush your hair. Then get some breakfast into you. I want to talk to these two for a moment."

Tara disappeared and Mom turned back to us. Her face was troubled. She wanted to talk to us, but I don't think she knew what to say.

"It's okay, Mom. I think I understand."

Mom smiled and ran her hand down the side of my face. Then she stood and walked towards the door.

I frowned at her back, thinking something important needed to be said and she was walking away instead.

"Mom?"

She stopped and turned back to me. "What is it, sweetie?"

"I wouldn't mind it if Dan and I... "

I was amazed at how embarrassing that was to say in front of both Dan and Mom. Dan knew how I felt about him, and I was pretty sure Mom knew how I felt as well, but still... 

"... but Dan is never going to do that, so I guess I just have to accept it. Dan is the stubbornest person in the world."

Mom sat herself down on Dan's computer chair. She was obviously trying to be careful about what she said.

"He is stubborn, sweetie, but there are three people in the world who can get Dan to do pretty much anything they want him to — and you're one of them."

"I wish that was true, Mom, but it's not. Well, not totally true anyway."

I wondered what Dan was thinking about us talking about him like this, with him right there, but he was just lying there listening.

I ducked my head, "Maybe I could get Dan to do something like that, but afterwards he would feel so bad about it. He might even end up hating..." That was a sentence I couldn't finish. I couldn't even finish the thought.

"I'm not going to make Dan do something like that, Mom."

Dan's hand found mine and I felt a brief squeeze.

Mom sighed again, "I'm glad to hear that, Bec. I'm very glad to hear that."

Figuring that conversation was over, I threw back the blankets and swung myself out of bed. It was obviously past time I was up and getting ready for school.

I heard Mom give a little gasp, and swung back in time to see Dan covering himself up with the blankets.

"Dan? Why were you completely naked, while you were lying in bed with your little sister?" Mom asked curiously.

"Well," Dan hesitated and blushed. "I wasn't expecting company and I was..."

A little bit of my brain suddenly pulled three different facts out of three different files to make a startling new fact. Dan had been looking at naked pictures. He had taken his boxers off near the computer and then gone to sleep naked.

My mouth dropped open. I just had to ask. "Dan, did you... ?"

We both blushed. I don't know why I went from having a straight up discussion with Mom about sex, to blushing at the idea that Dan had been touching himself last night, but that's what happened. Then I remembered the musky smell last night and the tissues on the floor and I realized that Dan had made himself squirt his stuff and cleaned it up with tissues.

Sometimes I'm so stupid. I'd had all the facts last night, but I hadn't put them together.

"Yes, I did. And then I went to sleep. And when I woke up in the middle of the night, I had Barnacle Bec clinging to me. She was hanging on so tight that I couldn't get up and put some clean boxers on."

Mom and I had talked about masturbation. One part of my brain had known that Dan did it. It had known that was why Dan looked at the pictures of naked girls. That bit of my brain just hadn't spoken up last night when I was seeing all the evidence. I think Mom was expecting me to be embarrassed right then because Dan was admitting that he did it last night. I was more embarrassed because I was so stupid that I hadn't worked it out for myself.

Mom shifted in the computer chair, and in doing so must have knocked the keyboard, because a moment later Cindi woke up and looked at me from the screen with that same laugh on her face. She was still stretched out naked on her bed, just the same as she had been last night. I felt sorry for her lying there, frozen in time, trapped in the middle of that laugh. I hoped it wasn't cold where she was, lying there like that without any clothes on.

"Bec, I think it's time we left your brother alone so that he can get out of bed and get dressed."

Mom swivelled on the chair and stood. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of Cindi and gasped, pushing back so suddenly the computer chair tipped over and fell to the floor.

Mom's horrified gaze went from Cindi, to Dan, to me, then back to Cindi. Then the horror on her face changed to anger. She marched across the room and slammed the door shut, then turned to face Dan.

"How dare you?" She hissed. Her voice obviously kept low so the rest of the house wouldn't hear. "How dare you look at pictures like that?"

Mom advanced towards the bed and Dan quickly slid out of it on the other side from her and stood up. He looked uncertain and embarrassed as he stood there, made worse by the fact that he was completely naked.

"Do you know what it's like for those girls? Do you? It's bad enough that you've been looking at the normal porn — I've been ignoring that — but this? Do you think a girl that age wants her photo on the internet? A lot of those underage girls are abused over and over. Some are kidnapped and held captive. Some are sold off by their families. They get raped and pimped out to whoever wants them. They get beaten and starved — trained to do what they're told. It's vile. When you look at those pictures, you join in that abuse."

Mom was standing on one side of the bed, hissing rather than yelling, waving her arms at the picture and emphasising her points with gestures at Dan. Dan just stood there on the other side of the bed and took it. He looked confused and ashamed.

I'd taken a moment to work out why Mom was angry. It was confusing to match up what I'd thought about Cindi with what Mom was saying. I looked at the picture again, trying to see signs that Cindi was treated like that, but she just lay there on her bed and laughed.

Then I realized Mom was being angry at the wrong person. I was the one who'd been looking at the picture of Cindi, not Dan.

"Mom!"

Mom hardly paused in her tirade. "That girl is someone's daughter. She's someone's little sister."

She stormed over to me and grabbed me by the back of my pyjama top. I could see her trembling with anger as she shook me a bit and turned me to face Dan. She wasn't being really violent, but she was rough enough that the buttons down the front of my pyjama top popped off and flew across the room.

"Mom!"

"How would you feel if it was one of your sisters? Huh? How would you feel? Do you want me to sell Bec off to the highest bidder? Do you want me to put photos of her naked body on the web?"

Every question she asked, she was clenching the handful of pyjama top in her hand. Each time she did that, my top was gaping more and more open at the front, exposing my naked chest to Dan. Then it suddenly slipped further and my arms were trapped behind me by the shoulders of the top. My chest was now completely naked.

"Mom!" Both Dan and I were now trying to interrupt Mom's rant, but she wasn't listening.

"Or maybe you'd rather just skip the computer and go straight to the source. We have two teen girls in the house for you to stare at. Is that what you want?"

"MOM!!" I tore my arms loose from the sleeves, leaving Mom with my pyjama top hanging from her hand. I spun and screamed into her face. "STOP IT! MOM! STOP IT!"

I think that surprised her. She blinked at me a couple of times, seemed to notice my bare chest, then looked down at the pyjama top hanging from her hand.

It took all the courage I had to stand there and say what I had to say. I just knew it meant she would stop yelling at Dan and start yelling at me.

"Mom! It wasn't Dan looking at that picture. It was me!"

Mom looked at me with a puzzled expression on her face. I could almost see the effect of my words working their way through her brain as her expression changed from puzzled to confused to surprised.

"What?"

"It was me! I was looking at that picture."

"But..."

"Tara and I told Dan off last night for only paying attention to girls with big... breasts. After we left, Dan did a search for girls with small... Anyway, when I came into the room I looked at the picture he'd been looking at and then went through some of the others. I found the picture of Cindi. She seemed... I can't explain it, but I felt a connection... She's..."

I gestured at the computer screen. Cindi lay there and looked at me, her mouth open — maybe she wasn't laughing so much as waiting to hear what I said.

"... she's just like me!" I whispered

Mom just kept looking at me. She seemed to be trying to work out what to say. In the end, I think she just gave up. She said nothing. She turned and went for the door. At the door, Mom turned back to us, "Don't ever speak to your father about this. He must never see that picture."

Then she left, closing the door behind her. It was only after she left that I remembered she still had my pyjama top in her hand. I stood there feeling awkward. Mom's rant had made me think about things I hadn't thought about before. I was thinking things about Cindi, and about me, and about Dan.

Dan was still standing over on the other side of the bed. I don't think he knew what to say. I didn't know what to say. I was standing half-naked in front of Dan. I tipped my head forward and let my hair hide my face, but I made no effort to cover my chest.

"Dan?" I asked the floor. "Was Mom right? Do you want to look... ?"

Dan was still standing on the other side of the bed. I think he was in shock. It isn't fun having Mom scream at you. It's probably less fun if you're naked.

I can't explain what was happening in my brain. I should have been embarrassed. I should have been mortified. I should have grabbed something to cover myself up with. I should have run out of the room.

Instead I just stood there. Letting Dan look.

Then something made my hands move. It wasn't me. I didn't really want them to do this, they did it on their own. They went to my hips and pushed down on the waist of my pyjamas. The elastic waistband stretched out over my hips and then went loose as it slid down my thighs. The pants just fell to the floor — dropping to pool around my ankles. Because I was looking down, I could see my panties lying down around my ankles as well. They had fallen down with my pants.

I was completely naked.

I was completely naked in front of Dan.

Someone's voice whispered into the room, "If you really want to look, I don't mind!"

I stared at the floor, hair covering my face, hands by my sides.

Goose-bumps covered my skin.

My muscles trembled.

My hands, hanging loosely by my sides, shivered.

My eyes scanned across the top of the bed and found the Dan's knees. They tracked up the muscles of his thighs and fastened on his dick, hanging all scrunched up and small between his legs.

Something wasn't right.

Wasn't it supposed to get big and hard when he looked at a pretty girl?

Well he was looking at me and it wasn't.

If anything it was getting smaller.

There was only one possible conclusion to draw from that!

Someone wailed in despair.

All those words were lies.

Mom's paintings were lies.

Dan's body had just shown me the truth.

I was ugly.

Dan hated me.

Someone was still wailing.

The strength in my legs disappeared and they crumpled underneath me.

The floor came up and smacked me in the face.



-------

Chapter 21 : Friday Morning



I was sitting on a chair. My pyjama pants were firmly on. There was a bathrobe wrapped tightly around me but my arms weren't through the sleeves, so I was completely wrapped inside the robe. My body was trembling like it was the aftermath of some distant earthquake.

A face swam into view. It was a face I didn't want to see, so I swung away from it. The chair swung under me and I spun.

I stopped spinning and there was my friend Cindi. She lay on her bed and looked at me with her big, sad eyes. She seemed happy to see me. I wondered how she could seem so casual about lying there with no clothes on. For me, being naked left me shaking and frightened.

"I'm sorry!" I whispered to her.

"What are you sorry for?" She asked, but her voice was strange. It was deep somehow. It sounded almost like a man's voice.

"I didn't know they made you do that. I didn't know you were a prisoner."

There was silence for a moment. "Who are you talking to?"

"You!" I reached out to touch her, but a glass wall got in the way. Maybe that's why her voice sounded funny.

"I'd rescue you if I could, but I don't know how to get to you."

"Bec?" She sounded confused. She lay there, with her mouth open like she didn't know what to say. She just lay there, looking at me.

"Then maybe you could be my friend. I would like that."

"Bec! Listen to me! You have to stop this."

"I'm listening, Cindi." I leaned forwards and put my forehead against the glass wall. "I'm listening, Cindi. What do I have to stop?"

There was silence for a moment. Then I figured she might want me to stop talking to her. I couldn't let her tell me that. She was about to say something but I got in first.

"Maybe we could run away together."

Whatever she'd been about to say disappeared into the silence.

"We could find somewhere to live. We could look after each other."

"Bec, why do you want to run away?"

"I can't stay here. He hates me." I felt a single tear trickle down my left cheek.

"What?"

"He hates me. He thinks I'm ugly."

"What?"

Something moved the chair I was sitting in. Tried to turn it. Tried to take me away from Cindi. I grabbed whatever was in front of me and held on tight. "Nooo!!"

I screamed and fought. Holding on tight. "Noooo!!"

Then it all stopped. As suddenly as it started, it all stopped. I was left alone. I had my face pressed to the glass and I cried for Cindi. She lay on the bed and said "Shhhhh."

I guess I shhhhed.

"What's happening?" Cindi asked. But her voice had changed. Now it wasn't so deep. It was more like a girl's voice, but older, more like a woman's voice.

"They tried to take me away from you."

There was some quiet noise going on. It sounded like "Psspssswhspsssh." It was almost like two people were whispering, but that didn't make sense because there was only Cindi and me, and Cindi wasn't saying anything. She just lay there with her mouth open, gasping for breath. I could hear her rough breathing through the glass.

"They tried to take me away from you, but I wouldn't let them."

"Bec, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you. But your voice is different through the glass. You sound like... you sound like my mom."

"I should hope so." That was a weird thing for her to say. It didn't make much sense at all.

Cindi lay there on her bed, her mouth wide open in fear.

"Don't be afraid, Cindi. I'm right here. I'll come for you. Then we can go away together."

"Why do you want to go away?"

"I told you. I can't stay here. He thinks I'm ugly. He hates me. I can't stay here."

"Who thinks you're ugly?"

I closed my eyes and pressed my face to the glass. I couldn't say his name.

"Why do you think he hates you?"

"Because I... I tried to be like you. You're so brave. I took off... I took off my clothes and I let him..."

"You let him touch you?" Cindi's voice had gone all hard and cold.

"No!" I gasped. I was shocked at what she was thinking. "I let him look though... I let him look at me."

I had my arms clutched tight around my stomach. I was rocking back and forth in the chair. I really, really didn't want to talk about this, but Cindi was making me say it.

"Bec, I..." Her deep voice was back again, but what she was saying cut off suddenly.

Next time she spoke, she was back to her woman's voice. That was really confusing. I couldn't work out why that happened.

"And what made you think he didn't like what he saw?"

Did she really need me to say this? I wasn't sure if I could. I forced my voice out, but it came out so quiet — barely a whisper.

"I could see his... thing."

"His penis?"

"Yes... and it should have been... if he thought I was pretty... if he liked looking at me... it should have gone all..."

"He was looking at you, and he didn't get an erection. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes!" It was more like breathing out than a word.

"Oh, sweetie!"

Something touched the side of my face. It came out of nowhere. I was so surprised I jerked away from it and hit my nose on the glass. It hurt. "Ow!"

It was like a switch had been flipped. Suddenly things that had been confusing made sense. Suddenly things that had been making perfect sense seemed... crazy.

I sat in Dan's computer chair with my arms wrapped around myself, squeezing tight. I couldn't look at the computer screen with the picture of Cindi. I couldn't look at Mom. I definitely couldn't look at Dan. I just tipped my head forward so my hair covered my face and closed my eyes.

Oh God! What's happening to me?

"Psspssswhspsssh." Dan and Mom were whispering to each other again. I didn't care. Some things hadn't changed. The things I'd been saying to Cindi were still true. Even if I had been saying them to a picture. Stupid brain!!

"Sweetie, a boy doesn't always get an erection when they see..." Mom had gone into lecture mode, but she sounded uncertain for some reason.

"If they're feeling scared, or confused, or embarrassed or even just really cold then sometimes it just doesn't... perform. So for example, if his mother had just been in his room yelling at him for looking at dirty pictures..."

Okay, so that caused a completely different switch to flip. My brain wasn't completely incapable of thinking. Once she had said that much then I could work out the rest.

Suddenly a whole lot more things made sense. Why hadn't I known that? Why hadn't I figured it out? I felt so completely and utterly stupid. I'd just had a total freak-out and it was all over nothing.

Stupid Bec! Stupid brain! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"If a boy's looking at a naked girl and he doesn't get an erection, that doesn't automatically mean..."

"Mom, you can stop now. I get it."

She stopped. I think she was glad to stop.

I still couldn't look at anyone. I kept my head down. I kept my eyes closed. I was feeling a lot of sympathy for those ostriches that stick their head in the sand so they can't see anything they don't want to see. Right then the list of things I didn't want to see included the whole world.

"So you don't think I'm ugly?"

Since I wasn't looking at either of them, Dan must have figured out for himself that I was talking to him now. "No, I don't think you're ugly. You look amazing. Every day you just get prettier and prettier."

"And you don't hate me?"

"I love you. I've never stopped loving you. I've loved you ever since you were born. I've loved you ever since the first time Mom let me hold you, that day in the hospital."

I nodded under my curtain of hair. I flashed to the day Angie was born and Mom put her into my arms. I could relate to what he was saying.

"I'm feeling really stupid right now."

"You don't need to feel stupid." That was Mom. "You were just a bit confused for a time, that's all."

I felt her hand stroking down my back. I was pretty sure it was Mom's hand.

"I think I was a lot confused. I thought I was talking to Cindi, but it was you all the time, wasn't it?"

That time I was meaning both of them.

I figured I was being a bit vague in who I was talking to. I wondered why, but then I worked it out. You is a second person pronoun. It's both singular and plural. Sometimes it isn't clear from what you're saying as to whether you mean singular or plural. Some people here in my adopted country got it right when they invented that new word, yall. I don't know how it should be written, maybe with an apostrophe. There are people here in America who say things like Y'all should listen up now. It might be bad English, but it's a lot less confusing.

It's weird what people think about when they're sitting on a chair after stripping themselves naked in front of their brother, having a complete freak-out and then having a total brain-spaz that made talking to a computer screen seem normal. Me, I ended up thinking about second person pronouns. I wondered if there was a club of people who'd had the same experience. We could get together and discuss who thought about the weirdest thing. I wondered if I'd win the prize.

"Don't worry about that now. It happened and now it's over."

The chair under me was turned so I was facing out into the room. I still had my head tipped right forward. I wasn't ready to look at anyone. I reached up inside the robe and held the edges together. I didn't want it falling open and exposing my naked chest to Dan and Mom. I figured I'd had enough of being naked for this lifetime — and maybe the next one as well.

I stood up out of the chair, hoping to escape from the room, and found myself enclosed in two sets of arms. I sighed and stood there, letting myself be hugged. The tighter they hugged me, the better I felt. I was the meat in a Bec sandwich and I guess it was not such a bad place to be.

"Mom, I think I need to see a doctor. I don't think my brain is working right."

"Okay sweetie. I'll try and get an appointment with Dr Koehler. She's been my doctor since we moved out here. She's a neurologist. That means she specializes in brains that don't work right."

For some reason, the way she said that made me giggle.

"We might have to wait a bit before you can see her though. She sees a lot of other people with brains that don't work right."

I had a mental image of a woman in a lab coat with lots of mutated brains lined up on a bench in front of her and started giggling uncontrollably.

Fingers started tickling me down my sides and in my armpits and everywhere that I was sensitive. Two adults tickling one thirteen year-old is hardly fair — especially since I could hardly protect myself because my arms were trapped inside my robe and my hands were busy holding the robe closed. I wriggled and jerked wildly, trying to get away from those remorseless tickling fingers.

Soon my giggles turned to squeals. Then my squeals turned to shrieks. Then my shrieks turned to frantic calls to let me go, because I had to pee. I broke free and fled out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom, my hand pressed frantically between my legs.

-------

I sat on the toilet and looked miserably at my drenched panties, now lying loosely around my ankles. I hadn't made it to the bathroom in time. Damn it! Is there anything less dignified for someone who's practically a teenager than to wet her pants like a little girl? What else can go wrong today? I haven't even made it to breakfast yet.

I kicked my pyjama pants and panties off my ankles in frustration and let them fall in the middle of the bathroom floor. There was a big wet patch around the crotch of the pyjama pants too. I frantically prayed that Mom and Dan hadn't seen that. If they had, my humiliation would be complete.

If they hadn't seen anything, maybe, just maybe, I could pretend it never happened. I was wearing the bath robe. Maybe that covered up my shameful secret? I groaned in dismay. Just the thought of them seeing me wet my pants made me want to lock the door of the bathroom and hide in here until they went away. Like that would ever happen. They would just set up camp outside the door.

I would just have to stay in here until they died of old age or something.

I looked towards the door and froze in terror. The door was open. In my frantic rush, I'd pushed it closed behind me, but it had obviously bounced back open instead of shutting properly.

I was sitting on the toilet, practically naked, peeing, with the door open. And Angie was standing in the doorway, staring at me curiously. Oh God!!

Part of my brain was saying it could have been worse. It could have been Mom, or Tara, or even... Dan!

I stared at Angie, trying to figure out how to get her to leave and close the door. Nothing I could say was going to get her to do that. She stared at me with her endless fascination about people using toilets. What is it with three year-olds and toilets?

I was finished with peeing, but I was feeling weird about cleaning myself in front of Angie. I just leant forward and put my head on my knees. I shut my eyes and hoped the world would go away.

I could hear Dan's voice talking to Mom, down the hallway in his room. They were talking quietly, but in the silence of the house, their words carried clearly down the hallway.

"Well! That was a bit scary!"

"Yes it was! Fortunately she came out of it fairly quickly."

"Is it finished? Or is that going to keep happening?

"I don't know, hun. I hope not. The sooner we get her in to see Doctor Koehler, the better. I doubt if I'll get an appointment for today. I'll keep her at home today and try for early next week."

"Tickling as therapy — was that something your doctor taught you?"

"No, I made that up on the spot. It seemed like the right thing to do."

"It certainly got her out of her funk pretty quickly. Maybe we should try that on you next time you go psycho on us."

"No thanks. I'm too old to be tickled so hard I pee my pants. Speaking of which, we can't ever let her know that we saw she'd wet herself."

Damn! I groaned silently to myself. Sometimes being sneaky and listening to conversations backfires. Now I knew they knew. That made it harder to pretend nothing happened. Locking myself in the bathroom and staying in here until I'm seventy just became a good option.

I could hear Dan sigh, "Yeah, she would hate for us to know that — especially me — especially now."

"I'm still trusting you to do the right thing, Dan. That little girl needs a big brother right now a whole lot more than she needs an illicit boyfriend."

"I know that, Mom. You don't have to worry, I swear it. But, damn it Mom, she jumps back and forth between being a little girl and a woman so fast it makes my head spin."

"If it gets too difficult to keep her off you while you're living here, then maybe it would be better if you moved out. We'll get you an apartment out near the college. Your dad and I will find the money somehow."

The world stopped.

Time froze.

I stopped.

They were going to send Dan away.

Because of me!

Because I got stupid and took my clothes off in front of Dan.

Why did I do that?

Of all the questions in my head, that was the one I had the least idea how to answer.

-------

My shoulder was being patted by a very tiny hand. Somehow I remembered how to breathe. My heart re-started itself with a huge thump. I rolled my head to the side, opened one eye and peeked. Angie was standing right beside me with a little frown on her face.

"Wanna go potty," she whispered.

Twenty different possible replies raced through my head. Most of them were variations on the "go away" theme. In the end I just said, "Good girl."

I quickly patted myself dry with toilet paper, and then streaked across the bathroom to close and lock the door. I did it quietly because I could hear Dan and Mom walking up the hallway. They were still talking, but I didn't listen to what they were saying. I went back and put the little potty seat over the toilet and help Angie out of her clothes and up onto the seat.

Doing all that made me laugh. A moment ago I'd nearly freaked because Angie was watching me sitting on the toilet. In the past I'd changed her diapers, cleaned her, bathed her and even bathed with her. In fact now I think about it, I'd even used the toilet myself with her in the room before. It was just me being stupid that made me freak about it this time.

Speaking of bathing, I was still feeling all gross from my little "accident" so a shower was definitely next item on my "to do" list. All the time I was thinking that, part of my brain was taking me through the process of helping Angie, telling her how clever she was, cleaning her up and so on.

"Now I'm going to send you back to Mom, okay Angie? I want to have a shower."

"Me too. I wanna shower too. I wanna shower with you."

"You can't go in the shower with me, Angie. You're too little."

She pouted and started to snivel.

I watched her for a second, then I sighed. "Okay then, how about we have a really quick bath together. Would you like that?"

"Yay!" Sunshine smiles replaced grey snivels in two seconds flat.

I went to the door and opened it just far enough to stick my head out.

"Mom?" I yelled. "Mom?"

"What is it, Bec?" she called back from near the kitchen somewhere.

"I have Angie with me. We're going to have a quick bath. Okay?"

"Sure, honey. If that's what you want to do."

I closed the door and locked it again. As I did I noticed the lock and remembered that it was one of those special ones that could be opened from the other side in two seconds flat using a screwdriver or just about any key. The Parents were superstitious about someone in the bathroom falling and getting hurt and no one being able to help because the door was locked. Superstitious might not be the right word — I can't think of the right word just now — something to do with them being more frightened of it happening than they need to be. Anyway, my point is that my plan of locking myself in the bathroom forever was never going to work because they could unlock the door from the other side.

I started the water running in the bath and poured in a little of the child-friendly bubble-bath mixture. While we waited for the bath to fill, Angie talked about the patterns in the bathroom tiles as she ran her fingers along the grooves between the tiles. I picked up my wet pyjama bottoms and panties off the floor and hesitated about dropping them in the laundry basket. Even though everything in there was going to be washed, it seemed a bit gross to drop the wet and stinky things on top of them. In the end I rinsed them out in the bathroom sink and squeezed them dry, then I draped them over the edge of the laundry basket so they could dry off a bit before they went on top of the other clothes.

Soon I was sitting in the bath, surrounded by bubbles, with Angie seated between my knees. She was giggling and blowing bubbles and having a grand old time. I couldn't help smiling as I carefully used a washcloth to clean her. The body-wash we use for Angie smells really nice and I lost myself in the smells and sounds and sights and feelings of bathing my little sister. I had her stand up so I could wash her legs, then spin around and sit again so I could wash her back. I was having such a good time that I decided to extend it by washing her hair as well. She held her nose and dunked her head under water. Then I gently massaged shampoo all around her skull. I had my eyes closed as I enjoyed the feeling of running my fingers through her wet and soapy hair. All too soon it was time for her to rinse out the shampoo.

She was wriggling around between my legs, getting her head under water to rinse out the shampoo, when Angie's hand came down right between my legs. I jumped at the sudden contact and had to move quickly to grab her hand and shift it away. There was nothing sexy or anything about it. She just caught me by surprise with the sudden contact. I had this weird feeling inside me. It wasn't so much tingles — more a kind of muddled feeling deep inside me as if my body couldn't work out how to react to being touched so innocently in that most private of places.

A bit at the back of my brain made the connection between what was happening here and the way I was with Dan. I wondered if, or maybe how many times, I'd innocently made contact with a private part of him. I wondered if my hugging and holding Dan made him feel that same muddled feeling inside. I wondered if my stupid strip this morning had caused the reaction it had, not so much because he was embarrassed like Mom had said, but because his body was all confused about how it should react.

I didn't have much time to think about all that, because Angie insisted it was her turn to wash me. She stood in the bath between my legs, coated with bubbles, as she wiped the washcloth over my face and neck, then my shoulders and arms, and finally my chest. I'd had to close my eyes and mouth tightly when she washed my face, and I left them closed as I started to enjoy the feeling of being washed.

Angie was starting to get good at washing someone and the feel of the soft washcloth gliding over my skin was fantastic. It brought back distant memories of sitting in the bath and having Mom wash me when I was little. It was different though, because Angie was gentler. With Angie, it felt almost like she was worshipping me. Like I was a princess in some ancient land and she was my adoring body-slave.

I had to hold myself still when Angie washed my chest. My body wanted to flinch away from the contact because my chest was still sensitive. I knew it was coming though and held myself still. It turned out not so bad anyway, because Angie was so gentle. The soft soapy cloth wiping across my nipples did make them go hard and tight though — I guess it's kind of an automatic thing. I still wasn't feeling sexy or anything but the whole business of being washed like this was giving me soft little tingles deep inside the center of my being.

Of course Angie made me stand up so she could wash my legs, just like I'd washed hers. Then I turned and sat so she could wash my back. Naturally Angie had to wash my hair too. I have a lot more hair than Angie and she needed my help to wash it properly and we had to use her shampoo but the feeling of her tiny hands massaging my scalp was incredible... indescribable... indefinable.

It wasn't so much because she was good at massage. It was more because this little girl was washing me with so much... love.

Rinsing my hair turned difficult because for me to lie down and put my head underwater didn't leave much room in the bath for Angie. She ended up sitting on my stomach and laughing hysterically as I rolled around underneath her.

We stood together and let the bath water drain as I used the shower hand-piece to rinse all the bubbles and soap off the two of us. The two of us were giggling throughout that whole process and I had to stop Angie from dancing under the spray for fear she would slip and fall. Finally I lifted Angie out of the bath and wrapped her in a towel.

I got myself mostly dry and wrapped a towel around my hair, managing to sneak in drying myself at the same time as I dried Angie. I went to dress her back in the clothes she'd been wearing and she ducked back out of reach — laughing and calling out. I didn't want to start playing tag in the bathroom because the tiles were wet where we had splashed water out of the bath. Angie made it to the door and opened it, then bolted out into the hallway as naked as the day she was born — and nearly as loud.

I quickly wrapped myself in the bathrobe I'd worn into the room and tied it tightly closed. Then I followed her out into the hallway, only to meet Mom coming the other way with a naked Angie giggling on her hip. They both had big grins on their faces.

"So Bec, I see you've been teaching your little sister some bad habits."

"Huh?"

"Well it seems she's taken to going naked in front of her brother too."

"Mom!!"

Mom was grinning and it was hard not to smile along with her.

"Har har, very funny," I said as sarcastically as I could. Well maybe it was a bit funny, but still... 

Somehow during the bath, I'd decided what I needed to do.

It was a pretty simple plan really.

I was going to make sure Mom didn't need to send Dan away.

"Mom, I'm going to get dressed and brush my hair. Then I'm going to school. Will you please write me a note so I don't get detention for being late?"

"You don't have to go to school, Bec. You can stay home with me and Angie today."

"No, Mom. I'm going to school. Then I'm going to Dan's game this evening. I'm fine. Everything is going to be fine. I'll have missed the school bus, but I can catch the city bus — it has a stop about a block away from school."

"I think you'd be better off staying home."

"No, Mom. I'm going to school." I was being super firm and looking Mom straight in the eye. "I'm fine. I'm going to be fine. I need to go to school though."

I saw Mom's eyes flick sideways and knew that I'd won — well, I'd won this round anyway.

"You're not going anywhere without breakfast. I've cooked you something."

"Okay, Mom, I'll be out in a few minutes."

Dan poked his head around the corner. "Did I hear you say you're going to school?"

"Yeah!"

"Well I'm heading off in about fifteen minutes. If you're ready, I'll give you a lift. I have a lecture at ten and I have to drop off the car before then so I can't hang about if you're not ready."

"Thanks, Dan. That would be good."

I raced into my room and dressed in a hurry. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a windbreaker over the top, because whatever I wore would have to last all day and into the evening. I had my sports bag to take because the school was having a sports afternoon and I threw Dan's old college football jersey into the bag as well. Dan had given it to me at the end of last season and I'd worn it to every game this year. It was miles too big for me — more like a dress than a shirt — but it had Dan's number and "Freeman" on the back, so it was special to me.

I didn't have time to brush my hair properly so I threw my brush into my bag as well, intending to do that later.

I picked up my sports bag and my book bag and hurried to the kitchen for breakfast.

Mom had made me scrambled eggs on toast. The scrambled eggs had pieces of melted cheese and chopped up bell pepper stirred all through it. It was simple and delicious. I thanked Mom and started eating, alternating mouthfuls of egg with sips of juice.

Angie tried to crawl into my lap. She was still stark naked.

"I have a bit of a rebellion on my hands," said Mom. "Angie wants to stay nude all day. I wouldn't mind so much except we have to go shopping for groceries this morning and I'm not taking her to the shops dressed like that."

I grinned at Mom and shrugged. I had no solutions for her. I got a picture in my head of Angie streaking around the supermarket past a bunch of scandalized senior citizens.

I cuddled Angie for a second. She had that beautiful, fresh, just-washed sort of smell and her skin was all soft and pink. I gave her a big, wet smoochie kiss and then tipped her off my lap.

"Mom? You know Nana's locket that she gave you? Can I borrow it? Please? I'd like to wear it today."

"May I borrow it?" Mom's reply was automatic. I don't think she even had to think about it.

I rolled my eyes at her, "May I borrow it? Please? It's important."

She looked at me carefully. "Are you sure you're up for going to school today?"

I nodded and she sighed. "It's in my room, on my dresser."

I gave her a quick hug and kissed her cheek, then raced to her room. The locket was where Mom had said it would be. I carefully hung it around my neck and tucked it under my shirt, against my skin. It was cold at first, but it would soon warm up. I patted the lump of it through my windbreaker and then returned to the kitchen.

Dan was standing there, looking at his watch impatiently.

I picked up my two bags that I'd dropped beside the table and took two notes from Mom. One was her note about me being late and the other was the permission slip from Dad for me to ride on the bus to Dan's game this evening.

Dan had already gone out the door to open up the car and start warming up the engine. I waved goodbye to Mom and squatted down to give Angie one last hug before I raced out the door to jump into the car.

Dan still had the sports car with him of course. After he left me at school, he was going to drop it back at his friend's place and retrieve his own car before heading on to his school.

I settled myself back into the seat as Dan steered us out into the road. I brushed my hair and we made small talk about Dan's game this evening and about my school's sports afternoon. I was being extra careful not to talk about anything that might be difficult. I think Dan was happy to make small talk too.

It was a warm, sunny morning which was a surprise after the cold rain the night before. Everything outside looked fresh and clean. There was hardly even any pollution haze in the sky. It was as if the rain had washed it out of the sky. I don't know if rain does that, but it makes sense that it would. It was nice to see the sky looking clean though. I relaxed and tried to enjoy the sunshine.

Dan pulled the car to the curb in front of school. I leant over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll see you later. Good luck for your game, in case I don't get to speak to you before then."

"Sure. Be good at school. I'll see you later. If you start feeling like you're not coping, just get them to phone Mom. She'll come and collect you anytime you want."

"I know that, but I'll be fine."

I hauled myself and my two bags out of the car and pushed the door closed. With a quick bip of the horn, Dan pulled out into the traffic and drove off.

The steps up to the school were deserted — everyone was already in class.

The steps seemed terribly long and steep, leading up to a gaping door that opened like a huge and hungry mouth waiting to swallow me whole.

Was I fine? Maybe not!

I had to get on with my life. I had to stop obsessing about Dan. I had to learn how to make my brain do what I wanted, instead of letting it do its own crazy things.

Was I fine? Maybe not completely!

I just had to do one step at a time. The first step was to go through that door and do the whole "school" thing.

Was I fine? Maybe not completely, but I was as fine as I was likely to be for a while.

See? I had a plan. It wasn't a complicated plan, but it was definitely a plan.

Was I fine? Absolutely!

So why wasn't I climbing those steps?

I transferred both bags into one hand so I could have one hand free.

That hand then reached up to the center of my chest and clutched at the lump formed by Nana's locket. I could feel the heavy weight of it, lying warm and solid against my skin. Inside it was a tiny picture of Nana and Mom. Mom had drawn it when she was a teenager. She'd drawn it after Nana had gotten her out of the asylum and taken her home. She'd drawn it when she and Nana had decided not to use drugs but to cope with what was happening in her head through sheer willpower. Nana and Mom had won that battle. On their own, they are two scary individuals. Together they must have been completely unstoppable. If they could do it, then so could I. After all, I had both of them with me.

I could do this.

I had Nana and Mom right here with me.

With them right here, warm against my skin, I was unstoppable.

I could do this.

I took a deep breath and started climbing the steps.



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Chapter 22: Friday at School

English class had well and truly started when I knocked on the door. Interrupting Mrs Stone in mid-rant, I handed her my tardy slip and went to my seat. Liz smiled at me from her place but then we both quickly focused on our lesson. Mrs Stone hardly ever spoke to the class like this and I wondered what was going on.

Mrs Stone resumed her rant and at the same time picked a paper off her desk. She was gesturing wildly with her free hand to emphasize whatever point she was trying to make as she walked down the room between the desks. By the time she was standing beside me, I'd figured out what she was talking about.

Apparently, when grading the essays the class had submitted last Friday, Mrs Stone had been appalled and shocked at the apparent inability of everyone in the class to write a complete sentence. It seems that there were far too many sentences written without a verb. Mrs Stone was busy telling us all how incompetent we were — except she didn't actually use that exact word — and how important verbs are. To emphasize her point, she had taken a green highlighter pen and highlighted every sentence on everyone's paper that didn't have a verb. I looked around the room, and from where I was sitting, I could see lots of pages with green on them.

Mrs Stone didn't even glance at me as she dropped the paper on my desk, thus freeing her other hand to point and wave at the rest of the students in the room. I quickly scanned down my essay, looking for sentences marked with green highlighter. There wasn't a single one. I breathed a sigh of relief, but only a short one because there was orange highlighter everywhere. She had picked out every single comma in my essay and covered it with an orange dot. My page looked like it had a bad case of the chickenpox or something. I flipped over the page to the end to read her comment. You use too many commas — A.

I frowned to myself. It was nice that she'd given me an A for my essay, but too many commas? What did that mean? And what did she think about the actual essay? I guess an A means she like it, but what was good about it? What parts could I have made better? I turned the page back to the start of my essay and turned my attention back to Mrs Stone.

Mrs Stone finished her rant and went back to her usual, more relaxed teaching style as she started to review basic sentence structure. It was out of character for her to talk to the class the way she had. She now held everyone's total attention, though, and I wondered if she had done it deliberately for that reason.

I had my head up, looking towards her, listening to what she was saying. I only needed a bit of my brain to listen to her though because I already knew all that stuff. At the same time I was glancing down and reading what I'd written last week, paying special attention to where I'd used commas.

It was an essay about a tree I remembered that was outside our house back in Preston. I had some wonderful memories of that tree and the times I had spent in its branches. It had low wide branches and was really easy to climb — at least a little way. I remember when I was five or six being able to crawl under the branches to the trunk then climb up a little bit. Then I could sit on a branch with my back to the trunk and let my legs swing free. I would be totally enclosed by the green of the leaves. Totally cut off from the world. It was like my own little house that I could retreat to when The Parents were being weird or when I'd fought with Tara or when I just wanted to be alone. Of course, that was in summer. During winter, there weren't any leaves and my little house had no walls, so it wasn't nearly as good.

I spotted one place where I thought maybe the comma wasn't needed and put a circle around it with my pen. By the time I got to the end of the essay, I'd found a total of three commas that didn't seem necessary. Mrs Stone's comment still didn't make sense to me.

Mrs Stone started asking people to read out sentences that she'd highlighted on their page and asking for suggestions about how to fix the sentence. She did it with lots of encouragement and praise when someone said the right thing. I could almost hear the click in people's heads as they understood the lesson and the light bulbs switched on.

I figured that people wouldn't have understood so well if they hadn't been paying attention, and that they wouldn't have been paying attention if Mrs Stone hadn't started the class with her unusual little rant. The whole thing was deliberate. She'd made everyone doubt their ability, then reminded them what to do, then showed them they really could do it the right way.

I looked back down at my essay with its outbreak of chickenpox and wondered if she was doing the same thing to me. Of course she was. A lifetime of being taught "lessons" by The Parents probably made it easier to spot what Mrs Stone was doing. That didn't make it easier to understand her lesson. It just made it easier to spot that she was teaching me one.

I scanned back through my essay. There were certainly lots of commas, but I was fairly sure only three of them were actually wrong. So what was the problem with the rest? The first sentence I'd written was: Back in England, in Preston, where my family used to live before we moved here, there was a big tree outside of our house, which had lots of really low branches and was easy to climb, even for a five year-old. It was a long sentence and I was pretty sure all the commas were important. So what was wrong with the sentence? Think, Bec, think!

"Is everything all right, Rebecca?"

Mrs Stone's voice was low, and came from right beside me. My eyes popped open in fright, and I saw that everyone in the class was looking at me. My right hand was clenched around the lump that was Nana's locket and I realized that I'd been rocking back and forth in my seat.

"I'm sorry!" My voice came out in a whisper. Why did everyone have to stare at me like that? "I was trying to figure something out."

Mrs Stone raised an eyebrow as a question, and I used my left hand to point down at my diseased essay.

"You were thinking about your essay and how you could improve it?" She asked in a loud voice, obviously intending everyone in the class to hear.

I nodded and dropped my head. I hated being the center of attention like this. I clutched Nana's locket tighter and wished I could crawl inside it. I stared down at my pock-marked essay, totally conscious of Mrs Stone standing right beside me and feeling the stares of everyone in the class beating on my unprotected shoulders.

Mrs Stone walked away from me. "An activity many others in this class would benefit from indulging in. Hannah Fargo, you have now had a very long time to think about my question. Do you have an answer ready to share with us?"

Mrs Stone walking away from me and resuming the lesson seemed to take the pressure off me to the point where I could breathe again. The strange way she emphasized her comment to Hannah had caught my attention and I rolled it around inside my brain for a moment.

Then the two things came together with a "ding." My sentence wasn't just long, it was very long. Maybe it was too long. If I broke it up and said the same thing in shorter sentences, then I would use fewer commas. I smiled to myself, pleased that I'd solved Mrs Stone's little puzzle.

About then, Mrs Stone wrapped up her lesson by asking, "So does anyone have any questions about verbs?"

That question was met by the expected silence, but I almost laughed out loud. I had a question. I had a question about verbs. I wondered if I was brave enough to ask it. I decided not, but my body apparently didn't agree because my left hand slowly raised itself until it was level with my ear.

Somehow Mrs Stone noticed the movement. I'd been hoping she wouldn't see my hand since it really wasn't up very high.

"Rebecca Freeman, do you have a question?" I think she was as surprised as I was. She moved down the room towards me as if understanding that she might not hear my voice from all that distance away.

My right hand clutched even more tightly at Nana's locket, and I forced myself to speak.

"What's an intransitive verb?"

Her eyes went kind of wide for a moment. I don't think she expected a question like that. A few people laughed and I wondered why, but she shushed them. She kept walking past me to the back of the room, and started talking.

"An intransitive verb, is a verb that doesn't require an object."

Well I knew that, I just didn't understand it.

"Perhaps we should start with transitive verbs. A transitive verb requires an object. An object is the thing the verb is referring to. For example, in the sentence I read a book. The book is the object that I'm reading, so to read is a transitive verb. An intransitive verb doesn't require an object. To sleep is a good example of an intransitive verb. I should also mention distransitive verbs. They use two objects. For example, I hit the ball with the bat. The verb, to hit needs two objects, what you hit and what you hit it with. Does that answer your question?"

I nodded. It really did. It was kind of like a small victory. I had this huge long list of questions in my head that didn't have answers and I could actually cross one of them off my list. Okay, it wasn't one of the important questions, but at least my list just got shorter by one.

"Melissa DiMartino, do you have a question?"

I blinked in surprise and turned to see Melissa lowering her hand. She'd clearly had it held right up high the way we were supposed to when we had a question.

"Can a verb sometimes be transitive and sometimes be intransitive? For example, you said to read was a transitive verb, but if I say something like I like to read, it has no object. Doesn't that make it intransitive?"

"Now that is an excellent question." Mrs Stone had this broad smile all across her face.

I looked around the room at the rest of the class and realized that this whole discussion was going right over the heads of more than half the people in the room.

I felt really bad that I'd started a discussion that so many of the students didn't understand. It probably wrecked Mrs Stone's plan too. She had them all feeling good because they'd learnt something and then I wrecked it by making her say stuff that just confused them again.

I never got to hear Mrs Stone's answer to Melissa's question either, because the bell rang just then for the end of class. Everyone immediately started moving and Mrs Stone had to raise her voice to speak over the noise.

"Please submit your book reports as you leave the room. Also don't forget that you have a new essay due next Friday. Remember that the topic is to be something related to what Thanksgiving means to you. And this time, everyone, let's try to use verbs properly. Please? Have a good weekend."

Book report? I had a book report due? Shit!! I forgot all about it. I was feeling frustrated and cross with myself as I packed up my books and stood up out of my chair. The pressure on my shoulders seemed to get enormous as I thought about how far behind I was going to be in my schoolwork by the time I got all the scattered pieces of myself back together again.

Suddenly Liz was beside me, her books under one arm, a completed book report in her other hand. She was bubbling with excitement.

"Hey, Bec! How's things? How come you were late? How was your date?"

I grinned to myself. When Liz was in a good mood, she sure did have a motor-mouth. I leaned over so that we could kiss each other's cheek and let her keep going.

"You smell nice. I like your hair like that. Is that a new shampoo? Where's your book report?"

I scowled at that last question. "I didn't do one. My brain's been all scattered this week and I forgot all about it."

She gave a puzzled look. "Yes you did. I saw you. You were working on it the night I came over. I sat in the room while you finished it. Remember? Your mom was painting. You were..." Her eyes skittered to each side of us, making sure there was no one standing near us. Then she leant in and whispered to be doubly sure that no one could overhear us. "You were doing your homework naked, remember?"

My eyes widened as I remembered. She was right. I had done a book report. My brain had once again completely flaked out on me by forgetting all about it. I wondered what I had done with it when I finished it.

Liz must have read my mind, because she immediately pointed at my English book. "I'm sure I saw you put it in the front of that."

I opened up the book and there it was; a finished book report, all neatly typed with my name clearly shown at the top. I felt that enormous weight just lift off my shoulders and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I gave Liz a huge one armed hug and kissed her cheek again. The hug was awkward because both of us were holding our books and they were all caught up between us, but I knew that she knew how much I appreciated her help right then.

The two of us joined the line to the front desk so we could hand in our assignments and leave the classroom.

"Why did people laugh when I asked that thing about verbs?" I whispered to Liz. It had been bugging me that people laughed like that when I asked such a simple question.

"It was your accent. It was really strong. You sounded much more, I don't know, English than you normally do."

Huh? Why? Oh! I was thinking about Nana. I was holding my locket and thinking about Nana. What a weird thing. When I listen to Nana talk for any length of time I always end up sounding a bit more like her. This time, apparently, just thinking about her had made my northern accent come sliding back. Wow!

We were at the end of the line, so by the time we got to the front, the rest of the class had left. Mrs Stone smiled warmly at me as I dropped my book report on the top of the pile.

"You've made two contributions to a class discussion in two days, Rebecca. I'm very impressed. Have a good weekend."

"Thanks Mrs Stone."

I followed Liz towards the door for about three steps, but then I stopped and turned back to Mrs Stone.

"You want me to write shorter sentences. Is that right, Mrs Stone?"

She smiled really widely, "Your sentences are properly constructed, but when every sentence is a long, compound sentence the reader can find it hard to follow what you are trying to say. There is nothing wrong with compound sentences, Rebecca. Just don't overuse them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mrs Stone. I do understand. Thanks." I turned to leave again, and smiled at Liz who had stopped to wait for me. Then I turned back.

"Mrs Stone?"

"Yes, Rebecca?"

"Thank you so much for explaining that. A lot of teachers, when they give me an A, they just write Good Work or something. Most of them don't bother telling me how I could have made it better. I really appreciate you taking the time to help me. I want to be a better writer."

Mrs Stone's smile was now so wide it looked like her face would split open. She nodded to me.

"Have a good weekend, girls. You should get to your next class now."

"Thanks, Mrs Stone," we chorused. "You too!"

[I just read back over what I've been writing. I think I'm better at writing short sentences now. I hope so. Mrs Stone is such a good teacher.]

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Walking to our next class together gave Liz a chance to ask more questions. She even occasionally gave me a chance to answer some of them. Mostly I just promised to tell her more at recess. I didn't really want to share all the details of my private life with anyone who happened to be walking next to us in the hallways.

Mr Palu was absent for Math. The replacement teacher distributed a work sheet for us to complete. I opened my math workbook and found the printout Mr Palu had given me of all the work for these two weeks. I decided it would make more sense to catch up on the work I was behind in so that the work sheet would make more sense. I put my head down and worked hard for the entire period. The math wasn't really that complicated but I had to figure several things out for myself that I hadn't done before. By the end of the class, I had caught up with the class work and only had a bit to do to catch up on the homework as well. That made me feel good.

-------

At recess, Liz and I decided that since it was such a sunny day, we should head outside. When we got out there, we found that the middle of the courtyard was completely flooded. Apparently the stormwater drains were blocked up and hadn't coped with all the rain from the night before. A few students — mostly boys — were running around stomping on puddles right next to people to deliberately splash them. Quite a few people were getting wet legs. Some of them then started splashing through the water, chasing after the kids who'd started it. It was pretty chaotic and we started to regret coming outside. Then Liz pointed out that the basketball court was raised up a level and was completely dry. All we had to do was skirt around the edge of the flooded area and we'd be there. The only problem with that plan was that lots of other people had the same idea. The path around the edge of the flooded section was pretty narrow so a whole bunch of people were crowded closely together.

I guess we must have just made too tempting a target because next thing I knew, I heard a big splash right next to me and I felt cold water splash onto my legs. I squealed and jumped sideways in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet. Unfortunately, I jumped straight into Hannah Fargo. She snarled at me and swore and pushed me hard. Because I'd just jumped I was still a bit off balance, so when she pushed me I almost literally went flying. I flew through the air with all the grace of a whale learning to fly.

Splash!! I landed flat on my back in the middle of the deepest section of water. The water was cold and dirty. It was completely gross. I could hear loud, jeering laughter. It felt like every single student in the school was standing around me, pointing and laughing. I staggered to my feet. The water was more than ankle deep. Then I felt a second push in the middle of my back, even harder than the first. I stumbled and fell forward. I managed to land on my hands and knees, but that didn't really help because my hands and legs caused a splash that went right up into my face and right down my front. I was soaked.

The noise of the crowd seemed to double. Faces jeered and laughed. Fingers pointed. I stood dripping in the middle, my head down. My body trembled. I couldn't tell whether I was shaking because of being wet or cold or angry or upset or whatever. The jeering seemed so loud that I was deafened by it. I could feel the cold in my feet as the water soaked my shoes. My wet clothes were cold and clammy and sticking to my skin. I felt horrible from the wet. I felt horrible from the jeering laughter. I decided right then that this was not one of my finer moments.

There was one part that felt warm. The small hard weight of Nana's locket was hot against my cold skin. I tuned out the insults, turning off my ears so they stopped hearing sounds. I reached up with both hands to press the locket firmly against my skin, driving its warmth into me. The warmth penetrated straight into my heart and I felt this desperate need to stand up straight. I pushed myself up, lifting my head up, straightening my spine. The only noise I could hear was the unnaturally loud beating of my heart. They were still calling out, but my brain wasn't hearing it, leaving me wrapped in silence. My eyes opened and I found myself staring straight into my sister's eyes.

Tara was standing there at the edge of the water, looking at me with the oddest expression on her face. Laura DiMartino had her arm slung over Tara's shoulder. Laura's mouth was opening and closing as she jeered at me, but I couldn't hear a thing she said. I was cocooned in a shell of silence. Then the faces of Laura and the others blurred out of focus. There was only Tara, flanked by faceless, mindless figures jerking and twitching in their own little dance.

Tara and I stared at each other. I could see in her face that she didn't know what to do. Part of her wanted to reach out and help me. She wanted to defend me but didn't know how. Part of her wanted to join in the laughing — I guess I must have looked at least a little bit funny. Part of her wanted to stay in good with her friends — and to do that she would need to join in the jeering.

Tara and I stared at each other, there was no one else. The thudding of my heart was sounding like tribal drums beating out the rhythm of life.

Suddenly I started smiling at her. Out of the drumming of my heart, my brain had flashed on a memory of a play our parents had once taken Tara and me to see. It was the story of Pocahontas. At one point in the play, Pocahontas had stood in the center of a ring of people from her tribe. She had then performed a dance for her European lover who stood in the circle with her tribe. It was a dance of laughter and joy, full of spins and jumps and twists. Tara and I had loved that dance and we'd often tried to recreate it. Neither of us were good dancers and we only saw it the once, so probably what we ended up with was nothing like the original but we always had fun doing it.

Tara was staring at me, disconcerted by my smile. I raised both hands into the air, lifted my left foot high in the air then stamped it down and simultaneously clapped my hands above my head. Water sprayed out beneath my stamping foot. Tara's eyes widened in shock and surprise. It was the start of the Pocahontas dance. She obviously recognized the move. I swung my hip around, slapped my hands down to my thighs and stamped again.

The first two steps were hard. It felt like I was pushing through cobwebs to move my arms and legs. Then it became easier. My body remembered the much-practiced moves. The excitement of the dance swept me up and carried me along. The water splashing up with each move added vibrancy to the dance as I swayed and jumped to the rhythm in my head.

I twirled and stamped, clapped and jumped, shook and wriggled. Each stamp sent up sprays of water, each sliding step sent waves rippling across the flooded paving. I closed my eyes and let myself become Pocahontas, dancing out my exuberance. In my head, I could picture my tribe surrounding me, clapping and drumming to give me the beat. I felt light and free. Sheer happiness flooded through me.

I opened my eyes and laughed in surprise. Directly in front of me, two girls with linked arms were twirling each other, laughing hysterically as the water flew in all directions. Beside them, a group of boys were doing that jumping, jumping, jumping dance that boys do — bouncing off each other's chests and jumping again. I turned in my dance and saw others dancing and prancing in the water. Everywhere I looked I saw smiling and laughing. Then there was Tara and Laura. I stopped dancing and stood, looking at Tara with a smile on my face.

Tara was trying to hide a smile. Her eyes spoke to me. She wanted to join in but couldn't. She wanted to clap but couldn't. She wanted to run to me and hug me and kiss my face but she couldn't. So she stood there, with Laura's arm around her neck and her eyes told me where she wanted to be. Laura seemed puzzled by the change in everyone's mood. It was as if she could see that people around her were having fun, and she couldn't understand why. She saw me looking at her with a calm expression on my face, and sneered. Then she turned, dragging Tara with her and stalked away.

A hand grabbed mine and I turned again to see Liz standing in the water beside me, her legs soaked but her eyes sparkling with laughter.

"I don't know if that was the most inspired thing I've ever seen, or if you've just gone completely insane."

I shrugged. "Don't ask me. Probably the second option is the right one. But look! They stopped laughing at me."

"Come on, we should get out of here before the teachers break this up. People are having fun and that isn't allowed."

She spoke too late because at that instant three teachers descended on the scene, all shouting at us to get out of the water and stop being foolish. I got picked out for special yelling at because I was completely drenched from head to foot. A woman teacher who I didn't know told me very loudly, from inches in front of my face, how foolish I was to play around in the water like that and how much I'd regret it if I ended up sick. I couldn't be bothered defending myself so I just nodded and apologized. She seemed surprised that I didn't argue and half-heartedly sent me off to the nurse to borrow a towel so I could dry off a bit before class started.

We detoured to my locker so I could grab my sports bag. I figured that once I got dry, I could change into my P.E. uniform for the rest of the day. Then we headed to the nurse's office. The class bell rang just as we arrived and crowds of students started heading for their next class. Liz knocked at the door for me, but there was no answer. I stood dripping in the corridor, with my arms held out from my sides, wondering what to do next. I was starting to feel really cold and clammy and horrible again.

Nurse Wanda came strolling up the corridor and stopped to look at me as I stood there in a little puddle of water, dripping and shivering.

"Hello Rebecca, what happened to you?"

"I decided to try out for the swim team."

"Is that so? Last I heard, the swim team change into their suits before they jump into the water."

I shrugged, "I forgot my swim suit."

"She got pushed," broke in Liz angrily.

"Well you better come inside then, I always keep a few spare towels in here. They seem to come in handy every so often."

"Thank you, nurse."

We followed her into her office and she passed out towels. I explained my plan to change into my P.E. uniform and she thought that was an excellent idea. She even pulled a little curtain across so I could have some privacy while I changed. Liz followed me in and helped me to peel the wet clothes off me. I was glad of her help because my fingers were shaking and not working properly. I could hardly undo buttons and zips, let alone untie the wet laces on my shoes. Liz had to peel the wet jeans off me like she was skinning an animal. We kind of giggled and made comments to each other all through the process. Even my underwear was completely soaked so I had to take that off too. The only thing I kept on was Nana's locket, warm and solid against my chest. Liz asked about the locket, but I told her I'd talk about it some other time.

Thinking about it later, I felt weird about having stood completely naked in the nurse's office at school while Liz towelled me down, but at the time I just stood and shivered and let her dry me without thinking much about anything. I think a reaction had set in because my stomach started to cramp up and at least some of the shaking had nothing to do with being cold. Liz wrapped a dry towel around me and hugged me for a moment while I shook.

"I can't believe I just did that," I gasped. "They were all laughing at me and then... and then I just ignored them. Then I danced. What was I thinking? I made a complete idiot out of myself."

I sniffled into Liz's shoulder, but she just shhhed me and held me, rocking gently from side to side.

"It was amazing. It was the perfect thing to do. You shut them up. Not everyone was laughing at you. The ones who were, they just stopped. You totally shut them up. It was brilliant. Bec; you are my absolute hero. Now stop snivelling and stand still so I can get you dry. We're already late for science and you know how Gasbury gets when people are late for her lessons.

I forced a little smile and stood away from Liz, holding my arms out so she could pat them dry. Soon I was dry and a good deal warmer. Liz helped me step into my clean panties and shorts, then handed me first my sports bra and then my school sports top to put on. The school sports uniform was some sort of throwback to the 1980s or something. The shorts were very short and skin-tight. The t-shirt had super-short sleeves and was a really snug fit. Girls were always complaining about it and trying to get it changed. The teachers always said "one day we'll change the uniform." They also said "one day, we'll get a new gym." It seemed to me they always said it the same way Mrs Gasbury said "one day another giant asteroid will crash into the Earth."

Finally I put on the sweatpants and sweatshirt that I'd thrown into my bag in case I got cold, and I was dressed again and feeling a whole lot more human at the same time. I would have to wear my basketball shoes for the rest of the day but I guessed that wouldn't be a problem

Liz's shoes were a bit wet too, but she just tipped the water out of them then put them back on. She shrugged when I suggested she change into her sports shoes, "I was just going to wear these for the afternoon. I'm down to do volleyball in the gym and I figured these would be fine so I don't have any other shoes to change into. Don't worry, I'll sit next to the heater vents and they'll dry out in no time."

I hugged Liz again and kissed the side of her mouth. "Thank you so much for helping me, Liz. You are the best friend anyone could wish for."

She didn't say anything. She just smiled and kissed me back.

Nurse Wanda put her head around the curtain. "It sounds like you're all done in here. I found a plastic bag for you to put your wet clothes in, and here's a couple of tardy slips for your next class."

We thanked her and scooped all my wet clothes into the plastic bag, then dropped it into my sports bag. After thanking Nurse Wanda again for all of her help, we headed back to our lockers then off to science.

-------

It turned out that we didn't have to panic about being late after all. Mrs Gasbury was absent for the day as well. We had our second replacement teacher on the same day. This one was a very thin, young-looking man with a funny little moustache. He was sitting at the front desk and reading a magazine while the students sat in small groups and chatted. Apparently there was no work for us to do.

Liz and I found a corner near a heating vent and huddled while Liz grilled me about my "date" last night with Dan. I would have liked to tell it as a continuous story, but Liz kept asking questions that made me jump backwards and forwards to different places in the evening. That's how, after a fairly short amount of time, I ended up telling Liz about Dan's advice to me at the end of the night about getting to know boys by just going up to them and saying hello.

Liz looked around the room. "You know, this would be a perfect time to do that. Let's do it now. Dan's idea sounds like a good one."

"Huh?"

"What about Mikael and Phil? They're pretty quiet, but they have the smarts. Come on, let's go talk to them."

She was right. Mikael and Phil pretty much fit Dan's description of the sort of boys I should try talking to. They were sitting with their heads close to each other playing some sort of pen and paper game. Phil was blue-eyed and blond and a little bit chubby but not obese or anything. He always kept pretty quiet. Mikael had dark brown curly hair and darker skin and was as thin as a rake. He wore glasses all the time and the few times he spoke in class revealed a wicked sense of humor. They were both among the smaller boys in the class. Obviously they hadn't yet had the growth spurt that seemed to have hit a few of the boys earlier this year or late last year.

I gulped. I'd kind of been thinking I would work my way up to something like this. I'd figured I would talk to Liz a few times. Think about what to say. Build up my courage slowly. But Liz was walking towards these two boys and dragging me with her. Just one minute after I explained what Dan had told me, Liz was going to make me actually sit down and start talking to a pair of boys. What was I supposed to say? I gulped again.

Liz pulled a chair up to the pair of boys and sat, "Hey guys!"

I silently moved a second chair up to them and slid into it.

The two boys looked surprised. Phil actually had his mouth hanging open.

Mikael seemed to quickly get over his surprise. "Er, hi!"

Phil stuttered out a hello and looked around the room as if he were wondering if someone was about to play a prank on him.

"We were just wondering if you guys had any ideas for that Social Studies project we were given on Wednesday."

Mikael and Liz launched into a discussion about that project. It was hard for me to join in at first because I didn't even know we'd been given a Social Studies project, let alone what the project was about. That's beside the fact that it would have been hard for me to join in anyway. Phil was obviously finding it hard to join in too. I couldn't understand why, there was nothing scary about Liz and me. I mean, it's not like we were anyone special or anything like that. Then I remembered Dan saying something about girls seeming just as strange to boys as boys seem to girls. That made me feel better so I found myself able to make a few comments once I got caught up on the project. Phil soon started joining in a bit too.

Once the topic of the project had dried up, I asked about the game the boys had been playing. They called it racing cars. They'd drawn a snake-like racing track on the page and then they each took turns to move. A move consisted of putting the pen vertically on the page at the starting line, then with a finger on the top of the pen, pushing down until the pen scooted away across the page. The pen drew a line of course and the move finished at the point where the line hit the side of the track or the tip of the pen lifted up and stopped drawing a line. That spot became the starting point for the next move and so on. It was a pretty basic sort of game but soon all four of us were playing it and talking about trivial stuff while we did so. It was fun.

It probably took the rest of the period for me to relax totally and I think Phil was the same but by the end of the period all four of us were chatting and laughing as if we'd been friends for years. The weirdest thing was that it felt normal and natural and just like chatting with anyone else. I expected being social with boys would be different somehow, but it wasn't.

-------

The next class was Art and somehow the two boys ended up sitting at the same table with us. The art tables were set up to fit four people around each table, so that worked out okay. Mrs Billings started by handing back some work she had graded. I got back a charcoal drawing I'd been working on back on Wednesday, when I had been called out of class halfway through the lesson. Because of that, the drawing wasn't finished. I could tell it wasn't finished. I mean it looked like a picture but there was more needed doing to it before it was finished.

Mrs Billings had given my half-finished charcoal drawing an A. It was weird because that was the first time she had given me an A since I'd been at school and it was for a piece of work that was the worst thing I'd ever handed in. Obviously, Mrs Billings had been told off by Miss Webster for grading me so badly and had promptly given me an A regardless of what the picture deserved. It left kind of a sour taste in my mouth. This was worse than being given bad grades for work that I knew was good. I felt like screwing it up and throwing it away, but I stopped myself. I was just too well trained by The Mother to treat any piece of artwork like that. I put it away in my art folio and tried to forget about it.

Today's project was lino-printing. It's a fairly simple process. You take a small piece of linoleum. Carve away the bits you don't want. Then you use a roller to put ink on the surface that's left. Then press it onto a piece of paper. The result is a negative print of what you carved. That means there's color everywhere except the bits you cut away. You can use the same linocut to produce several prints of your picture. It's fun, it's cheap, it's simple and it's quick.

One problem with it is that like any carving, once you cut anything away, it's gone. You can't put it back. So when I returned to my seat clutching my piece of lino and my carving tool, I made sure that I didn't copy everyone else who immediately starting cutting into the lino. I sat there and closed my eyes and tried to plan. It had to be something simple because we had to finish it within one period. I sat still and searched for inspiration.

Pocahontas came to mind pretty quickly. Could I do something with her? The image that came into mind was Pocahontas dancing. It was an image full of life and movement. It would be hard to convey the movement on a linocut. That picture needed to be done with watercolor paints, with washed out colors flying out from her. I filed that one away in my brain to do another time.

Then I thought about Cindi, lying on her bed. That was a static image so it might be easier to do. In my mind, I did a pencil drawing of her — no shading, just outlines. Then I thought it would be quicker to carve if I didn't use so many lines, so I mentally erased some of the lines, leaving just a simple outline of Cindi lying down. There wasn't even a bed, just Cindi. That made me wonder if I could make it even simpler. I scrubbed everything and mentally drew just a few simple curving lines. Each curve provided an important feature of her body; her hair, her face, the top side of her torso, two lines for the top side of her two legs. I was amazed how few lines it took before it became obvious this was a picture of a person. I added two little blotches on the chest and it became a woman. I added one little blotch at the join of her legs for her pubic hair and it became a naked woman. I knew it was Cindi, but no one else would.

My eyes were still closed, but I could feel a gentle smile spread across my face. I knew how I could make it even better. I opened my eyes, stood and went to the supply cupboard. Instead of a small square of paper the size of the piece of lino, I grabbed two long strips. I sat down and picked up a knife, then I trimmed the outside of the lino piece away until it formed an oval instead a square. I changed tools and carefully dug out a single hole a bit to the left of the center and then two more little holes right next to each other, level with the first but well to the right of the center.

That was all I did! I rolled purple ink onto my lino cut and carefully made a print on the top of my first strip of paper. It came out beautifully. The ink wasn't evenly spread across the oval so the three little white splotches could easily be mistaken for imperfections in the otherwise completely filled in oval. I re-inked the linocut and made a new print on my second strip of paper. Then I carefully scrubbed the ink off my linocut ready for the next step.

Liz looked curiously at what I'd done. "Huh? What is it?"

"It's not finished yet."

She shrugged and went back to her own carving. The other three around the table were kind of chatting about stuff, but I was absorbed in what I was doing.

Carefully I added the single curving line that would be Cindi's hair. Then I rolled lime green ink onto my lino cut and made a second print on my strip of paper directly underneath the first one. I repeated it on the strip and then once more scrubbed the lino clean.

"What are you up to?" I was startled by the sudden voice. It was Mrs Billings, looking over my shoulder.

"It's not finished yet." Liz jumped to my defense.

I ignored Mrs Billings and concentrated on what I was doing. Once again I cut a single line, this time it was the curve of her bent knee. I used a pale blue ink for that print. The next cut was the short wobbly line of her face. I used a strong yellow color for the fourth print. The surface of the lino was degrading slightly from all the printing and scrubbing. It wasn't cleaning perfectly between each print the way I hoped it would. On the other hand it meant the colors had weird impurities through them that I thought were kind of interesting.

I had the system down pat by now but I was running out of choices of colors. The next cut was the line of the other leg, lying flat on the bed — but it wasn't a straight line of course, no straight lines allowed. It flowed with a flat curve for the top of the thigh, a little rise for the knee then a swoop for the shin and finally hooking up to suggest the foot. I was nearly in despair over what color to use, then I slapped my forehead and said "Doh!" I poured some of the lime green into a fresh tray, then stirred in a few drops of blue, then a few more. A good stir gave me a rich, lush green — almost a forest green. I was pleased with the contrasting colors I was getting down the page. The progressively emerging lines were clearly creating some picture but it was still not obvious what. The others sitting around the table had started making guesses and asking for hints. I smiled a secret smile at them and went back to work.

The final cut was a smoothly curving line, from the shoulder, sweeping down over the ribs, curling down past the waist then up over the hip. It pointed at, but didn't actually join the line of the top leg. The observer would see the connection without me putting it there.

For the final color I used red — it was a strong, vibrant, blood-red ink that talked to me about passion and sex. I could sense the others leaning in and watching with breathless anticipation as they waited to see what picture would emerge. I pressed my oval of lino to the page then peeled it off. There she was. Cindi lay revealed in her sparse white lines amidst the red oval at the end of the sequence. I smiled as pleasure washed through me. It had worked.

"Holy crap!" "Oh My God!" "That's brilliant!" Whispered exclamations came at me from all sides.

"It's a naked woman!" was Phil's contribution — I'd never picked him as being slow on the uptake before.

I smiled again. It felt nice to make good art. I careful re-inked the linocut and repeated the final print on my second copy. I compared the two and was pleased that they were mostly the same, but noticeably different from the each other. The differences were in the patterns of ink which changed each time I'd re-inked the linocut. Everything else was the same. I decided I liked the second one better.

I glanced at the clock and figured I had about six minutes left before we had to start cleaning up. There was just enough time for the final touch. Quickly I grabbed an offcut of lino and trimmed it into a small rectangle. Then working furiously, I carved out "CINDY" in block letters, inked it up with black ink and used it to print her name at the bottom of each sequence. I saw Mrs Billings walking towards me, and quickly slid my second copy, the better one, across to Liz.

"Hide this," I whispered.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as she deftly slid it under the spread out newspapers we were using to protect the tables from spilled ink.

Mrs Billings came up to our table and I pointed at the single strip of paper laid out on the table in front of me and said, "there it is. I'm finished. In fact, we're all finished."

The others had their finished prints in front of them. Liz had done quite a nice face, Phil had done a sort of stylized fish with interesting scale patterns all across it and Mikael had done a tree but it was fairly symmetrical and quite plain so it wasn't that interesting as a picture.

Mrs Billings glanced around the table and made encouraging noises to everyone, then started saying we should start cleaning up. Then she did a double-take on my print and turned it around to look more closely at it. I held my breath. I didn't really care whether she thought it was good or not, as far as I was concerned she'd blown her last shred of respect by giving that unfinished charcoal drawing an A. What I was worried about was if she would get all hysterical about me doing a naked woman picture.

I mean it was all completely stylized and I didn't think it was rude or anything, but it was unmistakeably a naked woman. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to do stuff like that and I didn't want to get into trouble again.

She pursed her lips and looked at it more carefully, scanning down the sequence of prints to see how the picture emerged. The top half of the sequence was just a big tease. Looking at them on their own gave no clue to the finished picture. But once you knew what the finished picture was, you could see it there from the very first print with its three white blobs.

"Miss Freeman, I shall have to show this to Miss Webster. I'm not sure if it would be appropriate to put it on the art display board. It's a pity because the sequence is quite well done and demonstrates the process quite nicely. I would have preferred you to use a more appropriate theme though."

With that she collected the prints from the other three at my table and walked off shaking her head.

I let out my breath slowly. At least she hadn't torn it up, that's what I'd been afraid of. Maybe she was too afraid of how Miss Webster would react if she tore up anything I'd done. This whole business with Mrs Billings left my stomach feeling all tensed up. I didn't know what to do about it. I couldn't stop doing art. I suspected Mrs Billings would only be happy if I did pictures of gingerbread houses with happy stick figure families and I couldn't do that. My art came from somewhere dark, deep inside my brain. It bubbled inside me, waiting to burst out. I couldn't help it if it made people uncomfortable. Sometimes it made me uncomfortable.

Sometimes I would look at what I'd drawn and it would tie my insides up in knots.

But it was real.

It was a vital part of me.

Drawing, making pictures, whatever... was as important to me as breathing.

The rustling of newspapers brought my attention back to the world. Cleaning up was real too. I joined Liz and the two boys in cleaning up all the scraps and washing all the ink rollers. I carefully retrieved the copy of my print from under the newspaper and folded it in half so that I could slide it between my books. I hadn't been sure I would ever again see the version I handed to Mrs Billings. I still wasn't sure.

-------

Walking to the cafeteria for lunch was a bit unnerving. I felt like everyone was staring at me. It probably wasn't everybody, but I sure felt like I was being stared at. I couldn't work out if it was because I was walking around school in my sweats, which no one ever did. Or maybe it was because I'd made a complete idiot out of myself at recess, first by "accidentally" falling flat into the water, then by dancing around in the water like some escapee from the psych ward. Okay, maybe that's not a funny thing to make jokes about, especially since after this week, I was starting to feel as if maybe I really was some escapee from a psych ward.

Liz and I got through the line at the cafeteria and collected our trays of processed mush, plus an apple and a carton of fruit juice. They seemed to think the slightly healthier pieces of fruit and cartons of juice would balance out the mush and turn the whole thing into a healthy meal. I think today's mush was supposed to be lasagne but I wasn't completely sure.

We found a table to ourselves and Liz tried to talk about recess, but I asked her to change the subject. Then suddenly Phil and Mikael were standing next to us with their trays of food and asking if they could join us. We both said "sure" and shuffled around to make room. They obviously wanted to talk about something but as soon as they sat down, they both went all shy and tongue-tied on us. Liz and I had to play twenty questions to figure out what their problem was.

It turned out that their usual friends had been teasing them about their new "girlfriends" and they were confused about what was going on. All we did was sit and talk to them in two classes and suddenly the rest of the boys decided that was good enough make us an "item." Boys are so stupid.

Liz and I looked at each other and did that non-verbal communication thing. Then she kind of explained that we weren't really looking for boyfriends as such, but we thought they were pretty decent and we wouldn't mind being friends with them. I nodded along with Liz. Then she said we might end up trying to be more friendly with other people in the class as well and they seemed to understand that.

I hope they weren't disappointed or anything. I wasn't sure whether they were embarrassed because people thought they had girlfriends, or if they were embarrassed because they wanted us to be their girlfriends. It was all very confusing in my head, so I was glad that Liz said what she did. At the same time I didn't want them to be upset or anything. I just wanted to get better at talking to people, especially boys, and we'd started with them. It's all so complicated. I mean no one cares if I talk to Liz — except for Hannah Fargo of course and she calls us lesbians because we spend so much time with each other, which only goes to show how much she knows about lesbians — but no one else cares if I talk to Liz. But apparently if I talk to a boy, suddenly that makes him my boyfriend and everyone starts gossipping about us. Maybe that's why people were staring at Liz and me on the way to lunch. Not because of what I was wearing, not because of what happened at recess, but because we had dared to sit and talk with a couple of boys for two periods. Aaaargh!!

After the embarrassing part of the conversation was over, we switched to talking about different films that we'd all seen. It was a fairly safe sort of topic, so I think everyone kind of relaxed more and it was much easier just to sit and chat and be friendly. That was nice.

-------

We'd all finished eating so I volunteered to stack up the plates and trays and take them back. I guess I was just wandering along in my own little world, when suddenly I felt my foot being taken out from under me. I crashed to the floor in a jangle of falling plates and banging trays. The crash of my fall had cut through all the noise of the cafeteria and it had gone silent. Then the silence was broken by laughter as people around me looked and saw me lying in the mess of dropped trays.

I rolled onto my back and groaned to myself. I wasn't hurt at all. I just had scraps of mush smeared all up and down the front of my sweatpants and sweatshirt. It was gross, completely and totally gross. There was more laughter from right near me as my front became visible, especially from one particular table. I glanced in that direction and there was Laura DiMartino, sitting with her leg out laughing hysterically. She was the one who'd tripped me. My sister was the other side of her, not laughing but kind of smirking a bit. The other two sheep in Laura's gang were there as well, dutifully laughing at my situation.

I pulled myself to my feet and looked down my front in disgust. Then I was filled with an icy rage. I looked straight at Laura's mocking face and wanted to slap it so hard that her teeth would fly out. I wanted to grab her hair and drag her face first through the slops on the floor. I wanted to scratch those taunting eyes right out of her skull and squeeze them until they burst.

The desire for violence roared through me then disappeared, leaving me horrified at myself that I should think such things. Laura was smiling up at me as if she knew how badly I wanted to smash my fist into her face. She knew if I tried that, she'd have won some sort of weird mental battle. But I'd already moved past that and thought of something even better.

I looked Laura straight in the eye and undid the zipper on my sweatshirt, slipping it off my shoulders. Liz was suddenly beside me and she helped pull it off my arms. Mikael was down on the floor picking up the fallen trays and plates. I undid the string on my sweatpants, and whistling started up nearby. Some boys were clapping and calling out for me to "take it off, take it off." I was still staring straight at Laura and her laugh had frozen in her face. I pushed my sweatpants down my legs and Liz helped me step out of them, leaving me in just my sports uniform. I could sense Liz behind me rolling them up so the mess was on the inside, but my focus was on Laura.

I held my head high and stared at her, my hands on my hips, daring her to try again, daring her to take her best shot, daring her to make one more attempt to humiliate me in front of all these people. She thought I was weak and an easy target. Maybe I was. But now I had a secret weapon. It lay solid and warm against my chest. Nana had fought against cancer and won. My mother had been labelled as insane and been locked up, but she had fought against all of that and won. I had a part of their strength now, captured and preserved in that solid metal locket. If they could fight and win against such enormous odds then the Laura DiMartinos of the world weren't going to defeat me. I stood there in my too tight shorts and my skimpy t-shirt and stared her down.

The mocking smile disappeared from her face and was replaced with a tight-lipped grimace. It sounded like the whole cafeteria was clapping and cheering and whistling. Quite a few people, mostly boys, were yelling "Strip, strip, strip" and "Take it off." I heard a few wolf-whistles too. I stared at Laura and realized she wasn't going to do anything. She was just sitting there. I spun on my heel, turning my back on her and walked away. I walked directly away from her, straight out the door of the cafeteria. I was followed by more whistles and cat-calls. A part of me wished they didn't do that. It wasn't like I looked sexy or anything. But at least they'd stopped laughing at me.

I was also followed outside by Liz and Mikael and Phil.

Outside, the concrete area was no longer flooded. The concrete was still damp but it was drying in the bright sun. Obviously the maintenance guy had unblocked the drains. I walked straight out onto the wet concrete and stood in the middle of the area, somehow having returned to the place of my crazy dance earlier in the day.

There were people out here, students who hadn't been in the cafeteria. A lot of boys were looking at me strangely. I never really thought before about how exposed I was when wearing the sports uniform. I guess when everyone else is wearing the same thing, you don't notice it so much. But here I was standing in the school courtyard in the middle of lunchtime wearing short, skin-tight shorts and a very short-sleeved close fitting t-shirt. I would never have dreamed of walking around school wearing so little, but there I was. Boys were actually looking at me, as if... as if they liked what they saw.

It was scary and thrilling and humiliating and exciting — all at the same time.

The weirdest thing was; a part of me didn't care.

I just stood there in the middle of the courtyard, and let them look.

Liz came up to me and silently handed me my rolled up sweats. The two boys were hanging back and watching from a distance, unsure of their new friendship or maybe just unsure of what to do.

I raised one eyebrow at Liz. "So what is this, Pick on Bec Day or something?"

She smiled at me and hugged me tightly, then released me and stepped back.

"Nope! It's Bec Fights Back Day..."

She smiled so broadly it was like a light glowing inside her face.

"... and I'm so proud of you I could burst."

I smiled back at her, then closed my eyes.

I tilted my head back and let the warmth of the sun penetrate my face.

Bec Fights Back Day.

I could live with that.



-------

Chapter 23: Friday Afternoon

The bell for the end of the school day on a Friday always sounds just like every other school bell — but it certainly feels different. It's the signal for the start of the weekend — two whole days and three whole nights of non-school. It's not that I hate school or anything, like I know some people do. It's just that most of the time, non-school is better than school.

The sports afternoon had been fun. Two whole periods of doing something I really loved as opposed to sitting in classes which I mostly liked, but... 

I hadn't had to work very hard, compared to what I'm used to from playing basketball, so I hadn't even worked up a sweat. That was a good thing because I had no more clothes to change into. Everyone else had changed back into their normal clothes. It's really weird but when everyone is changed for PE the uniform doesn't worry me, but when it's just me I feel really self-conscious. The shorts are very short and close-fitting. The shirt is short-sleeved and tighter than I would like. In other words, they are clothes that I would never wear anywhere except maybe on a tropical beach.

My other problem was that being dressed like that seems to be taken as an invitation for the boys to stare at my legs, stare at my bum, stare at my body. It felt to me like in their heads they were imagining stripping even that scant protection away from me and making me walk naked down the corridor. It made my skin crawl.

There was a press of bodies caught up in a traffic jam where two corridors met. I found myself stuck right in the middle of a crowd of older students with both arms full of my sports bag and my book bag. Suddenly I felt a seriously hard pinch right on the cheek of my butt. I squeaked and spun around as quickly as I could but all I saw was a crowd of boys pressed around me. Not a single one of them was looking at me. I glared at the group of them anyway, then pressed my way backwards through the crowd, feeling a lot like a salmon trying to swim upstream. It took some effort but I made my way into a little gap in front of some girls I didn't know who were from Tara's year. Hoping I would be safer with them behind me rather than boys, I allowed myself to be swept along once more.

The way the crowd burst through the front doors and flowed down the steps reminded me of a film I'd seen where they released floodwater from a dam and it suddenly came rushing down that shoot thing on the other side of the dam wall. I flowed with the crowd a bit then tried to swim my way to the edge. Just before I made it to safety I felt a hand grab my butt and squeeze it — right on the spot I'd been pinched before. It really hurt. I was pretty sure that I'd have a bruise there the next day. I squealed and jumped for safety where the steps extended out along the front of the building. The crowd continued to rush down the steps behind me, the excitement of starting the weekend evident in their noise. I immediately lost interest as I saw a hunched figure slumped on the steps as far away from the crowd as it could get.

Tara was sitting hunched over with her forearms resting on her knees and her head down. I went over to her and sat beside her. She had been swimming and had obviously showered because her hair had that just-washed look to it.

"Get lost!" She didn't even look at me when she said it.

I didn't feel like a fight so I stood and walked away a few steps. Then I stopped and reconsidered. She was obviously miserable and I didn't have to be Einstein to figure out at least part of her problem. I turned back and resumed my place seated on the step beside her.

"I told you to go away." She still wasn't looking at me.

"I did, but then I remembered something so I came back — several somethings actually."

"So, little genius, what did you remember?" The sarcasm was dripping off her like drips off an ice cream cone melting on a hot summer's day."

"Well for a start, you're not the boss of me so I don't have to do what you say. More importantly, I figure after the way you sat with me and looked after me earlier this week that maybe I owed you one."

"You must hate me."

"Why should I hate you?" I knew what she was talking about, I just wanted her to say it.

"After what I did today, and at school yesterday. I saw the look on your face. You hate me."

Inside my brain, I was comparing what Tara was saying to me, to what I had said to Dan that morning. I was kind of thankful that Dan had given me such a good answer, because it gave me a place to start with Tara.

"I don't hate you. I never have hated you. You're my sister and I love you."

She snorted. She obviously didn't believe me. Why couldn't I be as convincing as Dan was?

"Sure we've done some mean things to each other over the years, and said some mean things. Sometimes we fight like it's the end of the world. But I've never stopped loving you and I think you know that."

My other point, the one I carefully didn't say out loud, was that with everything else going on right now I just didn't have the energy to hate her. Come to think of it, I couldn't even hate Laura, or Hannah, or anyone really. They were there. They existed in my life like huge potholes in the road of my life that I had to keep steering around. You don't hate potholes, you just work out how to avoid running into them.

I reached out and clasped her hand in mine.

"Nothing that happened today has changed how I love you. I guess I was disappointed that you didn't, I don't know, stick up for me or something, but I still love you."

Tara's head never lifted so I couldn't see her face. I didn't realize she was crying until I saw the little circles of damp suddenly appear in the concrete under where she was sitting. I squeezed her hand and stopped talking.

Yellow buses, packed with sardines, were pulling out of the car park. I watched them go. I was pleased that for a change, today I was a salmon instead of a sardine. I was going to Dan's school, in the other direction and the city bus that would take me there didn't leave for another 30 minutes. I was in no hurry so I could take my time to sit with my sister.

The conversation had completely stopped, so I just sat there holding her hand. It was nice to sit in the sun. As long as there was no wind, you could actually get quite warm. I closed my eyes, letting the sun warm the skin of my face.

I felt Tara shift beside me. I lifted one eyelid and peeked at her. She had sat up and was staring out at the traffic bustling past on the main road. I didn't let go of her hand, so she had to use the sleeve of her other arm to dry her face. She kept looking out, away from me. I wasn't sure if she was actually looking at something or just looking away.

"My friends will be here soon. Laura and Tracey had to see a teacher after school. Tracey's sister is driving us to the mall."

"Okay." I didn't really care that much, but she was talking to me so I figured I may as well listen. Maybe she was building up to something.

I could see her biting her lip. She was definitely working up to something.

I waited.

"Laura found out that I've had sex, so now she's ragging on me to go to more... um... interesting parties with her."

She did the finger quotes around "interesting parties." I got the message.

"There's one tonight. A high school party, over at the top end of Power Street."

"Do you want to go?"

"I don't think I have a choice."

"Sure you do. You just say no!"

"I don't think I can."

I thought for a moment.

"Well at least they aren't going to make you have sex tonight."

"What?" She turned to look at me, all puzzled and curious. "Why not?"

"Don't you have your period?"

A brief look of hope flashed across her face, and then faded.

"It finished this morning."

"Do they know that?"

Her jaw dropped. Her eyes went wide and then a fierce grin spread across her face.

She squeezed my hand. "How did I ever get you for a sister?"

"Double pay, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!"

The grin softened to my sister's normal "happy" face.

"The Parents think we're going to the mall for a while, then going to a movie. Will you cover for me?"

"I'm going to Dan's game. I won't be back 'til late. I won't be able to do much covering."

"Oh yeah. It's his last game. I should be going too."

"You had your chance."

"I know. That was before I knew about... I was looking forward to that movie."

I shook my head at her. The movie would be showing every night for weeks. Dan's last game wasn't going to be repeated. The game would have given Tara a perfect excuse not to go to that party. Sometimes Tara was her own worst enemy but I wasn't going to tell her that.

We sat in silence and held hands. I hoped I was giving her some comfort.

Tara obviously half wanted to go to this party — it wasn't just Laura making her do it. If Tara was so desperate not to go, she would have figured out some way to avoid it. I had no idea why she would want to go. Maybe she was curious about what a high school party would be like. She was also nervous about going. Of course, being pressured into having sex was the obvious problem for her, but also she wasn't comfortable about outright lying to The Parents. She was also being torn between me and her friends. Laura seemed to be forcing her to choose and she didn't seem to be ready to do that. I didn't really want her to have to choose either. I might not like Laura very much, but Tara needed friends — probably more than I did.

Laura and her two robots arrived — or should I say, Laura and her other two robots arrived. They all went "Hey" at each other.

Laura looked suspiciously at our clasped hands, then turned to me. "We're not taking you with us. There isn't room in the car."

I just stared back at her, "I know!" I was kind of pleased with myself for staying so cool and calm. Then I remembered thinking how I didn't have any energy for hating Laura. I refused to let go of Tara's hand. I looked at Laura like she was a pothole I would have to steer around. She didn't seem to like it.

She turned to Tara, "Come on, we have to go. Tracey's sister will be waiting."

I looked at Tracey, who was robot number two and wondered if her sister had a name. I looked back at Laura and wondered if Tara's sister had a name. I wondered if Laura treated Tracey's sister the same way she treated Tara's sister. I wondered if Laura's sister had a name. I wondered if Laura treated Laura's sister the same way she treated Tara's sister.

Tara shifted her weight and stood up. Then she used our clasped hands to help me up. She seemed to half glance at Laura and then pulled me into a hug. It was kind of unexpected but I didn't object.

"Enjoy the game. I'll see you late tonight, or tomorrow. Say hi to Dan for me."

I was quietly impressed. Maybe there was hope for Tara after all. I decided to support her by continuing the little charade.

I leaned right into her hug, then kissed her cheek and pulled back.

"Okay. Enjoy your time at the mall. Give Mom a hug for me when you get home."

"For fuck's sake," broke in Laura. "What the fuck is this, Happy Families or something?"

Laura turned and marched away, followed by her three dutiful little robots. I had a new goal in life — to add to my long list of goals. If Tara was actually going to try being independent — even in little ways, then I would support and encourage her any way I could. Maybe one day there would be two people and two robots in that group. Or maybe even (gasp) four actual people!

-------

After spending all day at middle school, stepping off the bus into the community college is like stepping into a different world. It's not just that the people are older and bigger, but that sure makes a difference. It's not just that the buildings and facilities look completely different either. It's the attitude of the place — the feel. Everything is so much more casual and relaxed. There are no bells, no scowling duty teachers supervising your every move, no rules about PDAs and no attendance checks. The students here are treated like adults instead of little kids. I mean, they are adults but, well, you know... 

Not for the first time, I wished I could skip the whole middle school-high school experience and come straight here to finish my education. I had it all planned out. I would just take a couple of subjects at a time instead of the normal number. I would spend all the extra time catching up on the things that I'd missed that I needed for those two subjects. This place had a good library and I was pretty sure it would have high school text books in there, plus anything else I would need. It wouldn't worry me to spend five or six years here to do a normal two year course. I'd miss hanging out with Liz during lunchtimes but apart from that I wouldn't miss being with kids my own age — not for a second. Once I'd finished that, then I'd be the right age and ready to go to the university. It seemed like a perfect plan to me. Of course, it was only a fairy tale, but Mom always said it was important to have dreams.

I walked through campus feeling a bit out of place in just my school PE uniform. Then I had an idea and fished Dan's old football jersey out of my bag. I put it on straight over the top of the other clothes and it draped around me, falling to just above my knees. With the shorts underneath completely covered, I was effectively wearing it like a dress. This was Dan's college football jersey from last season, the one he'd given to me. It still had his name and number on the back and everything. Now that I was in the college colors I felt like I belonged here, so I picked up my bags and walked along the path much more confidently.

I had some time to kill before meeting up with Dan. He would be in class right now and he was supposed to meet me at a little campus cafeteria as soon as his class let out. I figured I would just sit in a corner of the cafeteria and do some homework until he showed up. I headed inside and there were lots of spare tables so I found a table near a window and pulled out my science book. This place was nothing like a school cafeteria, it was more like a café you would find in a strip mall except with interesting college mementos on the walls. They served coffees and shakes and pastries and stuff like that. They had pre-made sandwiches wrapped in cling-wrap and fruit salads in little sealed plastic cups and things like that too.

I was just thinking that maybe I should get a snack to keep me going since I wouldn't get to eat properly until after the game, when Dan came in the door. We waved at each other and he came over to me.

"Hey! We're just having a five minute break from class. I thought I'd check to see if you'd gotten here yet."

"Obviously I have."

"I'm going to grab something to eat, do you want anything?"

"Thanks! I'd love one of their ham and cheese sandwiches. And please could I have a bottle of iced tea? That would be nice too."

"Sure thing. Back in a second!"

He walked over to the counter to place his order and returned fairly quickly. He handed me my sandwich and drink and I noticed he'd bought exactly the same for himself.

"I have to head back to class. Will you be okay here?"

"I'm okay, but..."

"But what?"

"Would I be allowed to sit with you in class? I promise not to make a noise."

Dan shrugged. "I don't see why not. People audit classes all the time. Let's go."

I tucked my science book under one arm and tried to pick up my bags. Dan ended up carrying my bags and I carried our food. We detoured to Dan's car in the parking lot and dumped my bags in the trunk. Dan checked with me twice to see if I needed anything from my bags because I wouldn't be able to get at them again until after we got back from the game. I shook my head. I had my science book under my arm. All my spare clothes were wet or messy. I had my hairbrush in my bag, but I didn't have any pockets and didn't feel like carrying it around all evening. Dan took my brush from me and dropped it in a side pocket of his own sports bag, which he lifted from the trunk and slung over his back by its strap.

The classroom or lecture hall or whatever you're supposed to call it had a bunch of people in it settling themselves back in after their short break. Dan dropped his bag beside the door next to two other similar looking sports bags and led me to where he had been seated. I slid into the chair next to him and handed him his sandwich and iced tea. Dan's books and notes were spread out on the bench in front of him and I put my science book down in front of me.

I think I got a few glares from some of the girls in the room. I think it was because I obviously came in with Dan and was sitting next to him when that was what they wanted. I didn't say anything. I just kept looking around the room.

We unwrapped our sandwiches and nibbled on them. I glanced around the room and saw that most of the people in the room had at least a cup of coffee while quite a few had snacks to eat. This was obviously a long session and I thought it was another sign of the difference that they would take a break and bring snacks and drinks into class. At my school it's forbidden to eat or drink anything in class — you aren't even allowed to chew gum. Here it seemed perfectly normal and I figured it was pretty sensible as well.

The lecturer called everyone's attention back to the front and picked up where he had apparently left off. I'd been intending to sit next to Dan and review my science book but I never got around to opening it. The lecture was just too fascinating. They had obviously designed a simplified building with just four corner posts holding up a flat square frame. That it was it, no walls, no ceiling, nothing fancy at all. Then the lecturer was talking about different disasters that could happen to the building, like an earthquake or a truck driving into a corner post or a bomb or whatever. For each thing that could happen, he would go through the math to decide if the building would survive or not. The math seemed long and complicated, even for such a simple building. There were some symbols that I didn't know and there were a lot of algebra steps being done that I couldn't really follow but that didn't matter.

What was most interesting was that after doing the math once by hand, he would turn to a computer and run a simulation that would do it all automatically. He would run the simulation over and over increasing the settings each time until the building's structure failed and it collapsed. We could all watch the simulation on two giant screens — one screen showed all the numbers and the other showed an animated picture of the building that was obviously controlled by the simulation program.

This all took quite some time to work through the different things that could happen to the building. Each time the math was a bit different but it seemed to have a lot of similar steps each time. After a while I was starting to recognize the steps, even if I didn't understand completely what was going on with the math. I also started to recognize what numbers to watch for on the screen so I could know when the building was going to fail.

A question occurred to me and I leaned over to Dan so I could whisper in his ear. He glanced at me and shrugged — he obviously didn't know the answer.

The lecturer's voice shot out like a whip. "Miss! If you are going to sit in my class, you will kindly not start whispering."

"Sorry sir," I said. My reply was so quiet that I doubt if anyone but Dan could have heard me.

Dan cleared his throat, "My sister had a question about your lecture and I didn't know the answer."

"Well I would hope you would know the answers by now. We've been talking about this for nearly two hours. What was the question? Maybe I can enlighten her."

He was sounding a bit sarcastic, as if my question was likely to be something like "What color was the building?" or something inane like that.

I got a bit angry and blurted out my question so loud that everyone could hear it. "What happens if two things happen at once? I mean, like, what happens if there's an earthquake and at the same time a truck runs into it?"

The lecturer's eyes went a bit larger and his expression changed. It kind of went from arrogant to intrigued. "And what makes you think such a thing could happen?"

Refusing to be daunted by his glare, I took a deep breath and tried to answer as calmly (and loudly) as I could. "It seems like common sense to me. If there's an earthquake going on, then a truck driver is more likely than normal to lose control and drive into the side of the building. If a terrorist wanted to do a lot of damage, they might drive a truck into the building first and then set off a bomb on the truck. A hot fire inside the building could set off a gas explosion as well."

His scowl suddenly turned into a broad smile. "The young lady has an excellent point. In fact, throughout the last century, while some structures have failed as a result of a single incident, by far the majority have failed due to a combination of several factors. Let's examine why!"

With that he turned to the math-covered board and pulled it down. That revealed a second board which was already packed with an even more complex set of equations. Just about everyone in the class let out this quiet sigh as they looked at the board covered with all its squiggles and letters. With a start, I realized that the lecturer hadn't been surprised by my question. He'd been prepared and was waiting for it. What had surprised him was that I had been the one to ask, rather than one of the college students. I felt a little warm glow inside me as I thought about that.

He explained that this was the calculation for a collision followed by an explosion. He started to explain the math, step by step and after a moment I figured out that it was just like before but with parts taken from the math for a collision and parts taken from the math for an explosion but somehow combined. I still didn't understand the steps. I still didn't know what all the squiggles meant, but I could recognize the patterns.

Then I spotted something and I started feeling a bit nervous. I looked carefully at the math on the board then leaned over to where Dan's notes were spread out so I could check what I was thinking.

"What is it?" Dan whispered.

"Miss? Is there a problem? Perhaps you have another question?"

I stared at the lecturer, my eyes wide. I wasn't sure if I could do this, but he just watched me impassively.

I licked my lips, which had suddenly become incredibly dry, and tried to swallow but my throat felt like it was carpeted with dust. The lecturer was still watching me, waiting in silence. I knew I had no choice but to speak.

"Sir..." my voice was quieter than that pin dropping that people keep talking about. I tried again. "Sir, in the fourth line, the bit at the right, after the triangle, isn't that the same as the third line of the explosion calculation?"

"Yes, indeed it is, only now the partial integral is..." (there was more to that sentence but he may as well have been talking in a foreign language.) "So what of it?"

"Well, you did it differently to what you did in the explosion calculation."

"Of course I did. As I just explained, this time the partial integral is..." (more foreign language)

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know the right words for this but I just thought that there was an x missing above the little e, just after that curvy line."

He shook his head at my lack of proper math language and started to launch into another explanation when he suddenly froze with a stricken look on his face. Then he swore (a teacher actually swore in front of the class — that made my jaw drop — I'm not going to write down what he said) and spun back to face the board. I could see the tension in his back as his eyes traced through the math.

After a moment of silence in the room, he turned back to face the class with a slight blush on his cheeks. "Sorry about that everyone. The young lady is perfectly correct. I just need to fix this up."

Then he took an eraser and carefully worked down the board erasing little sections and rewriting the bits. He was giving a running commentary as he went of the consequences of his little error which was mostly in math gobbledegook but he seemed to be saying that if his error had been left, the building wouldn't have survived if someone sneezed on it.

It didn't take too long before he was done and able to resume the lecture. He quickly took the simulator through a number of combinations of events. The results were startling. The structure failed dramatically way faster than it had with just a single event to cope with.

Dan's watch started beeping and almost simultaneously two other watches in the room started beeping. The beeps were quickly cut off and Dan raised his hand. The lecturer sighed and waved towards the door.

"I understand! I was warned that you would need to leave. Thank you, gentlemen, for your time. Good luck for tonight's game."

Dan leaned over to me, "We have to go catch the team bus. The spectator buses won't leave for another hour. Do you want to come outside with me, or do you want to stay in here?"

"Can I?" I asked, glancing at the large screens running their latest simulation.

"Don't see why not. Have fun. See you later."

He leant over quickly and kissed my cheek, then hustled out of the room. He and the other two football players in the room picked up their bags from beside the door and left.

"Well," said the lecturer, turning to the rest of us. "Fortunately that doesn't happen every week. Now I won't bother with the math today, but in our last 20 minutes, let's run the simulation with three or more events happening simultaneously.

The poor little pseudo-building didn't stand a chance. It was kind of fun. I know it's supposed to be a boy thing to enjoy blowing things up or knocking things down, but watching that poor little building collapse again and again as the class came up with more and more outlandish things to do to it was just downright fun.

At the end of the class I tucked my science book under my arm and tried to slide quietly out of the room. I say tried, because I got effectively cornered by the lecturer. He thrust a brochure at me which I automatically took from him.

"Hey miss, thanks for spotting my error. You can audit my classes anytime you want. You might find the first year classes a bit more accessible, though, if you're wanting to actually enroll and pick up some college credits. Here's the brochure on how to do that. Most high schools are quite happy for their better students to pick up a class or two at college. We have quite a few subjects that are suitable, depending on your interest. Just go to your school counselor and tell them what you want to do."

"Um, I'm not in high school."

His eyes lit up. "Really? If you're home schooled, that makes it even easier. It means you don't have to juggle your high school schedule so much to get here."

"No! I mean I'm not in high school, because I'm only thirteen. I'm still in middle school."

His jaw dropped and his eyes just about popped out of his head. He swore in surprise. Once again, I'm not going to write down what he said. It amazes me that a college lecturer would swear in front of students. The way my teachers behave, you'd think they don't even know those words.

"So they must have fast-tracked you through high school math then."

I shrugged at him. "Not really. I'm just doing the same math as everyone else."

He shook his head in amazement. "Are you telling me that you picked up the error in my math, despite the fact that you haven't even started learning calculus? I'm blown away by that. How did you do that?"

"Well I suppose I watched my brother work his way through high school math so I picked up some stuff from him, but mostly I was just looking at the patterns in what you were doing. I wasn't really understanding the math, but everything you'd done up until then had followed a sort of pattern, then suddenly that little bit kind of went against the pattern. It jarred like a bad note in a piece of music. Do you know what I mean?"

"I certainly do. Math and music, huh? Listen, if your school doesn't start fast-tracking you into high school math pretty soon then that's virtually criminal as far as I'm concerned. If they won't do it, or they can't do it, then get your parents to enroll you into this course." He pointed at one class listed on the brochure. "It's essentially remedial high school math. Unfortunately some students come to us without having understood as much of the basics as they need to do our course. To help them along, we set up this one semester class which takes them back through everything they need to know about high school math. I suppose you could call it Calculus for Dummies."

He chuckled as if he'd made a joke. "I'm not trying to say you're a dummy or anything. I mean that... oh hell, I think you know what I mean."

I didn't really but, but I'd got the main part of what he was trying to say. "If you can manage to keep up, this class would be perfect for you. It goes for two and a half hours each Wednesday morning so it would be easy to schedule."

I was feeling a bit stunned. This man was actually trying to get me to enroll in a college course. I mumbled about having to talk to my parents and made my escape, tucking the brochure into my science book.

Since I still had about 20 minutes before I needed to be at the buses, I decided to take a detour through one of my favorite places on campus — the art department. I didn't get to visit Dan here very much, but when I did I always tried to walk through the art building if I possibly could. It was glorious. The walls were packed with examples of student art of every shape, size and style. Every spare corner contained some free-standing sculpture or other. I loved to just walk through it with my eyes wide open and take it all in. Not all of the art was all that good, but none of it was bad and it was all art.

I found myself stopped before a small collection of line drawings of people's faces, displayed on colored card. I stood there with a little small smile on my face and admired the work. Now these were good.

Someone drifted next to me and stood looking at the pictures with me. I glanced sideways and saw it was a girl, aged about twenty or so. She had bright red hair. I mean fire-truck red, not natural red. She had a nose stud and a ring through her eyebrow. She was wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a face on the front. I didn't recognize the face but I figured it was probably someone significant — significant in art that is. She was a bit taller than me, but not by much.

"So what is it about these pictures that drew you to them?" She asked the question exactly the same way Mom would have.

It sounded so normal that I forgot for a moment that I had no clue who she was, and just answered her the way I would answer Mom.

"All the faces have mixed emotions in them. Like that one is happy but tired. That older woman is looking sad, but kind of determined. I was just thinking how hard it is to capture that mixed emotion thing. The person who drew these has a style similar to mine, but they're better than me. I was just standing here, deciding I should keep practicing until I could draw like this."

"Not many people can draw as well as this. They're all by Arbena Satiri. She's one of our instructors. She's got an international reputation. We're pretty lucky to have her teaching here. I'm her PA so I'm extra lucky. So you draw, huh? Do you have anything of yours with you?"

I shook my head, then I remembered my science test. I'd folded it into the back of my science book so I could study for my re-test. I pulled it out and showed her the picture I'd drawn on the back. It was my drawing of post-epiphany me climbing out of the mirror.

"It's just a sketch."

She looked at it carefully. "I like this. I see what you mean about your style being like hers."

She pointed at the engineering brochure sticking out of my book. "If you can draw like this, then you shouldn't waste your time over on that side of the school. If you're here to investigate college credits, we have a three hour art class every Wednesday afternoon that's suitable for high school students to pick up."

"But I'm not..." I tried to interject but she rode over the top of me.

"Arbena teaches those classes so you'd get to work with her. You would need to bring a portfolio of your work to the interview before they'll enroll you. Just a minute and I'll dig out a brochure for the art department courses."

She walked over to a table and plucked a brochure from a display stand.

"Here you are. If you get started on the application in the next couple of weeks, you'll be able to start with the new semester in January. Good luck, I'm looking forward to seeing more work like this." She handed my science test back to me and I tucked it back inside my book. I put the art department brochure with the engineering one and made my escape.

I guess I didn't so much walk out of the art building as float out. This wasn't possible, was it? I mean this was like a fairy tale. It was as if someone had found out about my dream and rigged everything so it could happen. I mean I know it wasn't quite my dream, but it was pretty close. Surely they wouldn't accept me when they found out I was only thirteen, but Dan's lecturer had seemed to think that wouldn't be a problem. And Mom had said she would support me finding a proper art teacher. Would that support extend to letting me miss school every Wednesday so that I could do both high school math and art?

Inside of me, my heart was pumping at about a thousand times per minute and I felt so excited I could just about jump out of my skin. The outside of me was in a daze and just floated toward the buses with a stupid grin on my face. I didn't know how I was going to win this one — I'd have to convince my parents and my school and the college. I just knew there would be problems I hadn't thought about yet, but I also knew I wanted to do it. I wanted to be here. I belonged here.

I stood in the car park near the line-up of buses and let the crowd swirl around me. Many of them were wearing college jerseys and scarves. Just like me. Okay, none of them was wearing a jersey like a dress, and none of them had Freeman blazed across the back. But apart from that they were just like me.

This was a place where I fit right in.

I belonged right here.

Forget about that other stuff that happened this morning.

It didn't matter.

Today was a perfect day.



-------

Chapter 24 : Early Friday Evening

I climbed into the front bus and handed Professor Greenall the letter from Dad. Then I dropped myself into an empty seat two rows behind her and propped my science book open on my lap. The letter basically said that Dad gave permission for me to ride on the college booster buses to and from the game and made Professor Greenall my chaperone for the bus rides. It's one of the downsides of being a kid. There are so many stupid rules you have to keep following to do anything interesting. I mean I'm allowed to ride a city bus anytime I want, I can audit a college class and nobody raises an eyebrow, but I'm not allowed to ride on a college bus without a permission note and a chaperone. Go figure!

Other people were getting onto the bus, mostly college students, and chatting cheerfully as they made their way down the aisle and chose seats for themselves. I mostly ignored them and scanned over the pages of my science book. It really was straightforward stuff. I was annoyed with myself for not having remembered it properly during that test. I guess I had an excuse though. It puzzled me that my brain could normally understand and remember these things without any problem, but when things got a bit weird around home and in my life, suddenly it betrayed me and went all haywire.

Hopefully I was done getting shocks like that. I couldn't imagine anything else that I could ever learn would be as surprising as the things I'd learnt this week about my mother and myself.

A couple of young guys climbed onto the bus and handed a note to Professor Geenall. One of them was about a year older than me, the other one a couple of years younger. I'd seen them at games before, but steered clear of them. The way they acted together, I was pretty sure they were brothers. The older boy saw me sitting on my own and pushed his brother into the seat opposite mine so he could sit across the aisle from me. The younger boy was making farting sounds with his mouth. The older one leered at me, checking out my legs and making no attempt to hide the fact that he was thinking disgusting thoughts about me.

I ignored him and went back to my science book. Unfortunately that didn't last for long. There was a thump beside me and suddenly he was sitting right next to me. He sidled right up beside me and draped one arm over my shoulders.

"Hey, you're Becky, right? I'm Marvin. You and me should be friends."

"I don't think so." I grabbed his hand, which was dangling dangerously close to my boob — and yes it was on the side where I did have a boob — and dragged his arm off me. I dropped his hand in his own lap before focusing back on my book. Half unconsciously, I raised one hand and gripped the lump on my chest where Nana's locket lay against my skin. The solid weight of it drove away any doubts I had about my ability to fend off this lecherous jerk.

"Aw, don't be like that." He reached out and this time put his hand on my knee, squeezing it and using his fingers to stroke my skin. Then he started to slide his hand up my leg. I grabbed his pinky finger in my fist and bent it back until his hand came up off my knee. The creep cried out in alarm as he realized I could easily hurt him badly like that. Dan had once shown me how to do this. He warned me not to do it too fast or too hard unless I wanted to break the guy's finger. The good thing, Dan had told me, was that I could do this against a bigger person and it would still work. This jerk wasn't much bigger than me but it worked like a charm.

While the creep was focused on what I was doing to his hand I suddenly rammed my whole body sideways — effectively doing a hip and shoulder slam right into his side. I know I'm a girl, and I'm a bit smaller than him, but I'm not fragile. I play a lot of sports, and girls basketball isn't really a gentle sport. I've also been wrestling with Dan and Tara since I was ... well, since forever. What I'm trying to say is that when I say I slammed into him as hard as I could, it wasn't just a little girly bump. Marvin squarked as he flew sideways off the bench seat. Then he dropped onto his ass on the floor of the aisle with a very satisfying thump. Fortunately the little arm rest on the seat had been folded up, or that move wouldn't have worked nearly as well.

I kept sliding sideways to occupy the aisle seat, and leaned over so I could hiss in his ear. "If you lay another finger on me, I'll break it off. Do we have an understanding?"

Marvin glared at me from his position on the floor. He was wringing his hand where I'd bent his finger and was looking pretty unhappy. I glared right back until, after a moment, he looked away. Then he sulkily hauled himself back into his original seat. His brother had watched him all this time and laughed at Marvin as he slunk back to his own seat. Marvin growled something and the laugh disappeared from the brother's face like it had been wiped away with a washcloth.

I looked forward in time to see Professor Greenall turn back. She'd obviously turned around to see what the disturbance was and had decided she didn't need to interfere. While I was looking, the last few people climbed onto the bus, including a boy just a year or so older than me. He handed a note to Professor Greenall and dropped into the seat directly behind her and in front of me.

Lance Jenkins was the brother of the captain. He was blond and blue-eyed and very athletic. I figured he would be playing high school football himself in a year or so. He and I had been introduced once and since then we'd kind of nodded to each other or said "hi" every time we saw each other at a game.

As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, I thought about Dan's suggestion that I should practice talking to boys and being friendly to them. It seemed to me that since Lance and I were both stuck on this bus for a little while, it was a good opportunity for me to do that. Also if I sat next to Lance, then that might make Marvin leave me alone. The only problem with that plan was that last time I'd gone up and started talking to a boy I'd had Liz with me. This time I was all on my own. I hesitated for a bit, then grabbed my locket. I wasn't on my own — I had Mom and Nana with me.

Probably looking a whole lot more confident than I really was, I stood up and slid into the seat next to Lance. We said "hi" to each other. I then hesitantly started talking to him about the upcoming game. He smiled at me and responded. Soon we were chatting away. We talked about the game and about our brothers. I found out that he was a freshman at his high school. He played baseball in spring and junior varsity football in fall and was hoping to make both the varsity football and baseball teams next year.

He found out that I was in middle school and he didn't immediately start treating me like a kid, so I figured he got points for that. He found out that I played basketball and I liked art and was good at math and science. He said he wasn't so good at those subjects but that he did okay. It was nice just talking to him. I didn't feel as if I was under any pressure to, like, make a lasting friendship with him or anything. After all we probably would never see each other again after this evening. So it was nice just talking.

One thing I found out about from Lance was that tonight's game was important to both schools for an entirely unexpected reason. Apparently the two schools had a special connection going — especially between their sports teams. It started about five years before when a boy from our area, who was a pretty good football player, had moved right after high school and ended up attending their college. He and his high school sweetheart had kept up their relationship, driving back and forth to see each other as often as they could. His girlfriend had gone to our school (I mean my brother's school) and was a cheerleader. Most of our team at the time had known this boy from high school, either from playing with him or against him.

A few days before the two teams were due to play each other, the two lovers had been killed in an auto accident. The game had been postponed. About half our college, including every single lettered student had made the drive to attend the football player's funeral. The locals had been pretty moved by that, and the following day just as many of them had turned up at the cheerleader's funeral. The following week, our team had a bye, so every player from our team, plus all the cheerleaders, had driven up and sat in the stands in their full uniforms to support their team. Their cheerleaders had invited our girls out to join them at half time and the combined group had done a couple of unrehearsed routines together.

When the postponed game was played midweek a couple of weeks later, it was standing room only in the bleachers. The two teams and the cheerleaders all mingled together and stood as one group while they had a minute's silence for their dead friends. Ever since then, the two schools have maintained a very friendly rivalry on the field in all the different sports they compete in. They also support each other off the field in many different ways. For example, when our cheerleaders lost some equipment due to a fire, all their cheerleaders turned up and helped run the fundraising activities to replace the lost equipment. The two baseball teams got in on the act by taking turns hosting a friendly game each pre-season as a fundraiser for kids injured in auto accidents.

Remember these aren't big, famous schools or anything. Just two community colleges competing in third division competitions with whatever students happen to enroll. I listened to this story and decided that after hearing so much on TV about what was wrong with this country that it was nice to be reminded that there was a lot right with it as well.

-------

I stood at the front of the bleachers, scanning for a good spot to sit. Then I spotted Pearl, Faith and Danielle all waving at me. I waved back to them and headed up the stairs to join them. Pearl had saved me a seat next to her. I said hi and found myself being given quick hugs and kisses by all three of them. I wasn't expecting that after only having met them last night, but we had spent a lot of time together at the game and after it, so I guess we were kind of friends. Pearl offered to put my science book in her bag since I didn't have anywhere else to put it. I'd planned to sit on it so I accepted gratefully. Pearl's bag was a big one. It was crammed full with drinks and snacks and even a blanket in case she got cold.

We sat and leaned together so we could talk.

"You know the most fascinating thing happened at lunch time today," said Pearl.

"Oh really? Do tell." I responded, thinking this was an odd way to start a conversation.

"Well there we were, minding our own business, when suddenly this mountain of a man was standing right beside our table."

I nodded at her to get her to keep going, I still hadn't figured out what this was about.

It was Faith who picked up the story though. "It seems a certain school jock had gotten sick of sitting with all the other jocks and wanted to sit with us."

Okay, now I figured out what this was about. I'd actually forgotten!!

"It really was quite a surprise," added Danielle. "I didn't think the jocks even knew we existed. We decided this one was probably lost, or maybe a little bit cracked in the head. Why else would he want to sit with us?"

I giggled at that. "It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. You know those football types. They spend half their lives running head first into each other. That's just got to shake their brains around, at least a bit. Danielle, did this particular half-addled jock manage to remember that he was supposed to give you a message?"

Danielle gave me a warm, friendly smile. "He did manage to mumble something that sounded a bit like a message. I told him it really wasn't necessary."

I reached out a hand to her, leaning across Pearl to do so. Danielle gripped my hand in hers. "I really am sorry that I hurt you last night. I could see how much it upset you. I wanted Dan to tell you because I didn't know if I would see you again."

She squeezed my hand, then let go. "Don't worry about me. I get all emotional when I think about things like that, but these days I get over it fairly quickly."

Faith nodded at me. "She really does. When I first met her, Danielle would get all miserable for days over every little thing. Nowadays, the small stuff doesn't shake her at all and when she does get upset about something, she has a little cry then she's over it and ready for something new." The pride for her girlfriend was clear in everything she said.

Danielle turned and looked straight into Faith's eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet — only just loud enough for me to hear. "It's all thanks to you. I owe you so much."

Then they kissed each other. It was gentle and passionate. The love between the two of them was obvious. It was beautiful. After a moment they broke off the kiss and cuddled together looking toward Pearl and me with smiles on their faces.

Pearl turned back to me. "Before we got sidetracked by that little display of schmaltz, we were talking about a certain football player sitting with us at lunchtime today. We didn't finish telling you the story."

"Oh really?" I raised my eyebrows at her.

"He suggested that I might like to come and watch the game this evening. Since you would be watching it on your own, he thought you might enjoy having me sit here with you."

I smiled at her. "He can be sweet like that sometimes. Thanks for coming. It's great sitting here with the three of you."

"But she hasn't told you the best part yet," giggled Faith.

"Yes indeed. For some strange reason, your brother invited me to go get some pizza with him after the game. It sounded suspiciously like a date."

"Of course, she said yes," broke in Danielle.

"Actually I didn't say anything of the sort. My friends took it upon themselves to say yes for me." Pearl gave her friends a mock scowl. They just laughed at her.

"What has me puzzled is why Dan would ever have asked me in the first place. I'm certainly nothing like the girls he usually dates. I was wondering if maybe you had anything to do with this."

"Who me? I would never! Dan doesn't ask me for dating advice."

"Is that so? It's just that when I wanted to know why he was asking me out, he said that I came highly recommended by someone whose opinion he had the greatest respect for. I kind of assumed that was you."

"Well I might have dropped a subtle hint or two," I admitted with a giggle. "And when I realized he wasn't getting my hints, I might have thumped him with a baseball bat a couple of times. Just to get his attention, you understand?"

"I understand perfectly," responded Pearl with a smile. "I don't know what I've done to gain your support, but thank you."

I shrugged. "It's just pizza after the game. It's up to you and Dan if it goes any further. If Dan likes you, you'll know it. He doesn't do subtle. He won't pretend to like you just to please me."

"Okay, I can live with that."

At that moment I saw a familiar figure walking along the path in front of the bleachers looking for a seat. It was Dad. I jumped out of my seat and waved at him. He didn't see me, so I yelled out "Dad!" Several older guys sitting in the stands turned to look at me, then turned away. Lots of dads around apparently, but the one I wanted still hadn't found me. In the end, I had to yell out "Peter Freeman" to get his attention. It felt really strange to yell his name like that, like I was another person instead of his daughter.

Dad finally heard me and came up the stairs to join me. He was still wearing his suit and tie from work, so I figured he must have driven straight here from the power station. The girls and I all crammed up a bit on the bench to make space for him to sit next to me. I told Dad I was happy to see him and he said he wasn't sure if he was going to make it in time for the start of the game which is why I had to come by bus. I introduced my dad to the others and said they were friends of Dan from his school. Dad wanted to ask me about my day, but I quickly changed the subject to the basketball game we'd seen last night, because that way I could include the other girls in the conversation.

"Now what are those two up to?" said Dad, interrupting our conversation.

We looked in the direction he was looking and saw Dan and Al Jenkins, the team captain, walking along the front of the bleachers looking up into the crowd. They were both in their full game kit, except for their helmets. It was nearly time for the teams to run out onto the ground so they shouldn't be out here walking around like they were. At that moment Dan saw us and pointed straight at us. He and Al then climbed up the steps towards us. As they came towards us, people in the crowd were calling out to them and they shook hands with quite a few people as they climbed the steps. A couple of college girls even gave them quick hugs, but the two boys quickly brushed them aside and headed towards us.

There were some quick hellos and handshakes and introductions — polite but rushed. Then Al looked directly at me.

"I hear that someone is having a birthday this Sunday."

I nodded, wondering why he would take the time so close before a game to come and talk to me about that.

"Our normal water boy has mono and we don't want to let him anywhere near our drinks. We asked around the team for suggestions and a few different guys suggested you. Kind of like a birthday thing, you know? From the team — to say happy birthday."

"Huh?" I think I understood what he was saying, but I wanted him to say it again just before I made a complete idiot out of myself. Oh, wait. Maybe I just did that by sounding stupid — damn.

"We want you to be our water boy for the game."

"Uh, okay. I mean thanks. I'd love to. Um, thanks for thinking of me."

"Well, come on. We need to show you your stuff and get you set up and we have to get back inside."

"Sure." I was trying to stay cool on the outside, but the inside of me was jumping up and down and screaming. I was going to be right at the edge of the field, in amongst the team, for the entire game!! OH MY GOD!!!

I turned to Pearl and her friends and muttered quick apologies. I felt bad because I'd promised to sit with them but now I wasn't going to. They shushed me and told me to go enjoy myself.

Dad had stood up so I could get out. I leaned close to him and said in a whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, "Enjoy talking to the pretty girls, Dad. But keep your hands to yourself or I'll tell Mom and then you'd be in a world of trouble." Everyone laughed, even Dad. I like these people, they get my jokes.

I followed the two guys down the stairs to the front of the bleachers and then through the little gate out onto the grass. They introduced me to one of the assistant coaches then disappeared back into the rooms to rejoin their team. The assistant coach's name was Arnie and he was trying to be nice but he seemed a bit stressed. He took me to the table where the drinks were waiting to be set up and ran through what I had to do. It was mostly set up already. I just had to keep things organized during the game and have some filled cups waiting each time a group came off the field.

During all this time, the other school's marching band had been parading around doing their thing. I hadn't paid much attention to them. I guess I'd had more important things on my mind. What they did next grabbed my attention. They'd split into two equal groups and the group closest to our side of the field suddenly flipped their cloaks inside out and we saw they had our colors on the inside of their cloaks. Half their band had suddenly literally become turncoats. That half played a verse of our school song. That got enormous cheers from the bleachers behind me. Then the other half played a verse of their school song. Then they both started playing at the same time. I don't know how they did it, but the two half-bands were playing the two school songs simultaneously and it all melded together into one piece of music. At the same time they all slowly marched back together until the whole band was together in the center of the field with alternating cloaks. All the time they were playing this weird mixture of the two school songs, and it never seemed to clash. The two tunes somehow supported and reinforced each other. By this time the entire crowd on both sides of the field were standing and clapping.

Then they did something even more amazing. A third tune appeared out of the middle of the melded music. I think it started with just a single trumpet player, breaking free from the final verse of the two songs. Then others joined in and soon the new tune soared out over the closing phrases of the school songs. Without any noticeable transition, the entire band was playing the new tune. It was "America the Beautiful" and the entire crowd, already on their feet, started singing along with the band. It was awesome. It was mind-blowing. It sent shivers right through me. Dad always says you haven't lived until you've stood in an English soccer stadium and heard the crowd singing. If what Dad's talking about is anything more awesome than that then I don't know if I'd be able to stand it.



And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea!



As the last phrase rang out, the singing dissolved into cheering and whistling and clapping. The band stood perfectly still in the middle of the field as the crowd roared out its approval. There had been nothing subtle about the symbolism. It was in your face. I don't think anyone could have missed it. Two schools joining together in brotherhood. As American as apple pie!

Just as the noise of the crowd started to die out, the band split again and moved towards each side of the field. The ones wearing cloaks with our colors came right over to our bleachers and to where our cheerleaders were already lined up waiting for our team to run out. The two bands then simultaneously played fanfares to announce the teams. This time, they didn't meld. Each half played its own fanfare and they competed with each other, brash and loud, hurling their musical challenges across the field at their band mates on the other side. The cheerleaders were whirling and pom-pomming (is that a word?) and the roar of the crowd swelled again as the two teams ran out onto the field.

In most games the two teams keep away from each before the game starts, but this time every single player ran directly to the center of the field where they all started shaking hands with each other. I couldn't hear what was being said, but there were quite a few slaps on shoulders and friendly greetings. Then they separated and it was all business from then on.

After all the usual preliminaries were finished, the umpires blew their whistles and it was game-on.

Living in a house with Dan and Dad I thought I was used to being around big guys. Standing on the sidelines surrounded by the shifting numbers of footballers not currently on the field, I realized I was only half right. Dan is a big guy, but not the biggest on the team. Those linemen are like walking mountains. And with all the guys wearing their pads, that only makes them bigger. I felt like a midget standing amongst them. I felt like Gulliver must have done when he landed in the country of the giants. I'm not complaining by the way. I was thrilled to be there. It was like I was filled with bubbles that were pressing everywhere against the inside of my skin. It was all I could do to stop them from bursting out of me. It was all I could do stop from jumping up and down and shrieking like a little girl. I stood amongst these guys and tried to act cool. I doubt if I managed to hide my enormous grin though.

In the opening part of the game, nobody needed any drinks so I didn't have anything to do but stand amongst these guys and hang out. They all knew me and knew why I was there so I got a lot of greetings and quite a few high fives. Mostly though, they were focused on the game. They were watching the plays, watching the opposition players, trying to pick where their problems would come from.

We had the kick off, so the first main set of plays was their offense driving up the field and our defense trying to stop them. The noise when two guys in pads and helmets hit each other is a bit scary. The noise when an entire line of scrimmage smashes into each other is even worse. I'd thought it was bad when I was sitting in the bleachers. Standing by the sidelines, the noise sounded so much worse. I'm pretty sure I flinched every time. After one particularly loud crash, I felt a large hand grab mine. I turned and saw Dan sitting on one of a row of seats along with several of his teammates. He pulled on my hand firmly until I ended up sitting in his lap. He wrapped his big arms around me and squeezed me a bit.

"I've told you before, the noise is mostly from the pads and the helmets hitting each other. That's what they're for. Mostly those sorts of hits don't hurt at all, so stop fretting."

"Okay, I'll try." I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on his cheek. "That's for luck."

Al Jenkins, sitting next to Dan, saw me do that and grinned at me. "We could all use some of that sort of luck."

I didn't hesitate. I just leaned over from my position on Dan's knee and kissed his cheek as well. I wished him good luck and giggled a bit. Then I giggled some more as half the offensive team started asking for their share of luck. I decided I didn't have anything better to do right then, so I hopped off Dan's knee and worked my way down the line of guys, giving them each a kiss on the cheek and solemnly wishing them good luck. It was fun. It was hard not to laugh at these enormous guys getting all silly about getting a little peck on the cheek before they ran onto the field.

Our attention was drawn back to the game because one of our cornerbacks was able to scoop up a fumble and trundle a few yards downfield before he was forced out of bounds. The offensive team put their helmets on and ran onto the field, exchanging high fives with the defense as they trooped off. A few of the guys scooped up one of the paper cups I'd set out on my drinks table and walked off as they drained the cup. I was shocked when they just dropped the empty cup on the ground and started to walk off. Obviously they expected someone else to pick up after them. Was that me? Was it my job to crawl around and pick up the discarded cups? Hmmm. What would Mom do?

The answer had me moving before the thought had made its way to the front of my brain. I scooped up an empty basin and marched down to where the defensive team were gathering to watch the next play. I stopped just short of the discarded cups.

"HEY! CARTER, JOHNSON, MAKERVICH, WHAT'S WITH THE LITTERING?" I decided it was useful that they had their names on their shirts. "DO YOU THINK I'M YOUR MOTHER THAT I'M GOING TO CRAWL AROUND AND PICK UP AFTER YOU?"

I was prepared to keep going at them, but they looked all shamefaced and shuffled back to the cups they'd dropped. I closed my mouth and just kept glaring at them as I held out the basin. They picked up the discarded cups and dropped them in my basin, with a few muttered apologies. There was some good natured chuckling at the three red-faced defenders so I gave them a pert little smile and turned back to the drinks table. I quickly filled and set out some fresh cups and put the basin in an obvious place for the discards.

I stood beside my table and watched the game. During the next few downs, a few of the defensive team wandered over to claim a drink. I made sure to stare at them and tap the discards basin meaningfully. They all got the hint pretty quickly and disposed of their used cups properly. I grinned quietly to myself and said a silent word of thanks to my mother for teaching me by her example all those important life skills, like how to get a guy to do what you want him to do.

Arnie, the assistant coach, wandered over to me and chuckled, saying, "I think we should have signed you up earlier in the season. It seems a shame to have left it to the last game before someone whipped these louts into shape. You just made my day."

I grinned at Arnie, then went back to watching the game. I love coming to watch Dan play, but he's a tight end. That means virtually every time he gets the ball, he's right in the middle of a pack of defenders. That means he nearly always gets crunched pretty much as soon as he gets the ball. From this distance, those crunches sounded pretty bad. I know Dan said not to fret because the noise was just the padding, but I've seen the bruises on his back and legs after a hard game. He obviously enjoys the game, but when he says that getting smashed like that doesn't hurt, I just flat out don't believe him. Mind you, I've found bruises on myself after a basketball game that I didn't remember getting, so maybe he's telling the truth.

Eventually our drive up the field got stopped. It was well within kicking range though so the team set up for a field goal attempt. My view was suddenly blocked by the kicker standing in front of me. He said, "I'm here for my good luck kiss" and leaned down towards me. I grinned and puckered up to kiss him on the cheek when suddenly his lips got in the way and we were kissing — as in, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, kissing! It didn't last long. One second we were kissing, the next second he was running onto the field to take his kick at goal. I stood there blinking in surprise. My body was full of tingles.

I wasn't sure, but I was thinking maybe I'd just had my first proper kiss.

I was still trying to figure that out when suddenly I was being kissed again. It seems the defensive team had found out they could get a kiss "for luck" and assumed that since the kicker had kissed me on the lips then that's what they got to do too. I was feeling a bit spaced out, all these guys were lining up and kissing me, one after another. How many players are there on a football team? I think I kissed them all. I'm not sure but I suspect more than a couple snuck back for a second go. I desperately needed to sit down. I hadn't just had my first proper kiss — I'd had my first fifty proper kisses, all with different guys, all in the middle of a football game, all in the space of about twenty minutes, all in front of a crowd of thousands of people...

Including my dad — woops!

My confused senses made me feel as if time had completely stopped. Time hadn't stopped. They didn't even stop the game for all of this to happen. I guess I was expecting any second that an umpire would throw up a flag and come over to penalize me for illegal lip action or something. That didn't happen. We scored the field goal, then they scored a touch down, then they scored a field goal, then we scored a touch down. The end of the first quarter happened somewhere in the middle of all that.

I had to train the offensive team not to drop their cups on the ground. Fortunately I didn't have to yell, like I'd had to at the defensive team. It did involve a little bit of standing with my hands on my hips in front of them and glaring at them, well — glaring up at them. Once I had their attention, just a few quiet instructions and they were all thoughtfully disposing of their used cups in the receptacle provided — just like those signs say. I never had to say anything to the special team guys, maybe they're a bit smarter or something. They just watched what was going on and promptly did the right thing. That all happened back in the first quarter.

I'm sorry if I'm all confused about time. I think I was a bit spaced out with all the kissing. And I was a bit excited about just being there. Oh God! I hope I wasn't being painful. I never want Dan to be embarrassed about having me hanging around. I never, ever want to be that annoying little sister that he wants to get rid of. I don't think he was embarrassed about all the kissing. He was kind of laughing about it. The guys all clapped and laughed and whistled when he came up and got a second kiss from me. I kissed him on the mouth just like I kissed all the others. Everyone cheered. I did a little curtsy to them all. I only blushed a little bit. That might have been at the quarter.

As well as the cups, we had a big ice box full of bottled sports drinks. At around the end of the first quarter, most of the guys started raiding the box for a bottle. Most of them didn't finish the drinks straight away, they just swallowed a few mouthfuls then did the tops back up and put them next to their chairs or whatever. I watched carefully and when I saw a couple of guys empty their bottles I trotted over to them with a black garbage bag for them to drop their empties in. I figured I'd find a recycling station later for all the empty drink bottles.

As the second quarter began, I had to give out more kisses — I'm making it sound like a chore but it wasn't. I was having so much fun. My lips got all dry though. Fortunately I was standing right next to a table full of drinks so that was easy to fix. One of their wide receivers, standing just near us in his position on the field and waiting for the next play to start, saw what was going on and called out. "Hey, do I get a kiss?"

I pointed across the field and told him, "You have your own water boy. Go to talk to him."

The wide receiver looked where I was pointing at the skinny teenage guy manning their drinks table and shuddered. "I think I'll just have to do without."

Everyone laughed.

When our guys scored their touchdown, they did this little hip-wriggling dance that they always do. It's not always exactly the same, but it's never very original. When they came back to collect their drinks I made some comment about how they should try to do a different dance next time. They nodded and someone said "like what?"

I shrugged. "Like anything! Just change it up each time for a bit of fun. The Can-Can would be easy." I spent the next couple of minutes teaching the guys how to line up and do Can-Can style kicks.

I realize that from reading all this, it might give the impression that everyone was just mucking about and nobody was taking the game very seriously. Far from it! Every time they ran onto the field, the jokes stopped and they were intensely into the game. I don't think a single tackle was made at less than full strength. It was friendly though too. In a lot of games you see some player get all "het up" and do some pushing and shoving at whoever just tackled them. That didn't happen at all. Most times after the play was over, they helped each other back up and slapped each other on the back before running back to their own teams.

Just before half time, their wide receiver — the same one who'd asked for a kiss before — caught a pass and ran up the side line. He'd already gotten past our cornerback but one of our linebackers came flying across to tackle him right in front of us. Just before the tackle connected, the wide receiver jumped up, trying to jump right over the tackle. Unfortunately he didn't jump high enough and our linebacker connected at about his knees, causing the wide receiver to flip right over. He came crashing onto the ground right in front of me. I had a close-up view of him crashing into the ground. He seemed to land on his left arm first and I heard a most horrible cracking sound just an instant before the solid thump of him landing.

He immediately gave this muffled scream and rolled over. He sat up and in the instant before he clutched his left arm into his chest, I could clearly see his arm had an odd looking lump just under the wrist. I felt sick to my stomach. I was pretty sure the noise I'd heard was his wrist breaking. Our linebacker got to his feet and asked if he was okay. He didn't get an immediate reply so I told him to get their trainer. He turned around and made some signals across the field. I knelt down beside the wide receiver and told him to just sit still and that help was coming. I could see he'd tried to spit his mouthguard out and it was all caught up on the grid of his helmet so I reached in and hooked it out with my fingers so it could dangle at the end of its little cord. Then I told him to hold still while I carefully unbuckled his helmet and slid it off his head.

I asked the wide receiver what his name was and he told me it was Joe. His skin, which was normally a dark brown color, was almost grey and was covered with a thin film of sweat. A damp towel was pressed into my hand. I looked up and saw Dan so I nodded at him, then I turned and carefully wiped Joe's face for him.

By this time, our trainer had come running up and there was a little crowd of players from both teams surrounding us. Our trainer knelt next to me and I told him to check Joe's wrist and that it was probably broken. He nodded and looked carefully at Joe's arm without touching him. Arnie started telling the other players to move back and give everyone some room. The players all moved off and stood in little huddles. The umpires had obviously called a time out because no one looked in a hurry to start the next play. The trainer had pulled a wrap-around splint and a sling out of his bag and started talking to Joe.

The other team's trainer turned up and the two trainers had a fast discussion with each other, then with Joe, about what they were going to do. Then the two of them worked together to hold the arm steady while they checked the arm all the way up to the shoulder. Then they wrapped the splint around the forearm and supported it in the sling. There wasn't any blood, which was a good thing for me because it made me feel woozy just seeing the big lump under the skin. I bit my lip and refused to allow my brain to faint on me. It would be just way too embarrassing to faint right there. I clenched my teeth hard and the fuzzy feelings in my brain gave up and went away.

Joe swore a couple of times during all of that. When it was over, he looked at me and apologized for the "French." I told him that was okay because I spoke that sort of French too, which got half a smile from him. Then I wiped his face again because it had gotten all sweaty once more. Al Jenkins came up with a blanket around about then and wrapped it around Joe's shoulders. Since I was right there, I helped adjust it around the front so it wouldn't fall off him.

The doctor came up about then and he was puffing a bit from running across the field. The trainers talked about a "distal radius fracture" and the doctor took about half a second to look at the arm in its splint before nodding. He checked Joe's eyes and asked how he was feeling and all that. Joe asked for some water and I checked with the doctor who said it was okay so I went to get some water except Dan shoved a cup into my hand before I'd even moved. I carefully held it so that Joe could drink, then I passed the empty cup back to Dan.

Joe thanked me and I leaned over and kissed his cheek. He kind of half-grinned at me and made some comment about how he'd got his kiss after all, but he was obviously still in a fair bit of pain. The doctor put a brightly colored tube in his mouth and told him to suck on it, saying it would help with the pain. I think it had some sort of gas in it but I'm not sure. The effect was pretty quick. You could almost see the pain draining away from Joe's face.

The two trainers helped Joe to his feet and they all started walking slowly across the field, escorted by the doctor. I watched them go for a second then I realized that Joe's helmet was still sitting on the ground beside me, so I picked it up and trotted after them. I asked Joe if he wanted his helmet but he asked me to carry it for him. So there I was walking over the middle of the field trailing after Joe and the two trainers and the doctor.

The crowd on both sides of the field had gone quiet when they realized he was hurt. Now they clapped as he walked across the field. Even the players were clapping. They were obviously glad to see him up and walking but concerned to see his arm in a sling. When we got to the other side of the field Joe, the trainers and the doctor headed immediately into the tunnel. One of their coaches came up to me and took Joe's helmet from me. He thanked me for looking after Joe and shook my hand.

Whistles blew behind me and I turned around to see they were setting up the line of scrimmage ready to start the game up again. I sighed, thinking I'd have to walk all the way around the outside of the field to get back to where I was supposed to be. The coach told me to just wait where I was, since it would be half-time in about two plays. So I stood there on the sideline and watched.

I must have stood out. I was the only one wearing the "away team" jersey on that side of the field. Players kept coming up to me to thank me for looking after Joe. It was a bit embarrassing. All I'd done was take off his helmet and give him a drink. But it was nice too. They were all really friendly. When they worked out I was wearing my brother's jersey and number, they told me how they respected Dan as an opponent because he was tough to play against but fair. I guess you can't ask for a better compliment for a football player than that. Of course, I could listen to them saying good things about Dan all day.

The half time horn sounded with the score locked at 10-10. The two teams started heading into their rooms and the marching band started making noises like it wanted to take over the field. Their captain, Vince, offered to walk me back across the field. I mean, it's not as if I was going to get lost, but I figured he was being polite so I said thanks. As we walked across the field, Vince asked me what I thought about being the water girl. I laughed and said I'd been calling myself the water boy all evening and he was the first person to make a comment about it. I had to explain how the normal water boy was sick and I was just filling in for him and the team had asked me to do the job because it was my birthday on Sunday. He wished me happy birthday, which was nice of him. By then, we were across the other side and Al came over to talk to Vince. I went off to tidy up my drinks table and Vince and Al started chatting with each other.

While I was working at the drinks table, my brain kind of ran a replay of what had been going on during the first half. I was astonished at what I'd been doing. I'd been kissing boys and ordering them around and looking after someone who was injured and doing an important job and all the time, I was wearing a football jersey like a dress. It was just as well it was a mild night or my legs and arms would have gotten really cold by now.

I was feeling a bit tired though.

I sat down in one of the line up of chairs and decided to rest for a moment. Maybe if I closed my eyes, just for a moment...

I didn't get to rest for long though, because Arnie came up to me before I had even closed my eyes and told me to follow him. He took me down the tunnel and into the team rooms. I was a bit doubtful about going into the guys changing rooms, but Arnie told me not to worry. The whole team was in there, plus the cheerleaders and the coaches and a few others. When I came into the room, they all cheered and I was dragged into the middle. Al came and stood next to me and made a little speech that basically said that since I'd become one of the team, I should have my own jersey. Everyone clapped and cheered and Al presented me with a jersey that had the number 87.1 on it and also "Bec Freeman" on the back. I found out later they were just iron-on letters and Arnie had put them all on in the last ten minutes. I asked about the number and Al said it was a bit of a computer joke. Apparently when a new and better version of a computer program gets released they use the same number but put a point one on the end of it. By giving me Dan's number with the extra point one added to it, they were trying to say I was a newer and better version of Dan. I guess it was a good joke once you get it, but I didn't think it was very accurate. I mean I might be newer than Dan, but I'm certainly not better — especially when it comes to football.

They persuaded me to put it on straight away. I blushed a bit when I pulled the old jersey off. I guess it was just as well I was wearing shorts and a shirt underneath or I wouldn't have been able to do that in front of all those people. I put the new jersey on and I found out it was a bit smaller than Dan's old one. It was still way to large for me across the shoulders and around the chest but it only went half way down my thighs instead of all the way to my knees. Since it was still longer than the shorts, it still looked like I was wearing a dress and nothing else, but this dress was shorter. I don't think I would have liked to wear a dress that short if I hadn't been wearing shorts underneath. I wasn't complaining though. I certainly felt special in my very own jersey. Dan showed me where his bag was and I put his old jersey in there. I didn't want to lose it.

At that moment, Al came up to me with a big grin on his face. "Now all you need is a helmet and you'll be ready to play. Try this one on for size." Then he handed me a helmet. Half the team was standing around, watching, with big grins on their faces.

"Huh? What's going on?"

"André pulled a calf muscle. We need you to go on for him."

"What? I can't go on. I'd get squashed like a bug. I'm not even on the team."

"Of course you're on the team. I just gave you your jersey and everything. Without André we're pretty desperate. We need you. Now put your helmet on and let's get out there and play."

Dan took the helmet out of my hands and slid it onto my head. I started to protest but he just grabbed the mouthguard and shoved it in my mouth. That shut me up. I hope it was clean. It tasted like disinfectant so I guess it probably was clean. He buckled the helmet onto me and whispered, "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

Then he gripped one elbow and Al grabbed my other elbow and we started jogging out of the room. The entire team followed, hooting and bellowing. As we ran onto the field, they let go of my elbows but I didn't dare stop running because there was a whole team-full of guys running just behind me and if I'd stopped I would have been flatter than a pancake before I could even draw a breath.

The other team was running out at the same time and the umpires were waiting in the middle. I could hear the ground announcer informing the crowed that the replacement for André Prasser was number 87.1, Bec Freeman. I blushed underneath my helmet when the crowd all cheered.

The other side had set up a line of scrimmage at about the 30 yard line. We huddled and Al told me to line up next to Dan as a second tight end. Then after the snap Dan would run past Al and I was to follow him and take the ball. Then I had to keep following Dan around past the blockers until I got free.

As we all walked up to the line of scrimmage, I spoke quickly to Dan. "How is this happening? I don't understand how this can happen."

"Sometimes you worry too much." I could see him grinning behind his helmet. "Now just shut up and let's play some football."

Everyone on the line of scrimmage went down into their standard squat. Then I figured something out. I thought I knew what was going on, so I figured I might just as well go along with it.

I shook my head then squatted down next to Dan. I could hear lots of comments going back and forth. Some of the linemen were making all sorts of threats to their opposing number about how this time they were really going to get it. I hoped they didn't really mean it. The game had been friendly up to this point. I was right next to Dan and there was nobody directly in front of me. I was kind of grateful for that because I was getting that feeling again of being like Gulliver in the land of the giants. Having to face off against one of these huge guys would have been just too scary for words.

Our center called out the usual sequence and then snapped the ball to Al. Immediately everyone started moving. The two lines collided but it wasn't the enormous crash like normal, it was more like a gentle thwack. Dan started running behind the line towards Al and I followed along behind. I could hear the crowd cheering in the bleachers and wondered what they were thinking of all of this.

I could hear the linemen growling and roaring at each other. They didn't normally do that and I thought maybe they were only pretending because no one seemed to be really pushing very hard or anything. Then I was beside Al and he shoved the ball firmly into my arms. I grabbed it and suddenly something clicked in my head. I guess it was from years of playing basketball or something but having the ball in my hands took me from being in a bit of a daze to fully alert. I was conscious of where all the players were and the line Dan was showing me to run. I'd seen him run this same play in countless games, so I knew exactly where I was supposed to run. I ran.

I saw Vince in front of me, looking as wide as a house and I wondered if I was supposed to run around him, but then Dan was there and the two of them ran at each other. Just before they hit, they both propped and jumped up, bashing their chests against each other like they were a couple of guys at a school dance.

I ran past them and started heading for the end zone. I could hear the ground commentator yelling as he described the action. In front of me were a couple of linebackers. It seemed like this was as far as I was going because I doubted if I could run around both of them. I decided this had been fun and that I would just run straight into them. Hopefully they would take pity on me and not hurt me too much. I put my head down and ran straight at them. I was clenching my teeth inside the mouth guard.

Oh god, oh god, oh god ... this is gonna hurt!

Then just as I got to them, suddenly they both leaped back and to the sides. I think they must have planned it because I never touched them, but from a distance it must have looked like tiny little me had run into the two of them and sent them both flying. I could hear laughter and cheering coming from behind me.

I ran faster.

In front of me, I could see just one more player, the safety. I angled to run to one side of him and then I veered around until I went to his other side. One advantage of being so much smaller is I can change direction faster than these guys. Okay, he might not have been trying very hard, but it still felt like I beat him fair and square.

I ran and I ran.

Glancing behind me I could see the mixture of the two teams running after me, but I was well clear of all of them. My heart was pumping a mile a minute. My senses were on hyper alert. I had the ball firmly in my hands and my feet were flying.

And then, there it was — the end zone.

With the crowd roaring and the announcer screaming and the two teams yelling, I ran onto the painted grass and jumped high in the air, waving the ball above my head in glee.

The umpire blew his whistle and held his arms up high.

I threw my head back and screamed out my joy.

TOUCHDOWN!!!

"TOUCHDOWN," screamed the announcer.

"TOUCHDOWN," screamed the crowd.

: : :

"Okay," whispered a little part of my brain. "Now would be a good time to wake up."

I watched my huge teammates thundering towards me.

Come on brain ... now would be a good time to wake up!

My teammates ran up and surrounded me, Dan and Al at the front of the crowd. They grabbed me and hugged me and lifted me up in the air.

Huh?

I'll say that again, they grabbed me and hugged me.

They didn't hurt me but they grabbed me and held me hard enough for me to know that I'd been thoroughly hugged.

I felt every arm, every squeeze.

I was awake.

It was all real.

I really was standing in the end zone holding the ball.

I really was.

: : :

What the... ?

: : :

The insides of my brain were whirling in confusion. How could this have not been a dream? The team was lining up each side of me. Dan was right next to me, one of his arms firmly around my waist. Al was on my other side, his arm around me too. Al called out and everyone started doing the simple Can Can kicks I'd showed them. They weren't kicking very high, these are football players, not dancers, but it must have still looked pretty good. My body joined in and kicked along with everyone else. My brain was too busy whirling.

Was I having another weird moment like this morning with Cindi? What would be happening when I snapped out of it? Would I have been doing something strange and humiliating in front of all those people. My brain wanted me to run and hide. Oh God! What's happening to me? Run away! Run away! My body didn't have a choice — it was stuck in the line doing kicks.

The kick line finished pretty quickly then Dan was hustling me off the field. The opposing team had stood and clapped our touchdown. How freaky is that? Then they laughed and started clapping more when we did the Can Can.

Vince stopped Al, "Hey what's with all the kicks?"

"A little birdy told us we should do more different dances after a touch down."

Vince laughed, "Challenge accepted!! You are on!!"

They shook hands and they each hustled off to rejoin their own team.

Dan had me back in our team area. He helped me take my helmet off.

I wanted to clutch onto him and hold him tight. I wanted to bury my head in his chest and cry. I wanted to be held so badly, that I was shaking. But something stopped me. Instead I held Dan's wrists and pulled on them until I had his full attention.

"Dan, what was all that? How could it all happen? I don't understand. What's happening?"

"Look at the game clock, Bec."

I looked. The game clock showed that the second half hadn't started.

"Huh?"

"We were all just part of the half-time entertainment! Wasn't it fun?"

"But ... but why?"

"Their captain, Vince, suggested it. He organized it with Al at the end of the first half. Apparently they did something like this at another game about a month ago. That time they did it for a kid with leukemia. They all wanted to do this for you to say thanks for looking after their wide receiver. We went along because of that and also because it's your birthday coming up and you were such a good sport about all the kisses at the start of the game."

I blinked at Dan a couple of times.

"So it was all real?"

"It was hysterical. I haven't had so much fun for ages."

"Why didn't you tell me what was going on?"

"There wasn't really any time. It all happened in a rush. Anyway, I thought it would be better as a surprise. Wasn't it a good surprise?"

I hit his chest. I'd forgotten about his pads. It hurt my hand, and all it did to him was make a thwacking sound on his pad.

"Ow!!" I shook my hand to shake off the sting. Then I used my other hand to punch his arm where there weren't any pads. That hurt my hand nearly as much as hitting the pads did. Dan has hard muscles. "Ow again!!!"

"Hey!!" Dan took a step back and raised his hands in surrender. "What was that for?"

I glared at him. I was extra cross with him now, because he made me hurt my hands, on top of everything else.

"I thought I was..." I stopped myself and looked around. Then I stopped closer to him and hissed my next comments at him so I wouldn't be overhead. "I thought I was dreaming. Then I thought maybe I was going, you know, weird! You know? That stuff that happened this morning, I thought it was happening again. I thought I was going..." I didn't want to say the word "crazy" out loud, so I kind of mouthed it at him.

I saw his eyes go wide in understanding.

"Damn, Bec! I'm sorry. I didn't think of that. I just thought it would be fun."

Behind me, the horn sounded for the start of the second half. I turned my back on Dan and watched the kick off. I was a bit mad at him. Because I was mad at him, I didn't want him to see me smile.

It really had been fun.

Kind of scary, but definitely fun.

I'd had a great time.

Oh My God!!! They put me on the field and let me score a touchdown!

Awesome fun.

But scary.

But fun.



-------

Chapter 25 : Friday Evening

I don't know why I waste my time getting mad at Dan. I can never stay mad at him for longer than a few minutes. See it works like this. What's the first thing you do when you get mad at someone? For me, the first thing I do is make a big long list in my head of all the horrible things that person has ever done to me. Then I add the new thing to the list. Then I compare this huge long list to the pitifully short list of nice things that person has done for me. That way I have proof that I am justified in getting mad at them, so I can have a wonderful, guilt-free tantrum.

That system doesn't work so well with Dan because the list of horrible things he's done to me is incredibly short. I mean, I think the worst thing he's ever done was back when I was five. He kidnapped one of my dolls — her name was Lucy — and hid her somewhere in the house. Then he told me he'd invented a new game which was for me to search around and find her. Three hours of searching, the last hour of which included a full-bore, hysterical, screaming fit finally convinced him that I didn't much like his new game. Dan showed me how he'd put Lucy inside one of Mom's saucepans. I don't remember much about what happened after that, but apparently I took Lucy and hid under my bed for hours. Mom says I didn't talk for two days and I carried Lucy around with me everywhere for nearly a month. I don't remember that part though. All I remember is the panic and fear I felt when I couldn't find Lucy. Because of that, I'll probably be in therapy until I'm fifty. (Hmm. That joke isn't funny any more — I probably will be in therapy most of my life.)

So anyway, my list of mean things Dan's done to me is really short and that time is probably the worst one. On the other hand, the list of nice things he's done for me is really long — really, really long.

So I get cross with him about something, then I try and build myself up into a nice, satisfying rage, but I can't find any suitable materials to build my righteous rage with, so my tantrum deflates like a badly tied balloon. I'm usually left standing there feeling all empty and frustrated.

All this had been going through my head while I had my back firmly facing towards Dan. I decided to turn around and give him a smile so that he knew I wasn't mad at him anymore. When I turned, all I could see was him jogging away from me as he ran off to join in the game. How annoying!! I went over and slumped into one of the plastic chairs just near my drinks table. I had all these important personal issues to sort out and they just had to wait because of a silly football game. I decided that Dan really should get his priorities sorted out — how dare he run off and play football instead of talking to me. Hmmm! Like I said, empty and frustrated.

It didn't take me long to figure out that maybe it was me being unreasonable and not Dan. One of the things that helped convince me was that just about every member of the team, plus the coaches, trainers and cheerleaders all came over and gave me a high five for my touchdown. I did so many high fives that my hand ended up sore. It's hard to be miserable when so many people are being happy for you — especially when you know perfectly well that your misery is just a stupid thing in your own head. It didn't take long before I was laughing and joking with everyone. I made sure to thank Al for setting up the touchdown for me, I wanted to thank the opposition captain, Vince, as well but that was a bit hard because he was somewhere over on the other side of the field. Al promised to pass my thanks on to Vince next time they ran into each other — he kind of laughed when he said that so I think he meant it like as in, actually run into each other!

I didn't get to make up with Dan though, he stayed away from me. I think he figured that if I was mad at him, then he would just concentrate on the game and sort things out with me later.

Once I started taking notice of it, I realized that the game in the second half was a terrific contest. The two teams trundled up and down the field, each frantic attack stopped by just as desperate defense. Somehow or other, both sides managed to keep the other scoreless for nearly the whole of the third quarter. The only exception was that they got a field goal in the dying minutes of the quarter. In a way, the lack of scores was disappointing because we all wanted to see what would happen next time either team scored a touchdown.

I had a fair idea what our side was going to do. That's because early in the second half I'd been surrounded by most of the offensive team and begged for an idea of another dance they could do. After a bit of thought, I came up with an idea that the guys seemed happy with. It was something the guys sheepishly admitted they'd been to enough school dances to have learnt so it only took a very quick discussion to remind them of the steps.

The dry spell ended in the first minute of the last quarter when their fullback burst right through the middle of our line and bolted thirty yards to score a touchdown. It came so suddenly after so much solid defense. We were all quite disappointed that he made it look so easy in the end. Of course their side of the field went bananas. The fullback threw the ball up into the air and hugged his team mates then four of them quickly lined up side by side, linked arms and went into a full-on dance from Swan Lake. You know, the famous bit out of the ballet where four young swans dance together in a line with their arms linked. The four footballers did it incredibly well. It was hysterical. I found out later that they had done it the week before for a student revue wearing football jerseys and tutus and it had been the hit of the revue. Apparently they had rehearsed for ages beforehand and it showed. They really knew what they were doing. The entire crowd, including all of us, were standing and clapping and cheering.

I think the main umpire wanted to penalise them for time wasting but I saw Al go up to him and persuade him not to. They didn't do the dance for very long but it was very funny and at the end they all did a little curtsy and everyone gave them a standing ovation.

Fortunately for us, we managed to strike back about five minutes later. Al, playing quarterback of course, did one of those spectacular long throws that went all the way to the end zone where our wide receiver managed to catch it by leaping several feet into the air. It was truly awesome. Touchdown!

What happened next went exactly to the plan we'd worked out earlier. We all lined up on the sideline, including the cheerleaders, the coaches, the entire team and me. Then the cheerleaders counted us in and we launched into the words and moves... 



Let's do The Timewarp again!
Let's do The Timewarp again!
It's just a jump to the left, 
then a step to the right, 
with your hands on your hips, 
you bring your knees in tight, 
but it's the pelvic thrust... 



It was quick, it was easy and it was very recognizable for just about everyone. And as I said before, the guys admitted that they'd been to enough school dances that they knew it well enough already. I think it looked pretty good with a long line of more than fifty people all doing The Timewarp.

So there I was face-to-face with Gareth, the really big linebacker. We were doing the pelvic thrusts at each other when suddenly I blushed bright red and froze. Oh My God! It's about sex! I never got that before. It was like pretending to have sex! Thrusting our hips at each other like that. It was so blatant that it was downright rude. And here I was facing a twenty-year old guy, a few thousand pounds heavier than me and pretending to have sex with him — Oh My God! And I was doing it in the middle of a college football game — in front of a crowd of who-knows-how-many people. OH MY GOD!

I must have gone pale. I know I felt dizzy. Gareth suddenly stopped dancing and wrapped his ginormous hands around my upper arms. "Hey! Little Becky! Are you okay?"

I could feel my face turning bright red — so red that I figured I was probably radioactive. I muttered something about needing to sit down and Gareth guided me towards a chair and lowered me into it. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he half-carried me to a chair and lowered me into it. I was hugely embarrassed. The weird thing was, I was also kind of turned on as well. My whole body was tingling and I could feel a definite itchiness deep down between my legs. Maybe itchiness isn't the right word.

Fortunately everyone had stopped just after I did, so it wasn't like I made a big scene or anything. I half-noticed that the other team were all standing around clapping us as we went back to our places to continue the game.

Just after I'd sat down, I heard The Timewarp start up over the PA system. The announcer had seen what we were doing and dug it out of his collection to play. A lot of people in the bleachers behind me were standing up in their rows and dancing The Timewarp as our kicking team ran on to do their conversion. They stopped long enough to cheer when the conversion went through, then went back to dancing. They only stopped dancing and settled down when the music got turned off because the players were ready in the center of the field for the kick-off to restart play.

I was immediately surrounded by a committee of cheerleaders and players talking about what dance to do when we scored again. One of the girls suggested the Macarena as another dance with easy moves that most people could do. Everyone laughed and agreed and we went back to watching the game. I didn't find out until later but apparently the announcer sent a messenger down to ask our cheerleaders what dance we were going to do next time we scored a touchdown.

I helped myself to a drink — that made me feel a bit better — then I went back to my job, tidying up the drinks table and pouring more drinks and so on. It was good that I had all the players well trained by then. I didn't have to pick a single cup of the ground. I did see one guy forget and throw his cup on the ground, but his team-mates reminded him and he picked it up himself.

Within a few minutes, we scored a field goal which made the scores level and everyone got excited, but then they scored another field goal almost straight after so they were ahead again. Each time a field goal was scored, the announcer put some dance music over the PA and some people in the crowds would dance along with it until the players were ready to restart the game.

Then they managed a drive that forced us all the way back to our five yard line. Our defenders worked hard, but they couldn't hold out and the other team scored a touchdown. Of course the other side all screamed and jumped up and down. Then they raced into position on the far side of the field. Almost immediately, music started blaring from the PA system and the entire opposition squad started into:



It's fun to stay at the Y M C A... 



It's about as old as The Timewarp and a fairly dorky sort of song, but the arm movements are easy and dramatic — especially when thousands of people are doing them all at once. That's right, not only were the players and cheerleaders and coaches doing it, but virtually everyone in the bleachers on that side of the field were doing the Y M C A. moves. It was pretty awesome to see. We all just stood there and clapped. What else could you do?

The next section of the game was exciting but frustrating as first one team, then the other, seemed to gain the advantage but then lost the ball through fumbled receptions or crunching tackles or missed opportunities. I guess it was extra frustrating for us because now we were behind and time was running out on the game clock.

With just eight minutes to go, finally we made a comeback. To my great joy it was Dan who managed to slip through, following almost exactly the same path I had taken at half-time. From the tight-end position, he curled around behind the line of scrimmage, then steamrolled up the field with several of the opposition falling off him in failed attempts to tackle. All of us were screaming and I was probably the loudest. Dan somehow managed to jink past the fullback, but a defender covering from the left side managed to catch him just before the goal and the two of them crashed to the ground right up against the line. Someone else dived on top and quickly Dan disappeared under a pile of bodies in a kind of grown-up version of stacks-on-the-middle. The official had to peel the bodies off one at a time, but when he got to Dan at the bottom, the arms went straight up in the air — touchdown! Somehow under the weight of the tackler, Dan had managed to make that last desperate lunge and get the ball across the line.

Of course, everyone was yelling and screaming — me most of all. I was so happy for Dan, he scored a touchdown in his last college football game. The music for the Macarena started over the PA and we all started dancing, taking our cues from the cheerleaders. I glanced over my shoulder and I could see that all the crowd on our side of the field were on their feet and dancing too. It was very exciting. Somewhere in there was my Dad. I wondered how he was doing. I had a mental image of him standing there, trying to copy Pearl and her friends and follow along in that dorky way he has when he tries to dance.

When it came time for the game to restart, the guy in the PA booth didn't turn off the music like he was supposed to. Instead, he just turned it down a bit and changed to another dance track. I hope he doesn't get into trouble for that. The crowd didn't seem to mind, they just stayed on their feet and kept dancing. Even a lot of the players waiting on the sidelines kind of jigged along with the music.

The last few minutes of the game were a weird mix of tense — because we were three points behind, and fun — because the music was going and everyone was dancing. The crowd hadn't stopped watching the game — they still yelled and cheered when something happened. It's just that they yelled and cheered musically — then they started dancing again.

The gun sounded and the score hadn't changed. We lost. That was disappointing. But it had been a great game and lots of fun. I think it was a game that most people involved would remember for a long time. Most of the guys on the team seemed a bit disappointed that they'd lost, but not too upset — if you get what I mean.

By the time the game was over the music had crept back up to full volume, so the end of the game really only meant a change from people dancing and watching a game to people having a party. All the players and cheerleaders and so on from both sides ran on to the ground and congratulated each other and did high fives and hugs and hand shakes and stuff like that. I quickly realized that the other team was happy they'd won but weren't over-the-top excited about it either. I mean, it wasn't as if they'd just won a final or anything. These were two teams well down the ladder and they'd just played their last game of the season. The music was playing pretty loud through the PA and lots of people on the field were kind of jigging along with the music.

I got lots of hugs from players — they were all a bit smelly from the game but I put up with that because it was nice getting the hugs. Even some of the cheerleaders came over and hugged me. A couple of them made comments to me about how I was stealing their boyfriends with all the kissing that went on at the start of the game and I got a bit worried that they were mad at me until I realized they were teasing me.

I searched out Vince, the captain of the other team and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek and thanked him for organizing the touchdown thing for me at half time. I told him it had been a lot of fun and that I would remember it for a long time. He thanked me again for looking after Joe, their wide receiver. Several others of their team came over to thank me as well and I started to get a bit embarrassed at being the center of so much attention. I kind of thanked them as politely as I could but I think my voice went all quiet on me so I don't know if they heard me. Then I turned around and ran away — well, I walked quickly anyway. I wanted to run but somehow I knew that if I did then more people would look at me instead of less, so I made myself walk.

I guess going all shy like that was a bit stupid because I'd had the whole crowd looking at me when I scored the touchdown and it hadn't bothered me, but at the time I'd been pretty sure I was dreaming so I suppose that doesn't count.

I decided I should probably finish tidying up the drinks table then I would find Dad and get him to give me a lift home.

Dan came up to me when I was at the drinks table. I hadn't seen him up to that point. I don't know if that was because he was avoiding me or if I was avoiding him. Anyway, he wrapped up my wrists in his big hands and turned me to face him.

"Seeing as how I've learnt my lesson from before, I thought I should warn you about something."

I looked up at him suspiciously. "What?"

"There's a tradition amongst the guys on the team — for when they have a birthday. And since you got to be an honorary member of the team tonight, that means you get included in that."

"What?"

I heard a rattle just behind me, but Dan was holding me so I couldn't turn. Not that it mattered because an instant after the noise, I was suddenly drenched with a flood of freezing ice-water. They'd emptied the melt-water from the drinks ice chest all over me! There were still bits of ice floating in it. I could feel them sliding down my skin! I squealed and flinched. My entire skin tried to turn itself inside out in an effort to get away from the freezing water. My hair was plastered down and my clothes were drenched. I squealed again.

My eyes were screwed shut as I stood there and shivered, my body still trying to cope with the shock of the sudden drenching. I could hear a bunch of guys standing around cheering and wishing me happy birthday. Dan had set me up. He'd turned me around and held me while they did it. A little bit of my brain wanted to break free of his grip and punch him in the nose. But I wasn't really angry with Dan, just annoyed. Dan was still gripping my wrists, so I dug my fingernails deep into the tender skin on the inside of his wrists until he let me go. I mean, if he didn't want me to do that to him, he shouldn't have shown me how to do it in the first place.

As soon as Dan let me go, I turned around to face the others and used both hands to push some strands of wet hair back off my face. They were all laughing and joking and slapping me on the shoulder and on my back. They were so happy and being so friendly that I couldn't help laughing. I pulled a bit of ice from where it had gotten caught in my collar and threw it at them and that just made them laugh even more — which made me laugh some more.

Then I stopped laughing and started shivering. My nipples were so hard from the cold that they were hurting. I felt like I was going to burst into tears any second but I bit into my lip and refused to cry in front of all these people. A towel got wrapped around my shoulders and Dan was hustling me towards the changing rooms, making some comment about getting me dry before I froze to death.

Something about this was familiar — like that dejavu thing. That's right! Just this morning at school I'd been drenched to the skin too. This really must be an official "Get Bec Wet" day.

Dan walked me into the changing rooms and checked that it was empty. He handed me a towel from the big pile of dry towels.

"Here! Dry yourself off and change back into your street clothes. I'll make sure no one comes in until you're ready."

With that, he walked out and closed the door behind him. I stood dripping into a little pool of water that was rapidly spreading. I stared at the closed door in disbelief.

"Street clothes? What street clothes?"

The door didn't say anything. It didn't seem to have any answers.

"Dan! You idiot! I don't have any clothes to change into! I wasn't expecting to be playing this evening."

The door just stood there, looking all solid and unimpressed.

"Bec! You're talking to a door. Get a grip!"

I started using the towel to pat my face and hair dry. I also dabbed at my clothes which was pretty much a waste of effort. I wandered over to Dan's bag, thinking maybe he would have something in there that I could steal to wear home. If it meant he had to go home in his boxers then so be it. I giggled to myself as I got a mental image in my head of him having to do that.

In Dan's bag I found my big shirt which was his old football jersey. I'd taken it off when I'd been given my official team jersey and forgotten it was in here. Okay, so that was a start. I stripped off my wet jersey and found that my shirt and shorts were soaked too, so I had to strip them off too. My sports bra and panties were soaking wet too so I had to peel them off too. I quickly wrapped the towel around me. Being naked in this enormous room was just a bit weird. Strangely, my shoes were dry and my socks were just a bit damp on one side. Apart from them and Dan's old jersey, I had nothing dry to wear.

I stood there, naked — well mostly naked, I was wearing shoes and socks and Nana's locket and a towel. Like I was saying, I stood there mostly naked in this enormous changing room and looked nervously at the closed door. I bit my lip as I worried what to do. The jersey was like a dress, it would cover me down to my knees. But I couldn't possibly wear it without anything on underneath... could I? I suppose I could just wear my wet underwear and put up with the damp, but I could probably quote word-for-word Mom's lecture to me when I got sick from doing that. I think she'd prefer me to wear no underwear rather than wet underwear. Oh God! I was going to have to do it.

I finished drying and slipped the old jersey on over my head. The short sleeves came down to near my elbows and it was so loose around my chest that I could have had D sized boobs under there and you wouldn't have been able to tell. The material was thick enough that if it did push back against my chest, that nothing was obviously out of place. Except that pulling it hard against my body showed up only one little bump instead of two, so I stopped doing that and fluffed it out loosely away from my chest.

I hunted through Dan's bag and found the boxers he'd brought to change into. I wasn't sure if they were clean or not. He probably would have worn these all day then changed into that thingy he wore under his football uniform. I knew about that thing because I often got to do the washing, I just didn't know what it was called and it didn't exactly rate as a question I wanted to ask either Dan or Mom.

Holding the boxers up in front of me quickly showed that I wouldn't be able to wear them anyway. Even with the elastic loose, they would have gone around my waist twice. Unless... I could hold them in place with a belt! That might work.

I stripped the belt out of Dan's jeans and put it on the bench. Then I pulled his boxers up to my waist, which involved holding the jersey up out of the way, then I grabbed the belt — okay so I was running out of hands and was doing a lot of gripping with elbows. I was holding the jersey up tucked under my chin. I wrapped the belt around my waist, just under the waistline of the boxers and pulled it tight. The boxers were pulled in at the waist and stuck out at the bottom like a kilt, it looked pretty funny. Then I discovered a problem with the belt was it didn't have any hole for the belt buckle with the belt pulled through that far. All I could do was wrap it around and tie a sort of knot in the belt. Then I pulled the jersey down over the top of it all and decided that I was more or less decent.

I figured I should just go over to the mirror and check that it looked okay. I took two steps and the knot in the belt loosened. The boxers fell down my legs straight to the floor and the belt followed. I burst out laughing. It was pretty funny. Then I stopped laughing. It wasn't that funny, I was going to be sooo embarrassed.

The door started opening and I frantically picked up the boxers and hid them behind my back. Dan kind of half-peered around the door.

"Bec? Are you ready? How's it all going in there?"

"Um? I'm fine Dan. I guess I'm more or less done. I'm decent anyway, so you can come in."

Dan pushed the door open and came in, followed by a group of other players and a couple of cheerleaders. I hurried over to Dan's bag and quickly shoved his boxers back in, hoping that he wouldn't notice that I had them. I turned back and held up the belt.

"Is it okay if I borrow your belt?" He nodded at me, so I wrapped it twice around my waist. It didn't quite meet up after going me around me twice — so much for that theory. I wrapped it around once and just did a big knot, ignoring the buckle entirely. That kind of worked, it hung a bit loose and draped off my hips a bit so it looked a bit trendy with the big knot in the front. Also it pulled the waist of the jersey in a bit so the thing was less likely to just flap up and expose my most secret parts to the world. Apart from that, I was just going to have to walk around with my hands down by my sides making sure it didn't flap up — at all — ever!

I wanted to ask Dan what I could do with my wet clothes so I looked at them and saw, to my horror, my little bra draped on top of the pile — in a room full of guys!! I squeaked and kicked the wet jersey over the top of the pile hiding my underwear from view. I looked around in a panic hoping nobody had seen them, I couldn't see anyone staring so I thought I might have gotten away with it. I could feel my face burning red with embarrassment though. I carefully squatted down — I mean really, really carefully because I didn't want anyone to be able to see up my dress — and gathered my wet clothes into a pile, making sure the underwear stayed carefully concealed in the middle. Then I checked with Dan and he helped me drop it all into the side of his bag that his dirty football gear was going to go into — the bits the team wasn't going to wash for him anyway.

Dan reached into a side pocket and pulled out my hairbrush that I'd stuck in there — I'd forgotten it was there. He handed it to me and told me I should skedaddle because the players were going to be getting showered and changed and he didn't want to have to pay for the therapy if I got all shocked from seeing about fifty guys getting nekkid. I grinned at him and turned to leave the room.

I didn't get out the door though. I mean, I couldn't. There was this whole crowd milling around out there. And I was virtually naked. I mean, okay I had a jersey on and it covered me all the way down to my knees, but underneath that I was naked!! I couldn't bear the thought of walking amongst that crowd of people. What if they somehow found out? They'd all stare at me. They'd all think I was a... you know! I mean only certain types of girls go around without any underwear!

I stood just outside the changing room door and trembled for a moment. It was like I was frozen into inaction. Then I turned and fled back into the changing room. At least in here, people were expected to be... not fully clothed.

I saw a group of cheerleaders had taken over one corner of the room in behind a bank of lockers. Apparently the girls didn't rate their own room. I wondered if they would go into the showers with the guys. Hmm. I sidled over to where the cheerleaders were and slid as quietly as I could onto an empty bench. I had to fold my jersey underneath me as I sat and carefully straightened the front of it down over my legs. The girls didn't stop their chatting — they were talking about the game — they just nodded at me and went on with their talk. I relaxed slightly and started brushing out my hair.

The cheerleaders were grumbling in a good natured sort of way about having to share the room with the guys. Apparently it happened sometimes depending on where the game was. They seemed to have a system though. They just waited until all the cheerleaders were ready then they all went in as a group and took over the showers for a bit while they all got clean. They didn't seem to mind walking around in front of the guys wearing just towels though. It was like they didn't care! I couldn't wrap my head around that. The rest of the team and the rest of the cheerleaders had slowly filtering into the room and were sorting themselves out ready for the showers. The mood inside the room was really good. It sounded like everyone had a lot of fun. No one was miserable about having lost or anything. All the cheerleaders headed off for their shower and I could hear the friendly bickering as they kicked the guys out of the shower so they could have their turn.

In the meantime, I just sat alone on the bench and brushed my hair. I felt better now that I was warm and dry. I still felt a bit nervous about not wearing underwear, but while I was sitting on the bench I was okay about that. It was nice to just sit quietly for a while and brush my hair and listen to the boys all talking and joking with each other just around the corner. They used a lot of bad language, but it was nothing I hadn't heard before. I even heard a really crude joke being told. It made me laugh but it made me blush too. I tried to remember it so I could repeat it to Liz but I'd forgotten it by the time I got out of the room.

From where I was sitting, I could see out of the corner of my eye the bench where three of the football players were changing. They had their shirts off and had taken all the padding off so I kind of sat and admired their bodies out of the corner of my eye. I didn't want to stare but it was nice looking at all the muscles on their chests and arms. They looked so powerful. Then I realized that in my head, I was comparing them to Dan and I decided that they looked fine but Dan looked better.

I carefully closed my eyes when they pulled their pants down, I seriously was just not ready to see some things — okay maybe I was curious, but... okay — I peeped. There! I said it! Are you happy?

That was interesting too. I'd seen Dan's penis the weekend before and I guess I'd kind of figured that they would all be more or less the same — except of course things like skin color. But they were different, really different. Then they were hidden as the guys wrapped towels around themselves and headed off to wait near the showers. I covered my face with my hands and tried to convince myself that I hadn't really just peeped at three penises. I don't think I believed myself. I'm not very good at lying.

The cheerleaders came back from the showers and started drying themselves and getting dressed. I went back to brushing my hair and tried to be quiet so they wouldn't be bothered by me sitting there. They were drying themselves right in front of me and I couldn't help noticing their bodies. These were all basically grown women. They all had proper boobs and curvy hips. I admired all their smooth skin and silky hair. They were all fit and strong too and as they moved their skin seemed to slide easily over the muscles in their legs and stomachs. I was kind of glad that I was dressed and sitting down. If I'd been in amongst them I would have looked just like a little kid with my gawky body and my mostly flat chest and my nearly straight hips and my flat bum.

The girls weren't actually ignoring me. I was asked several times if I'd had fun this evening and so on. Silvia, the girl who'd been with Steve at the basketball, even asked me who I thought was the best kisser but I just blushed and didn't answer that one. Most of the time they were talking about college stuff though, so I couldn't really join in their conversation. Mostly I just sat there. I decided my hair was brushed enough so I tossed it all down my back and tucked the front locks in behind my ears. Sometime this evening, the elastic I'd used to hold my pony tail had disappeared, but that was okay. I liked having my hair out sometimes. I think my hair is my best feature. A lot of people tell me I have pretty hair.

It wasn't until most of the people in the room were dressed and starting to head out the door that I remembered I was hoping to get a lift home with Dad. I jumped off the bench and headed around the corner to find Dan. He seemed a bit surprised to see me still in the rooms but he didn't say anything about it. I put my brush in his bag and told him I was going to try and catch a lift home with Dad. Then I followed a pair of cheerleaders out the door. I was walking carefully with my arms down by my sides. I took special care not to take big steps or bounce or do anything else that might make the bottom of my jersey flap up. Outside, the crowds had thinned out a bit. I went out to the bleachers to where Dad and Pearl and the others had been sitting but there was nobody there. I cursed under my breath. I would have to catch the booster bus back to the college and get Dan to drive me home. That had been the original plan, but it would have been so much easier to go home with Dad.

I climbed on to the bus and got my name ticked off on Professor Greenall's list. The bus was about half full. I slid into the seat directly behind the professor. I adjusted the jersey around my legs and straightened it up underneath me so as much of my legs as possible were covered; then I just sat there looking blankly out the window. I couldn't see much because it was dark outside, so all I got was the reflection of the inside of the bus.

I saw the sleazy Marvin hesitate beside my seat as if he was thinking of sitting next to me. I turned and stared directly at him, scowling my blackest scowl. I really didn't want to have to deal with him. I think he got the message, because he grabbed his brother and dragged him further back down the bus. I still had the scowl on my face when Lance stepped in to replace Marvin. He saw my face and hesitated, then he politely asked if he could sit next to me. I wiped the scowl off my face and nodded at him.

He started immediately talking about the game and how he'd seen me down there amongst the players. He asked me what it felt like to run out and score the touchdown at half-time. I wasn't really feeling like talking that much, so I answered him to be polite but I kept my answers short and let him do the talking. I decided that I liked Lance. He was friendly and polite and talked about interesting things.

The mood on the bus was very cheerful. There was a lot of calling out and cheering as the bus pulled out of the parking lot and into the street.

It was after we'd been travelling for about ten minutes or so that Lance made a comment about how seeing me down there amongst the players got him all jealous.

"I guess I understand that. If I saw someone else down amongst the players getting to help out, I would have probably been jealous too."

"No, I wasn't so much jealous of you, though it would have been fun to be down there. No I was more jealous of the players."

"Huh? Why?"

"Well, they all got to kiss you. I would have liked to do that."

"Oh!" I guess I kind of blushed a bit. Then I shrugged to myself and thought, "Why not?" I leaned over and kissed the side of his mouth.

"There you are. Now you got the same as they all got."

"No way was that the same. I saw what they were doing. They were all kissing you like this."

Then he leaned over and kissed me right on the mouth and held it like that for maybe half a minute. Then he sat back into his own seat with a little smile on his face.

I think I had a little smile on my face too. My heart was going pitter-patter and I was feeling a bit flushed. I did a replay in my head of the sensations of him kissing me. Then I ran the replay again. Except half-way through, I realized that it wasn't me replaying it in my head — he really was kissing me again. Then I felt something pushing against me lips. I was kind of stunned so I didn't resist as he used his tongue to push my lips apart and worm his tongue into my mouth.

Okay! I was wrong before when I said I'd had my first kiss with a guy on the sidelines of the field. That wasn't really my first kiss. This was. He was kissing me, like they kiss in the movies, with his mouth open and pushing his tongue around in my mouth. I thought I should maybe tell him to stop, but I couldn't with his mouth all over mine. It was hard to concentrate anyway. I was feeling this faint buzzing in my head and my body was tingling. I was feeling especially tingly in my lips where he was kissing me and on my knee where his hand was sitting.

Oh! I was being kissed! Oh God! I tried to use my tongue like he was doing. I didn't want to seem all immature and ignorant. For some reason it seemed important to me that he didn't realize that I'd never been kissed like that before. A little corner of my brain was saying "Hey wait a minute! Lance is a nice guy and all, but I wasn't ready to kiss him." Stupid brain! Of course I was ready to kiss him. I was kissing him, wasn't I? Doesn't that mean I was ready to kiss him. Oh! It felt so nice. I decided I really liked kissing Lance.

My brain was getting a bit fuzzy. It sure was hard to think sensibly. I could feel Lance's hand on my stomach, making little circles. I guess that meant it wasn't on my knee anymore. Everywhere his hand travelled, it left little tingles in its path.

Ohh! Soo nice! I decided I really liked kissing Lance. Every so often, he would kind of half stop and move his mouth to the side and kiss my face, then he would go back to my mouth and we would push our tongues at each other some more. Somewhere in there, Lance's hand moved up above my stomach to the bottom of my ribs. I could just feel him pausing there before he reached up even further.

Oh, he was going to touch my boobs. I started to panic. I couldn't let him touch me there. He would find out how flat I was and lose interest in me. He would laugh at me and I couldn't bear that. I reached up with one hand and clasped his hand in mine. I pulled my head back from him enough that I could murmer "don't" and pulled his hand back down to my stomach. I hoped he would get the message.

He seemed to. He just smiled and went back to kissing me. I could live with that. I could totally live with that. Wait a minute. Did I really want to be kissing him like this? It was nice, but... I guess it was kind of a bit too late to start saying no.

It suddenly occurred to me that the way I was twisting around, could cause my jersey to rise up and expose far more of me than I wanted to expose. I was already using one hand to hold Lance's hand against my stomach, so the other hand went to work making sure the bottom of the jersey was staying where it was supposed to. It wasn't so much fun anymore when I was all of a sudden thinking more about what my two hands were doing than thinking about kissing.

Lance seemed to sense that something was wrong. He moved back a bit and asked me what was wrong. I ducked my head and straightened my jersey.

"Nothing," I said, without looking at him.

"Oh! Okay. Well I really liked doing that."

"Um! Yeah! It was nice."

"Can I kiss you again?"

"Um..." I didn't get a chance to think about an answer for that one because suddenly he was kissing me again. I was starting to get good at this whole kissing thing, so I kissed back at him. I decided I kind of liked kissing Lance. Maybe it's because he's a good kisser or something. His hand was back on my knee. I kept one hand on the hem of the jersey making sure it didn't move. My other hand was sitting flat on his chest. I wasn't sure if it was there because I wanted to touch his chest, or if it was there because I wanted to push him away. I didn't really want to push him away — I liked him kissing me.

We stopped when the driver announced that we would be arriving at the college in a few minutes and that we should make sure we don't leave any property on the bus.

Lance pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and asked for my number. I told him I didn't have a mobile but gave him my home number. I sat there watching him type my name and number into his phone. We'd made out for an entire bus trip and now he had my number in his phone. That pretty much meant we were going together didn't it? I was a bit confused but I couldn't actually ask him. I think I was supposed to know things like that but because I'd never had a boyfriend before, there was stuff I didn't know. Like what to say right now! I ended up not saying anything.

The bus pulled to a stop and the driver opened the door. Lance jumped up straight away and waved goodbye to me. "I'll call you," he said and disappeared out the door and into the night.

I sat for a moment to collect myself. My brain was still all fuzzy from the kissing. It was like being kissed had made it hard to think about anything else. I think I was a bit turned on. My nipples were all hard and I was definitely feeling a little bit, you know, down there. I had to force myself to plan out what I had to do next. I was going to have to get off the bus and be careful going down the stairs because I didn't have any panties on. I was going to have to catch Dan as he got off the team bus and get him to drive me home.

I'd just had my first kiss.

My whole body was tingling.

Lance was going to call me.

My first kiss!

I had a boyfriend.

I didn't climb off the bus.

I floated off it.



-------

Chapter 26 : Late Friday Evening Part 1



Gravity sucks! There I was, serenely floating off the bus, when the last step down from the bus to the ground turned out to be further than I thought. Next thing I know, gravity sucked me down and thumped my feet solidly onto the ground. The jolt kind of brought me to my senses a bit. I headed over to where the team bus was unloading and arrived just in time to see Pearl greet Dan as he climbed down from the bus with his bag slung over his shoulder. It was a friendly greeting with a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. I think Pearl was congratulating Dan for his touchdown. My sisterly matchmaker gene cut in then and I started thinking about how the "Stop Dan Being Stupid" campaign seemed to be coming along nicely.

It was at that point that I remembered that Pearl and Dan were supposed to be going out for pizza after the game. I cursed myself for messing up getting a lift home with Dad because now I was going to throw a spanner in the works simply by being there. I briefly considered slipping away before they saw me and catching a bus home, but the prospect of a long, late-evening bus ride was just too scary for words. I sighed and sidled up to them.

"Hey Bec! I thought you were going home with Dad."

I shrugged at him. "So did I, but apparently Dad didn't realize that. He left without me — abandoned me to my fate. So here I am, this lost little waif, standing by the side of the road, destined to die in a ditch somewhere, friendless and alone." In case you haven't guessed by now, I was acting this out, all very dramatic and over the top. "Unless, of course, some sweet, loving, brother should take pity on me and drop me off at home before heading out for his hot pizza-date."

In books, they always write about a girl in this situation fluttering her eyelashes at the guy. I never realized how hard that is to do. I wanted to keep fluttering away madly at him until he said he would do it, but it was starting to feel like I was having an epileptic fit so I had to stop. It's probably just as well I stopped anyway because it was several minutes before Pearl and Dan stopped laughing long enough to say anything rational.

"Of course I'll take you home, Bec. But if you're not too tired, you may as well come to the pizza place with us for a while."

"But I don't want to crash your date."

"Oh yeah, about that! Our quiet, little pizza and coffee after the game has turned into something bigger than Ben Hur. Coach booked the top floor of Bennie's Pizza for everyone. For some reason I missed out on hearing about it. So Pearl and I are going there with the whole crowd. You are officially invited too if you want to come. If you're too tired, just say the word and I'll take you home first."

"Um, okay, thanks, I guess I'd like to go for a while." I looked at Pearl. "Sorry about the date, but you know what the mice said about best laid plans."

Pearl didn't know what I was talking about, so while we walked to Dan's car, I explained about the mice in Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Apparently she'd heard of the book, but never read it so I suggested she should read it because it's a lot of fun.

When we got to Dan's car, Pearl tried to get me to sit up front next to Dan. I refused and told her she should sit in the front. In the end she slid across the bench seat and sat in the middle with me next to her so all three of us were in the front.

"You're just trying to play match-maker with me and Dan," Pearl said to me, with a sly smile.

I tried to put an innocent expression on my face. "Not really."

Dan laughed. "Which is code for 'Yes.' Also Bec doesn't want to sit next to me because I made her angry before. I've been bad and now I'm being punished. I've been thrown into jail without any hope of appeal." He stuck out his lower lip and pretended to whimper.

Pearl turned and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "What did he do?"

"He got sent directly to jail, that's what. He didn't get to pass Go and he didn't get to collect his two hundred pounds."

"Two hundred dollars, you mean?"

"No! She means two hundred pounds," explained Dan. "Our monopoly set is the one we brought from England so it has English money. It has all the English places too, Trafalgar Square and Park Lane and so on."

I was in such a good mood just then, that Dan could have done just about anything and I would have let him off. I smiled to myself because I just worked out how I could continue the Monopoly discussion. This was going to be fun.

"What Dan's forgetting is that he has a 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card. If he wants to use it, he can."

"I do? Cool! How many times can I use it?"

Pearl's head was flipping back and forth like she was watching a game of tennis. She had a half-smile on her face. I think she was finding our conversation entertaining. I sure was.

I looked straight ahead at the traffic on the road in front of us and kept my face as straight as I could.

"It's just a one use card. Once it's used, you have to throw it on the discard pile and hope you get another one."

"Darn!" said Dan.

"My advice," said Pearl, "is to play the cards you've been dealt. If you have a card, you may as well use it."

"Okay, how do I use it?"

"You just say something like, 'I'm sorry, Bec, I didn't mean to scare you. Will you forgive me?' and I say 'Yes!'"

"I thought I'd already said something like that."

"You may have, but I wasn't ready to hear it then. Now I am."

"Ah! Okay then. I'm sorry, Bec, I didn't mean to scare you. Will you forgive me?"

"Yes!" I smiled at my reflection in the window. "See? That was easy wasn't it?"

"Yay!" yelled Pearl, clapping her hands. "So whose move is it now?"

"Well, Dan just played his get out of jail card, so he still has to move."

"What piece are you Dan?"

"I'm the car. I'm always the car."

"Yup, Dan's always the car," I explained to Pearl. "Dad's the Battleship, Mom gets the hat, Tara's always the horse and I'm always the dog." Hmmm. That didn't come out right. I called myself a dog! I should be more careful about how I say that.

Thankfully Pearl didn't pick up on what I'd said — or if she did she ignored it. "That sounds pretty final."

"Yeah! It's one of Dad's Rules. Tara and I used to fight a little bit..."

"They used to fight a lot!" put in Dan — quite unnecessarily, I thought.

" ... we used to fight a little bit, until Dad got sick of it one day and he made a new rule that from now on each of us would have a set piece and that was final."

"That's convenient, because I like either the shoe or the thimble and both of those are still available." Pearl said with a grin.

"So what do you want to be tonight?" I asked.

"I'll go with the shoe."

"Cool! You're the shoe, I'm the dog and Dan's the car. Okay Dan, it's your move." (Doh! I said it again!)

"How do I roll the dice?"

I groaned to myself, sometimes Dan just has no imagination.

Pearl had an idea though. "We'll just use the next number-plate we see. Take the last digit as your roll."

"You guys better do that! I have to drive."

Pearl and I quickly picked a car, "Seven! You rolled seven!" We both called out in unison.

"Excellent. So I move my car seven squares. Where does that take me to?" Dan was finally getting into the spirit of the game.

"Just a minute!" I closed my eyes and pictured myself opening up the monopoly board and laying it out in the bottom of my skull. I put the car next to the jail cell and carefully moved it forward seven squares. "Community Chest!"

"How do you know that?" Pearl asked, looking at me curiously.

I shrugged. "I don't know, I just remember. We've played Monopoly a lot."

"So what does the card say?" Dan wanted to know. "We better hurry up and finish my turn because we've arrived at Bennie's Pizza."

"Let me read it," I said and mimed picking a card up from the dashboard and turning it over so I could read it. "It's Pizza Night! You must buy both other players pizza and a drink."

"It does not," protested Dan.

"Here, show me," said Pearl. She mimed taking the card from me and read it herself. "Yep, that's what it says — pizza and a drink. Look! See for yourself." She held out her hand for Dan to read it.

He groaned. "I just knew this game was going to cost me money."

Dan parked and we climbed out of the car.

Pearl grinned at me and gave me a little hug. "That was fun. I've never played Monopoly like that before."

I grinned back at her. "We only just got started. We should play it some more some time."

"It's a deal."

Dan and Pearl and I headed inside the pizza place and it was obvious where we should go as soon as we walked in the door. There was a wall of noise — talking and laughing — coming down the stairway. We walked up the stairs and into the noise.

It was hard not to jump and skip in excitement. I was in such a good mood. This had been an awesome night already and it wasn't finished. I felt like my head was so full of happy thoughts that it would explode and scatter bits of happiness over everyone around me. There was just that one, nagging bit of my brain that wanted me to sit down and think about what happened with Lance. I pushed it into a corner of my skull and piled up happy thoughts on top of it until I couldn't hear it anymore. It was time to party.

Upstairs was packed with players, cheerleaders and supporters. Dan put some money in the pot to cover the three of us. They were bringing out large pizzas as fast as they could cook them and everybody was just grabbing slices of whatever they wanted. I claimed a slice of Supreme and got a soda from the bar. Then I found a corner where I could nibble on my pizza and sip my soda and stay out of the way. Most people were standing up and milling around. A few people came up to me to talk about the game and my touchdown. At one point, I made the comment that if you counted my touchdown then we'd actually won the game. I was just being silly at the time, but they took up that idea and soon I heard it being repeated around the room, accompanied by a lot of cheering.

I could see that Pearl was sticking with Dan. I watched as they stood in a small group with several other players and their girlfriends talking about things that happened during the game. Pearl seemed to be enjoying herself, so that was a good thing. I saw Al join their group and that made me look around for Lance. I saw him sitting down with his back to me talking with a small group of high-schoolers. I thought I'd go over and join him, but then I thought I should really sort out my feelings before I did that. I was a bit confused about how I felt about what had happened on the bus. I saw an empty booth and slid into it so I could think things through.

On the one hand I'd really liked kissing Lance. The feelings that had been going through me while we were kissing were just indescribable. On the other hand, I couldn't help feeling Lance had rushed me into it just a bit. I mean I really liked him from the talk we'd had on the way to the game, but then suddenly we'd jumped to kissing. I wasn't sure that I should blame him too much for that though, because I'd kissed him first. It was as if, by doing that, I'd given him permission to kiss me back. I laid my head back on the backrest of the seat and closed my eyes, trying to clear out my head from all the confusing thoughts spinning around inside.

All that did was allow me to hear the conversation happening in the booth behind me. The seats were really tall, so I couldn't see them, and they couldn't see me. I could tell they were a group of cheerleaders, though, from the things they were saying. They were all talking really fast. They kept talking over the top of each others' sentences before they were finished as they rushed to throw in their own comments. Their words kind of kept piling on top of each other until they spilled over the top of the seats into my booth. Then I realized they'd changed subjects. They were talking about ... me!

"Didn't you see the little minx offering herself to all of them?!"

"C'mon, it was more like they were each getting a piece of her and then passing her on to the next guy."

"Who is she again? I'm sure I've seen her around before."

"Bec? She's Dan's sister. I met her at the basketball last night." I recognized Silvia's voice — she'd been with Steve last night.

"She's cute!"

"And that gorgeous little smile. Wouldn't you want to kiss her if you were a guy?"

"Hell! I wanted to kiss her and I ain't no guy."

"You'll kiss anything in a skirt so that doesn't mean anything."

"The only guys out on the field that didn't kiss her were the refs. I bet they were pissed."

"If I was a guy, I'd want to do more than kiss her."

"Especially the way she was dressed. That oversized jersey hanging off her just looked so damn sexy."

"I'll bet a lot of the guys wearing those plastic cups were hurting."

There was a lot of snickering at that comment. My brain was struggling to cope with what they were saying. They thought I was sexy? Unbelievable!

"When she was sitting with us in the changing room and brushing her hair she looked so adorable."

"Oh yeah! I just wanted to gobble her up."

"I just wanted to kill her."

"Yeah! I know what you mean. God I hate her. Those legs! Arrgghh!"

"I'd kill for her hair!"

"I'd kill for her complexion. Did you notice she wasn't wearing even a scrap of makeup?"

"At least she doesn't have anything up here. If she did, they would have had to call the game. And then the riot squad."

"So it's a good thing she's as flat as a pancake then."

"Sooner or later she'll either grow a pair or learn how to stuff her bra. Then we'll have some serious competition."

"Let's just kill her before that happens!"

They were all laughing. I was glad they were laughing. If someone had said that without laughing, it would have been a bit scary. It didn't make sense that they would say those things about me. They all had such beautiful bodies. Why would they be jealous of mine? My skinny little body was nothing compared to theirs.

"You might not find her that easy to kill." That was Silvia again. "Did you hear the story about Sarah Taviori getting put in her place at the basketball last night?"

"Sure we heard. What about it?"

"That was her."

"You're kidding! That little thing took out Sarah Taviori?"

"I didn't hear, what happened?"

"I was there. Dan turned up with this girl, Bec, at the basketball last night. Everybody thought she was just another date for Dan, but she was a bit younger than usual. We found out later she was his little sister."

Their conversation was interrupted by a couple of football players trying to get them to go back and join the party. The girls chased them away saying they were having some 'important girl talk' and promised to come over in a few minutes.

"Go on, what's this about Sarah Taviori — I can't stand that bitch!"

"Sarah started in on Dan, going on about how he was reduced to dating high school girls because all the college girls were sick of him."

"Like that would happen!"

"Oh yeah!" I heard at least two different girls sighing.

"Shut up! I want to hear the story!"

"So then Sarah gets stuck into little Becky, going on about how she's too innocent and so on. Dan made some comment about how he'd already had more fun with Bec on one date than he ever did with Sarah."

"Dan dated Sarah Taviori? Eeew!"

"Shut up! Every guy is allowed one mistake! Keep talking!"

"I didn't hear exactly what Sarah said then, but it was something about giving blowjobs to show Dan a good time. Little Bec looks her up and down and just says, as sweet as pie, 'If Dan's having more fun without me doing that, then your blowjobs can't have been very good!'"

"Damn!"

"Everybody laughed. One sentence — the perfect put-down — and Sarah was shut down. It was a thing of beauty."

"Sarah looked ready to rip little Bec's hair out. Then Dan as good as told Sarah that if she wanted to fight, Bec would tear her head off. The bitch ran so fast, her feet didn't touch the ground."

"I think I'm in love."

"Cradle robber!"

"How old is she, anyway?"

"I'm not sure ... sophomore maybe ... or possibly junior."

"Didn't someone say she's younger, like in middle school?"

"That can't be right. I heard she's taking a college class."

"That's true! One of my friends saw her in a math class correcting the professor. He had a whole chalkboard full of equations, and she picked out a mistake that blew away the whole lecture. Can you imagine?!"

"God, I hate her even more!"

"Maybe she could tutor me."

"Wouldn't you rather have Dan 'tutor' you?"

"Oh, yeah! Dan can 'tutor' me anytime."

"Hmmm! Me too."

"Speaking as someone who has been 'tutored' by Dan, he's as good as they get."

"Seconded!"

More snickers. So once more I hear that Dan is good with the girls. Part of me was proud that Dan was so well liked, part of me was insanely jealous ... of the girls who'd been with Dan, I mean.

"But seriously, I really do need someone to help with my math. It sounds like she'd be perfect."

"You just want to get into her pants ... and you called me a cradle-robber!"

Protests about the wrongness of that claim were drowned out in a chorus of gentle teasing. I was blushing like it was going out of fashion. My brain was racing at a mile a minute as I tried to process all their comments.

"God, that fake touchdown was a hoot!"

"She sure did give it her all didn't she? It was almost as if she didn't know it was all just a bit of fun."

"I've never laughed so hard!"

"Me neither!"

"Then the guys were doing all those dances."

"How did that start anyway?"

"I dunno, but it was as funny as!"

"Hysterical!"

"Speaking of the guys, let's get back over there. My boyfriend is looking lonely."

"We can't have the poor things feeling lonely."

"Yeah! They might give up on us and go looking for Dan's little sister if we let'em alone too long."

"I wish she was older. She'd be great as one of us!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

They slid out of the booth and headed over to join the rest of the crowd. I leaned forward and propped my chin up on my hands. That was bizarre. I don't think I've ever been the subject of gossip before. Maybe that isn't true, I'm sure the girls at school sometimes gossip about what a freak I am, but nothing like that.

Those girls actually seemed to like me. If only I could figure out what I'd done to make them like me, then I could do it some more. Was it because they thought I looked sexy? Does that mean I should try to look sexy more? But I hadn't been trying to look sexy. I hadn't even thought about what I looked like — not really. I'd worn the jersey because it was the team's — and Dan's. I didn't think it was that sexy. I was wearing it right now and I didn't feel sexy. I felt downright naked actually. Not totally naked, but almost.

I pressed my knees even more tightly together and pulled the bottom of the jersey tightly around my thighs. Even though I was sitting at a table, I was suddenly feeling even more exposed.

I jumped a bit when there was movement beside me and Lance slipped into the booth and dropped onto the seat beside me with a thud.

"Hey doll! I didn't realize you were going to be here."

"Um, neither did I."

I felt a hand slithering across the top of my back and around my shoulder. Another hand arrived on my knee. That left me almost enclosed by his arms and I felt a bit insecure. I felt a bit flushed too. I think I was blushing a bit.

"So doll, where were we?" I wondered why he was suddenly calling me doll. I wondered why he was leaning his face in towards me. Okay I figured that out pretty quickly and turned my face away.

"Don't."

"What? Why not? Don't you like me anymore?"

"People will see!" Okay, that might not be the best reason there is, but my brain wasn't feeding me anything more useful to say.

He straightened up a bit, so maybe he understood. "Okay, I get it."

I felt a bit relieved. I was still feeling fairly tense though. Then his hand started moving on my knee. He stroked my leg up to the hem of the jersey and back. My hands were still there on the hem of the jersey and I held on tightly, trying to make them into a wall, so his hand wouldn't go any further. His hand came up to mine and kind of nudged at my hands.

"Don't!"

"What? Why not? Nobody can see under the table. You're leg feels nice. I like to stroke it." He stroked up from my knee again. I didn't move my hands. "See? That feels good to you doesn't it?"

I looked at the table. Maybe it felt nice a bit. But mostly I was panicking that he might somehow get his hand underneath there and find out I was naked underneath. I didn't know what he would do then. I didn't know what he would think then. I had no idea what to say. All of those long talks with Mom and we'd never actually covered what to do in this situation. I really liked Lance. I just wanted to sit and talk.

"Can't we just sit and talk?"

"We are just sitting and talking." His hand moved up and down my leg again.

Finally, I'd had enough. I twisted slightly and looked him in the eye. "Take your hands off me, please. I don't want to do this right now. If you can't just talk to me without trying to touch me all the time, then I'll just leave."

He smiled this big grin, and took his hands off me — holding them up in surrender.

"Okay! Okay! See, I'm not touching you." He was grinning, but his eyes were still cool. "What's with you anyway? On the bus, you were all over me. Now suddenly you've gone all frigid."

"Frigid? I'm not all frigid. I just want to sit and talk for a while. What's wrong with that?"

He stood up and held out one hand to me. "Okay, if you're not frigid then prove it. Come outside with me and we'll go for a walk."

I sat staring at his face, and at his hand. I knew what he meant by 'go for a walk.' Why was he being like this? I'd had such a good time this evening and now he was spoiling it. Why couldn't he just sit and talk with me for a while. I certainly wasn't going outside with him right now — not with me feeling insecure and with him being all bossy. I stared at him some more and he dropped his hand. I thought I saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but I was probably imagining that. I dropped my head down and stared at the table. I didn't want to talk anymore.

One of my hands reached up and clasped the heavy weight of Nana's locket through my jersey. I seemed to have spent a lot of time today holding it. Oh well, I guess that's the reason I wore it in the first place. Out of the corner of my eye, I was aware of his legs turning and walking away. There were some crumbs on the table. I spent some time lining them up in a single line. Then I made the line curve up and down into a wave. I swapped some of the crumbs around so the biggest ones were at the bottom of the wave. I pushed them around some more until they formed a spiral.

"Sitting all alone sweetie?" I looked up in surprise. It was a middle-aged woman wearing the standard uniform and smock of the pizza place. She leaned forward and ran her cleaning cloth back and forth over the table. I pulled my hands out of her way and let her wipe.

"You should go back and join the party. Everyone seems to be having a good time."

She smiled at me, then moved onto the next empty table. I looked down at the table top but my pretty little spiral was gone — wiped away into oblivion. Oblivion — that was a good word. I tried to remember when I'd learnt that word but I couldn't. Oblivion! My happy mood had been wiped away into oblivion. I saw a picture in my brain of my happy mood looking like a balloon floating further and further away, while a little version of me, in pigtails and a gingham dress went chasing after it. Finally, little me stood on the edge of oblivion, looking vainly for my lost mood, wondering if I should go in there after it.

"Are you ready to go?" asked my brain. "Maybe," little me answered, "but I'm not sure if I should."

Wait a minute, that wasn't my brain — that was Dan. I looked up (and up and up) and saw Dan standing next to the table, his hands casually stuck in the pockets of his jeans. Pearl stood beside him with her hand looped comfortable around his forearm and a gentle smile on her face.

"What?" I ran his words back through my brain. "Am I ready to go? I guess so."

"I'll drop you home and Pearl and I will go someplace quiet for coffee before I take her back to her apartment."

I looked at Dan and Pearl. They looked so relaxed and so ... happy. Little me made a new balloon out of my bad mood and threw it into oblivion where it could join my lost good mood and circle around and around forever. Then little me turned and faced back towards the light.

I put a smile on my face. "That sounds like a plan."

-------

In the car, Pearl wanted to continue our Monopoly game.

"Okay, but it's your turn. Let's use that car ... six! You got a six."

"Fine, I move my little shoe six places. I suppose I started on GO, so where do I land?" Pearl looked at me, with one eyebrow raised in challenge.

I closed my eyes and looked inside my brain at the Monopoly board and carefully slid the shoe forward six places from GO. "Angie's square. You landed on Angie's square."

"Huh?"

"Our little sister, Angela," explained Dan. "You must have landed on 'The Angel, Islington.' We call it Angie's square because she's our little angel."

"How old is Angela?"

"She's three. Usually she really is an angel." I closed my eyes and little pictures ran through my brain of Angie flying around in a white nightgown with little feathery wings. "Sometimes if she's being a nuisance, we call her our little angel but we say it sarcastically." I had to make my mouth into strange shapes to say sarcastically. It felt strange to say it. I replayed saying it again in my head — sarcastically.

"So I've landed on the Angel square. Can I buy it? How much does it cost?"

I could picture the square in my head. It's one of the pale-blue ones. "One hundred pounds and a cuddle with Angie. She's not here, so you'll have to make it an IOU."

"Oh! One hundred pounds. That's a lot. I'm not sure if I can afford that much."

Dan snorted. "Ain't that the truth. If you give away one hundred pounds, there won't be much of you left. Ow!" The 'ow' was because Pearl had poked him in the ribs. She was smiling though and I was trying not to giggle. Well it was a bit funny.

"Well maybe you could pay something else." I suggested.

"How about I pay with a song?" She licked her lips and glanced sideways at each of us in turn. "In honor of the English version, and that I am buying the Angel square, this one might be suitable." Then with a nice, clear, sweet voice she launched into the Robbie Williams song, 'Angels.'

Dan and I joined in when she got to "And through it all, she offers me protection, a lot of love and affection, whether I'm right or wrong ... I'm loving angels instead."

Dan and I voted immediately that she'd certainly paid enough to buy 'The Angel, Islington' but that she still had to IOU a cuddle with Angie.

Then it was my turn, and I ended up with a six also, so that put my little dog on Angie's square just next to Pearl's shoe. "Don't ask me what the rental is, I don't remember all those sorts of things."

"Don't worry," said Pearl. "I think for rent, you should give me a hug and a kiss."

That was easy, I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed a bit, then I gave her a peck on the side of her mouth. We both laughed and giggled through all of this of course. Dan was a bit quiet. Of course he was driving, so that made it hard for him to join in a bit. But I still wanted to know why he was being quiet while Pearl and I were having so much fun.

"What are you thinking about, Dan?"

"I'm just feeling sad because I used up my 'Get Out of Jail Free' card earlier. What do I have to do to get another one?"

"You just have to do something nice for me, that's all."

"Oh? Something nice? How nice do I have to be? What did I do to earn that one?"

"Well," I said, thinking quickly, "about a week after I was born, I was feeling all miserable and you blew raspberries on my tummy and made me all giggly and happy. So you got a 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card for that."

Pearl looked at me strangely. "You remember that? I find that hard to believe."

"I don't remember anything from when I was just born. When our sister Angie was a baby, he started doing that to her. I asked Mom if he did that to me too, so she told me all about it. He still does it to Angie sometimes."

"That's sweet!" Pearl looked at Dan with a gorgeous smile. Dan kind of ducked his head in embarrassment then he looked up and concentrated on his driving. I looked across at his face and saw that he wasn't really ashamed of having done stuff like that. He was just a bit embarrassed about me talking about it in front of Pearl.

"Um! Bec, that was a long time ago. I'm sure I've done a few nice things for you between then and now."

"Oh you have," I said with a really big smile. I was feeling good. My happy mood bubble had definitely found its way back from oblivion. "It's just that it makes sense to use up your cards in the order that you got them. So far I figure you've used up about a week's worth of cards."

"Wow!" said Pearl. "That means that you either do a lot of nice things or you don't do many mean things."

I shrugged. "A bit of both."

"So," asked Dan a bit fearfully, "have I done enough nice things since then to earn another 'Get Out Of Jail' card?"

"Oh yeah! Several in fact."

"Hmmm. How many is several?"

I shrugged again. "I'm not sure. I kind of lost count after about a million, gazillion."

Then I giggled and smiled across at Dan. Pearl laughed and Dan smiled back at me.

"So I have a million, gazillion of those things? That's a whole lot of cards. I suppose that makes me feel better."

"You weren't listening," put in Pearl. "She said she lost count after a million, gazillion. That probably means you have a few more than that."

"Good point. That makes me feel even better still."

I glared across the car at Dan. "Just don't count on always being able to use them. Some things the cards don't work for. You just have to do your time in jail and hope that I'll eventually forgive you. Things like kidnapping Lucy for instance."

"Who's Lucy?" Pearl wanted to know.

"Lucy was one of Bec's dolls. I was playing around one day and hid Lucy from her. This was back when Bec was about four or five. It didn't end well. Apparently I won't be forgiven until I'm old and grey."

Dan said that cheerfully. He was showing absolutely no remorse whatsoever. The cheek of the guy!

He definitely didn't deserve any forgiveness if that was his attitude.

Not that I'd admit to out loud anyway!

I looked out the window and smiled to myself.

Sometimes life is just ... good!



-------

Chapter 27 : Late Friday Evening Part 2



We were only about five minutes from home when Dan's phone started ringing. He pulled over to the side of the road and answered it. His side of the conversation made it really hard to figure out what was going on. After a bit, he turned and looked across Pearl at me.

"It's Mom. She says Tara hasn't come home yet. She was supposed to be at the mall and it would have closed ages ago. Mom's asking if you know where Tara would be. If you do, we're to collect her and bring her home."

I bit my lip. She'd told me after school that they were going to a party at the top end of Power Street. Tara had wanted me to cover for her, but I didn't think I was going to be able to get her out of this one. I nodded to Dan. "I know roughly where she was going. I can show you."

Dan told Mom we were going to go fetch Tara and we'd be home soon. He hung up and apologized to Pearl about the detour. She shrugged and made it clear she was having fun whatever happened. I thought to myself that it sure wasn't an ordinary date for her.

It didn't take us long to get to Power Street. I told Dan to head up to the top end, then to slow down because we were looking for a party. I didn't know exactly what house it was in but I figured if we drove up and down, we'd be able to hear it. We found the party really quickly. It was the only house at that end of the street with cars lined up outside and with all the lights blazing and with music pumping out.

Dan pulled his car across the end of the driveway. I told him to wait there and I would fetch Tara out. I opened the door and slid out of the car. I figured if I went in and brought Tara out, then Dan wouldn't find out that it was a party for high schoolers. It was mostly to try and make me feel better about not having covered for her like she asked me too. That plan came unstuck immediately, because just then a couple of high school boys came out of the house and staggered off down the street.

Dan was out of the car like a shot. "What sort of party is this? Get back in the car and lock the doors. I think I better go find her." Dan headed towards the house with a pretty stern expression on his face. I decided to stick with him. Maybe I could calm him down a bit and stop him from yelling at Tara in front of all of her friends.

Dan just walked straight in through the front door, and I followed right behind. Inside, it was really noisy and I could smell cigarette smoke and something else. There were a couple of teenagers leaning against the wall of the entry hall, hugging and kissing each other. Dan turned left into the main living room and I started to follow him, but then I saw that an open door on the right that lead into a sort of sitting room, with a quarter-circle of armchairs and couches facing a blank TV screen.

Tracey — that's Laura's Robot Number Two — was sitting in one of the armchairs. More accurately, she was sitting on the lap of a guy at least three years older than her, who was sitting in one of the armchairs. Tracey looked pretty uncomfortable. As I got closer, I saw that the guy had one arm wrapped around her waist and was groping her boob through her opened blouse, while the other hand disappeared up inside her skirt.

"Tracey!" She saw me and started to blush. "Do you know where Tara is? I have to find her."

Tracey's eyes, flicked to the side, then back to me. Then she started twisting and pushing as she tried to remove the hands that were attached to her. I took two more steps forward and I could see a guy lying face down on the couch. Except that there were a couple of extra, pale little legs underneath him — it was Tara being half-squished, half-groped and thoroughly kissed. I was a tiny bit relieved to see that her panties were still on. I was more than a bit shocked at how easily I could see that her panties were still on. The ridiculously small miniskirt she was wearing was rucked up around her waist.

This went through my brain while I called out to Tara and tried to drag the guy off of her. It was amazingly easy — I don't think he was expecting to be grabbed by the back of his shirt and by his belt and dragged sideways. He slipped off Tara and thumped onto the floor. I was calling him a lot of names and he sounded a bit cross at me for what I'd done to him. Tara lay on her back with her skirt around her waist and her top all pushed up to her collar-bones. Her boobs aren't that big and lying on her back like that had made them flatten out until they were almost invisible — but what was visible kind of wobbled as her body shook. She looked up at me with really big eyes and her mouth was gaping open like a fish.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was kind of small — I think she was a bit embarrassed.

Dan poked his head through the door and I called him over. Before he got there, though, I quickly pulled Tara's top down to cover her chest. It didn't go down very far — it was a really short top. I also managed to flip her skirt down enough to cover her panties before Dan saw them.

Tara saw Dan come to stand beside the couch and her eyes started to leak tears. The boy who'd been all over her had got to his feet and was calling me names for interfering with his so-called date. I just ignored him and concentrated on getting Tara onto her feet. That was a bit harder than I expected because she was all uncoordinated.

I felt a hand grip my arm and pull me away from Tara. She slumped back onto the couch. I spun around to glare at the idiot who'd grabbed me. I didn't get to say anything though because Dan got in first.

"Take your hands off my sister." His voice was quiet and controlled and sounded very, very dangerous.

"What are you going to do about it?" The idiot was sneering at Dan and squeezing my arm. It kind of hurt a bit.

"Don't worry about me," smiled Dan. "All I'm going to do is hit you a few times until you fall down. What you should really be worrying about is what she will do to you. She can get a bit feisty when she's crossed and right now she's looking seriously pissed."

The guy looked down at me and I glared at him. I guess I tried to look extra-pissed. It wasn't that hard to do because I really was getting mad. I jerked my arm back and he let go enough for me to get my arm free. What was it with guys trying to grab me tonight? I was completely sick of it. Okay, maybe Dan thought he was messing with the idiot's head, but right then I was ready to do some serious damage.

Fortunately it didn't come to that. The idiot muttered about needing a drink and made a very fast exit. Tara was sitting on the couch giggling.

Giggling? "Are you drunk? Have you been drinking?"

"No! Well, just the punch."

"Come on, we're taking you home," said Dan. He swooped down and picked her up under her knees and shoulders. We headed for the door.

"I think they spiked the punch," a little voice spoke up behind me. I turned to see Tracey who had managed to fight free of the octopus that had been holding her. She was watching us leave, with a frightened look in her eyes. I couldn't blame her, the octopus was emerging from the armchair and was reaching out for her with at least four hands — well maybe not, but that's what it looked like.

To my amazement, I actually started to feel sorry for her. "Would you like a lift home?"

The grateful look in her eyes shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. I guess I wasn't used to thinking about her as anything other than a mindless Laura-clone. I gestured for her to follow me and started to leave. Dan was already out the door with Tara.

"Hey, don't I even get a goodbye kiss?" muttered the octopus. Tracey hesitated, then turned and reached up to peck his cheek. The octopus was having none of that and grabbed her then mashed his mouth down over hers. I grabbed Tracey's arm and literally wrenched her out of his grasp then I dragged her out of the room.

"Where's the other Laura-clone?" Okay, that might not have been polite, but I wasn't feeling polite.

"What?"

"Tara, you and the other one — the three Laura-clones," I explained. "I don't even know her name. Where's the other Laura-clone?"

"She went home. She had to baby-sit." I notice that Tracey didn't complain about my label for them. I wondered briefly if clone number three had actually had to baby-sit, or if she just came up with a believable excuse for getting out of coming to the party. I hadn't let go of Tracey, I was still dragging her all the way to the car. Dan was arranging Tara in the backseat and fastening a seat-belt around her. Tara was trying to help but I think she was being more of a hindrance than a help.

"Dan, we're taking Tracey home too."

Dan grunted and glanced back at Tracey. Tracey squirmed under his gaze and tried to straighten her too-short skirt.

"Damn right we're taking you home too. You had no place being in that party either."

I just knew I was going to hate myself for asking this, but I couldn't help myself. "What happened to Laura?"

"Um, she had a bit too much punch. One of the seniors took her upstairs to sleep it off."

I cursed to myself and headed back into the house. Don't ask me why I went back in for Laura, I honestly don't know. I think it's a character flaw or something.

Into the house I marched and up the stairs. There was a group of people, boys and girls, sitting on the stairs about halfway up. Their legs were blocking the way and I had to step over them to get up the stairs. I had to hold my dress — my jersey — tight around my legs as I stepped over them. It felt a bit awkward and one of the boys made noises like he was disappointed he didn't get to see my panties. All three of the girls sitting there reached over and punched him. Another of the guys had whistled at my legs, but he didn't get punched. I was tempted to go back and punch him myself so that he didn't feel left out, but I was on a mission to find Laura.

Upstairs there was a line outside what was obviously the bathroom. One of the bedrooms — it was obviously a guy's room — was open and had a group of people hanging around in it. I put my head in and looked around. They all stopped their conversation and stared at me. I couldn't see Laura anywhere so I pulled my head back and walked away. I tried to open another door but it was locked — from its position in the house, I assume it was the parents' bedroom.

I skirted around another group sitting on the floor of the hallway and opened another door. A bed lamp lit up what was obviously a girl's room. A naked girl lay flat on her back, sideways on the bed with her legs draped over the side. A guy stood between her legs with his pants down around his ankles. His naked bum pushed backwards and forwards in a kind of quick one-two rhythm. Each push forward was accompanied by a wet slapping sound and a quiet little gasp from the girl.

I blushed bright red and started to back out of the room — then I had a horrible thought. Grimly I fought the blush down and stalked over towards the bed. Sure enough, it was Laura lying there. I won't say she was being raped because she was lying there with a big smile on her face and letting out these happy little sighs every time he pushed his penis into her. On the other hand, she was probably drunk, she was fourteen and he looked like he was about eighteen, so yeah, I will say she was being raped.

By this time I was right beside the bed and getting a close up education about what sex looks like. The guy had noticed me and leered at me.

"Hey, some fresh meat! Just lay yourself down beside her, doll, and you can be next."

I leaned back and clenched my fist. Then I flung it forward as hard as I could, putting all my weight behind it just like Dan taught me to. My fist connected squarely with his nose and I felt something squelch inside his nose. There was a spray of blood and he staggered back from Laura. His slimy penis waved in the air, sticking straight out, then it started to shrink and droop. He clutched at his nose and started to swear. Then he fell backwards as he tripped over the pants around his ankles.

He was lying backwards on the floor with his legs all spread out. That left his little droopy penis and testicles dangling there all exposed. I was really tempted to step forward and stomp on them as hard as I could. I hesitated though because the feeling of his nose squishing and all the blood had scared me a bit. I did that. I hit someone and hurt them and made them bleed. Stomping on his private bits would probably hurt him a whole lot more and I wasn't sure if I was ready to do that to a person. I grabbed Nana's locket and glared down at him and started telling him what I thought about people who would have sex with drunk fourteen year olds.

There was all this muffled cursing and name calling coming from him and I think at one stage he said something like, "I dink you broke my dose!" (I left out all the swear words). I was yelling back at him and calling him a rapist and a few other things — just because I don't use those words very much, doesn't mean I don't know them.

He was struggling to get to his feet and he finally managed to do so by kicking his pants off. Then he came charging at me like a rhino with his fist raised ready to hit me. At this point I kind of regretting not stomping on his private bits while he was lying there, because that might have stopped him from getting up and therefore saved me from what was about to happen. Running was out of the question, because I had the bed directly behind me. Laura was still lying flat on the bed. I don't know what she was thinking. I screamed and flinched but then I decided that if he was going to hit me, then I was going to do as much damage to him as I possibly could. I had nails, I had teeth, I had knees — all I had to do was stay alive so I could use them.

Somehow I managed to duck under that first flailing fist. That was one advantage of being half the size of the person attacking you — I'm not sure if there are many others. It also might have helped that his other hand was still holding his nose. I could clearly see several lines of blood dripping down his naked chest — it makes me feel ill now as I think about it, but just then I didn't have much time to think. I dodged sideways to get away from the bed and backed off from him.

He took a step towards me and reached out with his free hand ready to grab a hold of me. Then suddenly he seemed to learn how to fly. He lifted up off the ground and flew sideways quite a few feet without touching the ground. He did touch the wall though. He slammed into it quite hard — I think he even made a hole in the wall-board.

I blinked and Dan was standing in front of me. I could see his eyes track up and down my body to check that I was okay, then he went over to the naked guy slumped against the wall. Dan pulled him upright, and I heard the guy mutter something like, "you better let me alode. I de quarterback of the school foo-ball deam. You hit be and you'll hab de whole varsty deam afder you." I think he was having trouble talking because of his nose.

I heard the smack of a fist hitting naked flesh and an "ooof!"

"I'll see your varsity team and raise you a college team, you little..." Okay, so Dan knows some of those words too. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by that.

At that moment there was a yell from the doorway. It was a girl with long black hair — she looked about seventeen or eighteen. "What are you doing to my f****ing boyfriend? Leave him alone, you f****ing overgrown brute." She was heading towards Dan in a hurry with her claws extended. I wanted to object to her description of Dan — he's not overgrown and he's not a brute. I stayed silent though.

By that time she was close enough to see more of her boyfriend. "He's f****ing bleeding, you bastard ... and where are his f****ing clothes?"

Dan had to let go of the boyfriend so that he could fend off the girl's attempts to scratch his eyes out. Dan pointed to me and managed to mutter "He was trying to..." before he had to dodge again.

I think she got the wrong idea, because she immediately headed towards me and started calling me a slut (and worse) and accusing me of trying to steal her boyfriend.

"Not me!" I gasped out as I stepped back from yet another attacker. I pointed at Laura. "Her!"

I think I must have been blocking her view, or something, because when I stepped to the side she seemed to see Laura, still lying flat on her back on the bed, for the first time. Laura's legs were spread apart and draped over the side of the bed, so basically both of us were looking right up inside of her. I thought it was a bit obscene. But if I'd had any questions about what a girl's private parts looked like from that angle, then they were all being answered. The girlfriend hesitated long enough for all of us to hear a soft snore come from Laura.

I was tempted to say, "She's the slut who tried to steal your boyfriend," but I couldn't bring myself to say that.

"I think he got her drunk or something, and then he brought her up here. And she's only fourteen."

The girlfriend screamed with rage, but this time directed at her boyfriend. Dan quickly stepped out of the way so she could get at him. "F****ing fourteen? In my bedroom? You were f****ing that kinder-slut? You were f****ing that kinder-slut in my bedroom? I'll f****ing kill you."

She stepped up to where he lay slumped against the wall and swung her foot straight up between his legs. He seemed to twist at the last minute, so I think she mostly hit his thigh rather than his testicles, but it obviously still hurt a lot as he immediately curled up into a little ball and started gasping. During all this she continued her tirade which now included phrases like, "get out of my f****ing house," and "you f****ing pedophile," and "I should cut your f****ing dick off."

It was kind of entertaining in a way, but I was tempted to teach her some new swear words — she only seemed to know the one.

At some point, the girlfriend had grabbed a softball bat out of her closet and proceeded to chase her boyfriend — well I should probably say her ex-boyfriend — out of the room. He had to weave his way through the audience that was crowded into the doorway — I hadn't realized that we had an audience up until that point. They spread out and made a path for him to stagger through. The girl waving her bat was hot on his heels. I could hear her tirade continue all the way down the stairs and out the front door. The audience disappeared from the doorway as they followed the entertainment.

I looked at Dan, and he looked at me. I jerked my thumb at Laura, still lying spread out on the bed and still snoring. "I think we better take her home too."

He nodded at me and together we started looking for her clothes on the floor around the bed. Dan found a top and I found a skirt — if you could call it that. It was more like a thin band of stretchy material that a person could wear around their hips. I also found a little thing which was a tiny triangle of gauzy material with a couple of strings attached to it. It took me a moment to realize this was a thong panty. I'd heard about them, but never seen one before. I tried to work out how to put the panty onto the sleeping Laura but something didn't seem right. I had to hold them up as if I was about to put them onto myself before I worked out that one of the strings was broken.

Dan was on the other side of the bed, lifting Laura's top half up and shifting her arms around so that he could slide her top on. It matched the skirt in both color and size. I pulled Laura's legs together and started to work the skirt up her legs and over her hips and under her bum. It wasn't easy but I was managing.

At that point, the girl came back in. She came right over to stand beside me and helped lift Laura's bum off the bed, so I could slide the skirt into place.

"I'm sorry I said those things to you before, I suppose I jumped to f****ing conclusions about what was going on."

"That's okay. No harm done. Do you think I could borrow a pair of panties from you?" I held up Laura's thong. "Hers got broken and with that skirt on, everyone is going to get a look at her as we carry her out of the house."

"No problem." She went to a drawer and pulled out a clean pair of plain pale-blue cotton panties. They didn't match the skirt, but I didn't care and Laura wasn't in a position to object. Then together we started putting them onto Laura.

"You must be a f****ing good friend of hers, to be doing all this for her."

I laughed to myself. I laughed at myself. I had no idea why I was helping Laura like this.

"Not really. In fact, I pretty well hate her. But she's a friend of my sister, so..." I shrugged. "Anyway, there's that saying, you know? There are things I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. This might be one of them."

"When she wakes up, will you tell her I'm sorry for what my f****ing ex-boyfriend did to her. If she's not on the pill, she should get to a pharmacy and take a morning-after pill. The f****ing moron didn't even use a f****ing condom."

"Yes, well, I'm not sure if she'll want to hear it from me. I'll try to find some way to pass the message on. Looking at the way she's dressed, I don't think she was completely innocent in this."

We finally had the panties in place and the skirt tugged down — it was just long enough to cover them but not by much. I gestured to Dan and he picked her up off the bed.

"Thanks for your help, and sorry about your bedroom." I pointed at the big person-sized dint in the wall-board.

"Oh well, it was about f****ing time I redecorated. That just gives me a f****ing excuse."

-------

We buckled Laura into the last space in the backseat and propped her head against Tara's shoulder. She'd kind of half-woken while Dan carried her out of the house but had gone back to sleep. The octopus and the idiot had given us greasy glares as we walked past them but they didn't try anything — or say anything.

Before he got back into the car, Dan pulled out his phone to call our parents and let them know we'd found Tara but we were going to be delayed while we took Tracey and Laura home.

I bit my lip and hesitated but I had to say something. I knew what had to be done, it just wasn't my place to say it. "Dan," I whispered — not wanting Tara to hear. "I don't know if they will listen to you, but they are going to want to punish Tara for this — for coming to the party I mean. This isn't time for one of their fancy games. She really needs to be kept away from Laura for a little while so she can sort herself out. You know — an old-fashioned grounding or whatever."

I felt a bit guilty about suggesting that my older sister be grounded, but given what she had said to me after school, it was the only thing I could think of that would help her. Dan just nodded to me and then gestured to me to get in the car while he spoke to Dad. The conversation seemed to take a while.

Inside the car, there was an embarrassed silence coming from Tara and Tracey, broken only by Laura's little snores. I looked sideways at Pearl. She was sitting quite upright in the middle seat with a tiny smile on her face.

"I'm really sorry that your date with Dan is getting all messed up."

"Don't be silly, Bec. This has been most entertaining. For example, a few minutes ago I got to watch a completely naked young man with blood dripping from his nose come limping out of the house with one hand clutching his family jewels. He was chased off down the road by a raven-haired amazon armed with a softball bat. This all seemed to happen soon after you went back into the house. I couldn't help wondering if you might have had something to do with that." She was smiling as she spoke to me and I realized that she really was having fun.

I think I blushed a bit. "Maybe," I said really softly. "I think I might have broken his nose." I looked at my hand and there was a little smear of blood on my knuckles. It wasn't my blood. I wasn't feeling too good about having hurt him like that, no matter how much he seemed to have deserved it. My hand was shaking a little bit, and I felt a bit queasy in my stomach. Pearl found some tissues in her handbag and helped me clean the blood off. That made me feel a bit better — not much, but a bit.

Finally Dan was finished on the phone and he got back into the car. He nodded across at me and then started the engine. I guess the nod meant that Tara was going to be grounded. I'd suggested it and now it was going to happen. That felt really weird.

The car was pretty quiet as we drove to Tracey's place. The only one who really said anything was Tracey giving Dan directions on when to turn and so on. I was feeling a bit shaky, so I was just sitting quietly and clutching Nana's locket. Dan parked and walked Tracey to her front door. I could see him talking to someone, I think it was Tracey's sister. Then she and Tracey disappeared inside and Dan came back to the car.

Tara had to give directions to Laura's place. Tara was slurring her words a bit, but she wasn't too bad. Laura's place had a closed metal gate across the driveway and a speaker box with a button. Dan pulled up next to that and pressed the button.

After a moment the box crackled and a crabby old-woman's voice asked, "Yes, can I help you?"

"Could I speak to Mr or Mrs DiMartino please?"

"No I'm sorry, neither of the DiMartinos are available. Anyway, it's too late for visitors, please come back tomorrow."

"Wait!" called out Dan.

"Ask for Melissa," I whispered.

"Can I speak to Melissa DiMartino please?"

"I'll see if she's available," grumbled the voice and the box went dead.

I climbed out of the car and trotted around to the speaker box.

After a moment, it crackled back to life and I could hear Melissa's voice. "Hello?"

"Hi Melissa, it's me, Bec Freeman. We have your sister here in the car with us."

"What happened to her? Is she alright?"

"She's fine. She's just drunk."

I could hear her sigh. "Drive up past the front door and around the side of the building. I'll meet you at the side door."

The gate buzzed and then quietly swung open. I climbed into the car and we drove up the curving drive to the house. I was amazed at the size of the property and the size of the house. I knew there were some big houses up at this end of town but I'd never even been inside the fence of one before. I guess it wasn't as big and fancy as those movie-star mansions but it was still pretty impressive. Dan followed Melissa's instructions and saw a side entrance with a light on and Melissa standing there in slippers, satin pyjamas and a long robe. They were classy and made her look elegant. I wish I could look elegant in night-wear.

I got out of the car again and went to talk to Melissa, while Dan lifted Laura out of the car.

"What happened?"

"They were at a high school party. The punch was spiked. I think she might have had some extra as well. Laura ended up having sex in a bedroom with a senior. He didn't use a condom either, so I hope Laura is on birth control pills. If she isn't, the girl whose house it was said something about a morning after pill at a pharmacist."

Melissa sighed. "Thanks for bringing her home. My parents are both out of the state at the moment, so I guess I get to take care of her."

"Who's supposed to be looking after you?"

Melissa pointed a finger at Laura, slumped in Dan's arms. "She is." Melissa turned and led us into the house. "We have Mavis, the housekeeper. She's the token 'adult presence, ' but she doesn't come out of her room at this time of night unless the house is on fire, so in reality Laura's in charge."

Melissa led us into a beautifully decorated bedroom that was large enough to fit my bedroom and Tara's into it and still have room to spare. It had an ensuite and a walk-in closet and looked glorious. Melissa walked straight over to the large four-poster bed and stripped the covers back.

"Could you just put her straight down onto the bed? Thanks very much." She watched as Dan lowered Laura onto the bed and arranged her head on the pillow. Then Melissa slipped Laura's shoes off and pulled the covers up over her. "You must be Dan, the football player. Is that right?"

"Oh!" I said, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I should have introduced you. Dan this is Melissa. She's in my class at school and obviously she's Laura's sister."

They said hi to each other. "Is it just the two of you here?"

"No, I have two younger brothers."

"Who looks after them?"

"She's supposed to, but it usually ends up being me. Thanks again for bringing her home, I'll show you out."

We were led back out to the door and Melissa waved farewell.

I watched with fascination as the gate quietly swung open for us as we left. There must be sensors under the pavement or something because we didn't have to press a button or anything.

As we drove back to our place, Pearl and I exchanged a few comments about the DiMartino house. Tara was still silent in the back seat. When we pulled up at our house, I invited Pearl inside.

"Perhaps I better just wait out here until Dan can drive me home. I don't want to get into the middle of any big family confrontation about..." she gestured with her head towards Tara.

"Don't worry about that. They'll save all the lectures for tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Just come in, you'll see. You've already met Dad, so it's not like a big thing or anything."

Dan joined in my request for her to come in with us and she soon gave in and agreed.

Inside, Mom and Dad were waiting for us. They took one look at Tara and the clothes she was wearing, then turned to greet Pearl. Mom had that half-smile on her face, so I could tell she was pissed. Dad introduced Pearl to Mom and explained how he'd sat with her and her friends during the game and had really enjoyed chatting with them.

With that vote of approval, Mom immediately invited her to stay and have coffee in our kitchen instead of going out and paying for it. "We're going to bed now, so you and Dan are welcome to sit in the kitchen for as long as you like. I was baking this evening to get ready for Sunday and I made extra so feel free to help yourself to a couple of fresh biscuits if you'd like them."

"Cookies, Mom, they're called cookies here." I felt I had to explain ... again.

"Bec, would you help Tara get to bed. It looks like she could use a hand. We'll talk to you both in the morning. Good night, everyone!"

The Parents turned and headed off to their room. I took Tara's wrist and guided her to her room and Dan showed Pearl to the kitchen. Tara wasn't much help getting herself undressed. It ended up being easier just to tell Tara to stand still while I took off her top and skirt.

"These aren't your clothes, Tara. Where did they come from?"

"They're Laura's. She said we needed decent party clothes to wear if we were going to a party."

I shook my head in disgust. If Tara was really worried about being persuaded to have sex, then she should have been wearing something more difficult to take off her — like jeans or something. Mom's endless lectures had at least taught me that much. Finally I had her undressed down to her panties. I found a nightie for her and guided it down over her head and helped her put her arms into the right holes.

"Did you have to tell Dan where I was? I'm going to be grounded until I'm twenty. That'll be your fault." She was more whining than angry, but I was suddenly furious with her.

"Mom was frantic about you. Even if I didn't say anything, you were already late home so you'd have been grounded anyway. You stink of cigarettes and alcohol so you would have been busted as soon as you walked through the door. At least this way, Dan and I got you out of there before you ended up doing something you really didn't want to do. You told me today, you didn't want to do it, but there you were on the couch with that idiot on top of you. I'm betting it would have been less than ten minutes more before you were in the same situation as your lovely friend Laura. Now stop trying to blame me for you being an idiot and get into bed."

Amazingly enough, she didn't argue and just crawled into bed. I helped adjust the blankets over her and turned off the light as I left the room. I've lived with Tara all my life — even shared a bedroom with her back in England — but I still really don't understand her.

Back in the kitchen I said goodnight to Dan and Pearl. They were sitting at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee and a plate of biscuits — I mean cookies — in front of them. They invited me to stay and have a cookie, but I just shook my head and said I would just go to bed. Finally they could have some time on their own.

Dan grabbed me for a hug, then ducked his head down and blew a raspberry on my stomach through the jersey. I squealed and squirmed trying to get free of him.

"Dan, what are you doing? Stop that!"

"I'm just trying to earn me another of those 'Get Out Of Jail' cards."

Dan was grinning at me, then he bent his head down and did it again.

I squealed again. "Dan, you overgrown brute!" Okay, that other girl might not be allowed to say it, but I am. "That doesn't work now. I'm not a baby anymore." Pearl was laughing her head off. Okay, maybe I was giggling a bit too. "Dan! Stop it!"

I was squirming around trying to get away from him — and occasionally slapping his shoulder or arm or back to try and get his attention. Suddenly he stopped and went "huh?"

Somehow the jersey had lifted all the way up to my waist, exposing me totally! I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out.

"Bec?" he suddenly realized what he was doing and dragged the hem down again until I was covered up. I was completely red from my hair to my toes. "Bec, where are your clothes? Where's your underwear? Why... ?" Pearl had gone all quiet.

I went from flushed to furious in two seconds and slapped his arm hard. "Because SOMEONE made my clothes all wet! SOMEONE thought it would be funny to tip ice water all over me. I had nothing else to wear, what was I supposed to do?" I slapped him again. I was being careful to slap him on the arm where it wouldn't do too much damage, but I still hit him hard. I wanted him to know I was angry.

"You should have said something."

"Said what? Said what? Oh Dan, I'm completely naked underneath this shirt? I WAS EMBARRASSED! No one was supposed to know! Nobody did know, until you decided to play 'treat little sister like a baby' games."

"I'm sorry, Bec. I'm sorry. I didn't think."

He reached for me, trying to hug me, but I slapped his hands away. "Don't touch me!"

I turned and walked out of the kitchen, but I stopped in the doorway. Something inside me wouldn't let me leave it like that. I leaned my head against the wall and tried to collect myself. I hated being angry with Dan. I knew he was feeling horrible right now. I hated having made him feel that way. I hated that I'd hit him like that — at least I hadn't punched him in the nose. I knew that if I went into my room now, I would never get to sleep.

I turned around and walked back into the kitchen. Dan and Pearl had been silently watching me while I leant against the wall. I was walking carefully as if putting my foot down too hard would hurt me, or break a magic spell or something. I walked around the table to Pearl and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

"Good night, Pearl." My voice was so quiet I had to lean close so she could hear me. "I had a good time with you in the car. I hope you will stay and enjoy the coffee and biscuits. Mom uses Nana's old recipe and they really are delicious."

I walked over to be close to Dan but didn't touch him. He didn't try to touch me either; he just left his hands on the table. He did watch me with big eyes though. "I love you Dan. I had a really good time tonight at the game. Thank you for getting me involved. I'm a bit tired. Maybe I over-reacted. I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry that I hit you. Good night. I'll see you in the morning."

I turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Inside my room, I closed the door and leant back against it.

I felt the last of my emotions drain out of me and seep into the wood of the door. Anger, embarrassment, love, happiness — it all just drained out of me and flowed away.

Completely empty, I slid down the door and sat curled up on the floor with my back against the door. I tucked the jersey over my knees and dragged it down so that I was covered down to my ankles. Then I rested my head on my knees and stared into the darkness of the room.

Even though the room was dark, I could feel them watching me. The painted, frozen editions of myself hung on my walls in the darkness and the silence and they watched me.

"Well!" I said to my hidden audience. "That was one hell of a day!"



-------

Chapter 28 : Early Saturday Morning

I was painting. It was sometime after midnight on Saturday morning and I was dressed in my favorite long flannel pyjamas with panties and a vest underneath. It's amazing how much security you can feel from just having proper underwear on. Oh, and since I was painting, of course I had thrown on a painting shirt over the top. It had been bugging me for days that I hadn't had time to finish the second painting on my closet doors. Well I'd been lying in my bed, not sleeping, and I figured — why not do it now? So I was painting.

The other thing I'd figured out while I was lying in my bed not sleeping was that I hadn't actually slept on my own since last Saturday night or maybe it was Sunday night — my memory was a bit vague about a few details. Every night since then, I'd either been sharing a bed with someone, or not been able to sleep properly until I went and crawled into someone else's bed, or just not slept properly. I guess I understand that for some of those nights I'd been really upset so it wasn't that surprising that I would have trouble sleeping. The annoying thing was that I'd gone to bed last night feeling more or less okay. Sure, I'd just had a fight with Dan, but I'd said I was sorry to him before I went to bed. Apart from that, I was feeling okay. So why couldn't I go to sleep?

I love the way oil paint sits so heavy on the brush. You can push it and shape it or smear it onto your canvas. You can stretch it out thin or pile it up thick. It has texture and the colors are full — not washed out like some water-paints are. I love to paint. You can lose yourself in the painting — building up layer after layer — slowly but surely pulling a picture out of the mess of colors. I love painting — so I was painting.

Once I'd worked out that I was having a problem sleeping without someone else in the bed, you would think the solution would be obvious. All I had to do was creep down the hallway into Dan's room and crawl into his bed and cuddle up to him and I'd be as snug as a bug in a rug. The only flaw in that plan was that I'd overheard Mom and Dan saying this morning that if I didn't stay away from him, then he would have to move out of home. I didn't think I could cope with that right now, so that just meant I had to stay away from him. I'd sat in the bathroom after hearing that conversation and decided the short term pain of not being able to sleep in the bed with Dan was worth putting up with if it saved me from the big gi-normous heartache of him moving out of home. What really worried me was that maybe that wouldn't be enough. Maybe I shouldn't touch Dan at all. If that's what it took to stop Dan from moving out, then that's what I would do.

So now I had a new plan. I wouldn't hug Dan. I wouldn't kiss Dan. I wouldn't hold his hand and I certainly wouldn't crawl into bed with him. I'd mostly done that today anyway, except for that one time in the middle of the football game when I was kissing all the players. I'd kissed Dan too but he had asked me to so that doesn't count — does it? He'd touched me a couple of times, during the evening — grabbed my hands, wrestled with me, blew raspberries on my tummy — but all that doesn't count — does it? I mean if he does it to me, it's not my fault is it — so I can't be punished by them making Dan move out of home. That makes sense, doesn't it?

I had Nana's locket around my neck. That had helped me all day. I could hold it tight and think of the pictures of Nana and Mom inside and pretend they were hugging me when I felt a bit low. I discovered it didn't help me go to sleep though. So I was painting.

I'd stood in the middle of my room and held Nana's locket in my hand. All the various painted Becs had looked down at me from their positions on my wall.

"Hello my name is Rebecca and I'm a Dan-oholic!"

"Hi Rebecca!" they all sung out in unison.

"It's been fifteen hours since the last time I hugged Dan."

"Aaah!" they all said.

I didn't know what to say after that. That little scene had appeared in several TV programs and films that I'd seen. It's usually about people who drink too much. One time it was about someone who ate too much chocolate. They always cut away to another scene after that line though so I had no idea what comes next. So I just picked up my paintbrush and started painting.

I couldn't crawl into bed with Dan and I couldn't sleep in my own bed. I couldn't get into bed with my parents because, well, Dad went all weird every time I did that until I couldn't stand it anymore and stopped trying. I suppose I could have curled up with Angie but she tended to move a lot during the night. Every time she turned over, she'd fling her arms and legs around. It was like sleeping with a thrashing machine — I don't know what a thrashing machine is, that's just Mom's expression, but you sure get hit often enough to feel as if you've been thrashed. Hold on, surely they wouldn't have a machine they put children into and it thrashed them — would they?

I guess that leaves Tara. I was kind of leaving her as a last resort — in case I got desperate if you know what I mean. Tara and I have a sort of love/hate thing going and right now it leans a bit more towards the hate side of things. After all, I had probably just got her grounded by telling Dan about how she'd gone to a party full of high schoolers. She was a bit drunk too, so that didn't help. I guess what I'm saying is that I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome if I tried to cuddle up to Tara right now. So I was painting.

It was the middle of the night and the house was silent. The only sound was the scritching noise of my brush stirring up the paint on my palette and depositing it on the wooden door of my closet. I was up to that stage where you keep stepping back and looking at the whole painting, then stepping up and doing two little dabs to bring out the nose a bit more, then stepping away and looking again — and so on.

It's after midnight. That means there's only one more day to go until I'm a teenager. A thirteenth birthday is an important day in someone's life. It's like a milestone or something. It's the day you officially stop being a child and start being a teenager. I remember when Tara turned thirteen — that was only a year and a half, nearly two years ago. She had two parties. One party was the family one for all the relatives where the adults sat around and talked about adult stuff while we children crowded into Tara's bedroom and put on some real music and talked about real stuff. She also had a 'friends party' where the house was full of girls and they all made a fuss about Angie but ignored me. I wasn't sure if that was a bad thing or a good thing.

A couple of weeks ago, Mom and Dad had asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday. At the time it had been obvious. I just wanted to have Liz over for a sleepover. That kind of developed into us going to a movie together in the afternoon, then her coming over, and then she would be staying for the family party on Sunday. Now that it was about to happen, I was kind of wishing I had more friends so that I could have a house full of noise and excitement. Was it something wrong with me that meant I didn't have enough friends to have a party? There were going to be just two of us. How pathetic is that? What were we going to do? Put on our party dresses and sit staring at each other? How many party games can you play with two people? Pass the parcel would be downright silly! I'm so pathetic.

I stopped painting. The stupid thing was finished anyway. It wasn't very good. The hands were all wrong and the broken mirror didn't look even a bit like it was supposed to. Maybe I should just scrape it all off and have a plain white door. That would look better than this. The only thing that stopped me throwing my palette and brushes at it in disgust was the life-time of training from The Mother about how to treat artwork (no matter how bad) and equipment. I supposed I should clean up the brushes and stuff, but to do that properly I'd have to go out to Mom's studio and no way was I going out to the shed in the middle of the night. I pulled the plastic film-wrap back over the palette so it wouldn't dry out and put it back in the corner where it had lived for the last couple of days.

I looked around the room. Bed? No point! Homework? In the middle of the night? No way! Computer? All my regular e-friends would be off-line at this time of the night. Wait a minute. I had one cyber-friend who was always there. She wasn't very chatty, but at least she would be a friendly face. I woke up my computer (password, of course) and typed in Cindi's URL. The stupid Internet Nanny program that Dad had installed rejected it, of course. That wasn't too surprising really because after all, Cindi is on a porn site. That was okay. I logged into it using Dad's password and changed Cindi's site to "permitted." There she was, laid out flat on her bed, her naked skin glistening in the light. She stared out at me and I smiled to see her.

Dad's password had taken me ages to find. I'd tried all the obvious names and dates and combinations. I guess he was too smart to use an easy password. In the end I called Dad into the room and asked him to change something in the program. Then I stood back and watched out of the corner of my eye while he typed in his password. I just memorised the way his fingers moved on the keyboard. It was pretty sneaky, I guess, and I felt a bit bad about tricking Dad like that. It wasn't that I wanted to be able to look at sex stuff all the time, it was just that the stupid program blocked out half the internet sites in the world because there was some word on the site that was on its banned list. It was frustrating. It was like using a dictionary with every second page torn out. I did a food assignment and it blocked any site that talked about Virgin Olive Oil. Any other sort of Olive Oil was okay, but apparently I'd be corrupted if I found out about Virgin Olive Oil. Go figure!

I slumped on my chair and looked at Cindi. I liked her. She seemed so calm and serene. She looked like she was about my age, but she was so much more confident. She looked so happy. Mom was convinced that she was probably being abused by her parents or had been kidnapped and was being held captive or something, but I wasn't so sure. How could a girl smile like that if she was being abused? Someone who'd been treated like that would surely be miserable — even more miserable than me.

Wait a minute? Why was I feeling miserable? I'd been so happy before. I'd had such a great time at the football game, and then in the car. Then I'd been in that house and punched that high schooler in the nose — that wasn't so great. But I'd had a mostly good day. It's hard to describe my mood after the football game. It was like I was so excited that I was giddy. Then Lance was kissing me and I don't know why I let him do that. Then I was at the pizza place and that was a bit exciting and a bit weird. Then I was going into that party which was pretty stupid — especially when I went back the second time on my own. Then, first the quarterback, and then his girlfriend, had pretty much attacked me and not once did I really feel scared. Okay it was scary, but I wasn't frightened. It was almost as if I was a little bit drunk. I hadn't had any, like alcohol drinks, so why would I be drunk? It was almost as if I was just drunk on the excitement of it all. Can you get drunk on excitement? Drunk enough to stop thinking clearly?

And now the excitement was over and I was feeling all sad. I wasn't actually crying, but I sure felt down. I reached out and stroked Cindi's arm — well I stroked my computer screen where the picture of her arm appeared. Cindi looked so happy. I wondered if Cindi had times when she just felt sad for no reason.

I remembered that I'd done a Lino print of Cindi back in art class this morning. I wondered what I'd done with it. Then I figured out that it was in my bag, and that my bag was still in the trunk of Dan's car. I'd forgotten all about it. Well it could stay there until morning.

I wrapped my arms around myself and hugged myself tightly. Last time I'd felt this bad, Dan had hugged me and stroked me and kissed me until I felt better — and the time before, and the time before that. But there could be no Dan this time. Not any more. There was just me — me and Cindi — just me and Cindi and Lucy. I stood up and went over to my closet. There, sitting up on the high shelf was Lucy, my old doll. She was looking a bit tired and old but she sparked so many memories in my heart. I reached her down and hugged her to my chest. I had to leave a lot of my childhood stuff behind in England but I'd made sure Lucy came with me. I went back and sat down in my chair and introduced Lucy to Cindi.

I don't know if it was because she was all faded, or what, but some of Lucy's old magic seemed to have disappeared. She just didn't give me as much comfort as she used to. I hugged her harder but it didn't seem to help. I looked up at Cindi and sighed in despair. Maybe I could just go and look at Dan. If I didn't touch him, then that wouldn't count — would it?

-------

I stood with my jaw wide open. There was someone already in bed with Dan. I was going to rip Tara's hair out. If I couldn't curl up next to Dan, then no way was I going to let her get away with it. Then my brain sort of whacked me across the ear. Don't be so stupid, Bec. Don't forget Pearl! It was most likely Pearl — but how to know for sure?

I went back to the hallway and put the hallway light on. Back in Dan's room with the door only half open, light spilled in but didn't really light up the room. There on the floor was a scattering of clothes. I recognized the jacket Pearl had been wearing. I sighed quietly to myself. It kind of surprised me that Pearl had gone to bed with Dan after their first date — I suppose it was their second date if you counted lunch. According to Mom, it was supposed to be a rule that you don't have sex with a guy after the first date. Most of Dan's girls seemed to ignore that rule. I had thought Pearl was a bit different but apparently she wasn't that different. At least she was a girl that I approved of.

I crept up to where I could just make out her face tucked into the side of Dan's chest. She looked so relaxed. She was obviously deeply asleep. I wasn't worried about her being cold; sleeping next to Dan was like sleeping with an oversized hot-water bottle. I was still holding Lucy, so I held her up and gave her a good look at Pearl. Then I whispered in Lucy's ear that I wanted her to meet Pearl because she was Dan's latest girl and if I had my way, Pearl would be around for quite a while. Of course, Pearl being in the bed with Dan made it completely impossible for me to slide in and cuddle up to Dan. Not that I was going to — after all, I promised myself that I wouldn't. But even still, now there was absolutely no chance of doing that. Pearl would probably find it a bit freaky to wake up in the morning and find me lying in there with them. Especially since I could see proof that neither of them were wearing anything — absolutely ALL of their clothes were strewn around on the floor. Pearl struck me as the sort who would look after her clothes better than that, but I'd read enough romance stories to know that sometimes clothes ended up strewn on the floor — it was a part of the whole sex thing. It was how you were supposed to work out they were having sex without the book actually saying it. Maybe they weren't allowed to say it in those types of books.

Pearl's jacket was going to end up all crinkled and creased if it stayed where it had fallen. I went back to my room and found a coat hanger. The jacket was soon hanging nicely from the knob on the door of Dan's closet. I picked up and folded her jeans and sat them on the shelf just under where her top was hanging. A t-shirt and bra went on top of that to make a neat pile. I was about to put her panties onto the pile when I figured she might not appreciate having to re-wear panties. I certainly wouldn't if it was me. She was about my size, so I went back to my bedroom and found a clean, newish pair for her that I added to her little pile of clothes. Then I went to the bathroom and rinsed out her panties in the basin and hung them up to dry. Maybe they'd be dry by morning. Back in Dan's room I tidied up Dan's fallen clothes too, then left and quietly pulled the door closed behind me.

Lucy hugged herself under one arm as I flipped off the hallway light and wandered back through the house.

-------

The dim light spilling into The Parents' room didn't reveal the expected two lumps separated by an acre of empty bed. Instead there was one extra big lump in the middle. I stood in the darkness at the foot of their bed and tilted my head to the side. This was unexpected — in a nice sort of way. They were lying there fast asleep, all cuddled together. I was relieved to see that. My last few midnight visits had almost convinced me they didn't do that anymore. It was kind of sweet that my parents still liked to cuddle up to each other sometimes. It was kind of reassuring that my father, who found it hard to show us any affection, could at least cuddle with my mother at night — even if he didn't do it every night.

As quietly as I could, I backed off into the darkness in the corner of the room. In the corner sat a wooden chest with a cushion on top, turning it into a seat. I lowered myself onto the chest and curled my legs up underneath. I hugged Lucy and watched my parents sleep with a gentle smile on my face.

The gentle harmony of their relaxed breathing rose and fell in a soft duet. Then one set of breathing faltered and changed, there was the smallest stirring under the blankets as an arm shifted. One of them was awake. Was it Mom or Dad? I couldn't tell.

There was stillness for a moment, then small repeated movements under the blanket as if hair was being stroked - or maybe an arm. The other person's breathing changed — now they were both awake. I could hear soft kisses, then a murmur, then quiet almost unspoken words, then — of all things — a soft giggle. More stroking, more murmurs, more unheard words. Then there was a slow and careful rearrangement under the blankets. Then it was happening. I silently let out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding. In the stillness of the night, with me as a silent unknown witness, my parents were making love.

There wasn't much to see — just a gently moving mound of blankets dimly lit by streetlights shining through the curtain. There wasn't much to hear — just soft kisses and murmurs, a few soft laughs and a new harmony of breathing. I'd seen enough earlier at that other house with Laura and the quarterback to know physically what was happening. But that had been — what's that word they use on the nature channel to talk about animals having sex? Rutting! That had been like animals rutting. This was different — it was gentle, soft, caring, loving.

I'd heard all the talk at school, seen all the teen TV programs. Seeing your parents having sex is supposed to be ... frightening, horrifying, sickening, disgusting, gross, whatever. It's like a rule. Teenagers are supposed to say that stuff. But for me, it wasn't like that. I sat there in the darkness and watched my parents make love to each other under the blankets and I was ... in awe. It was so beautiful, so perfect, so ... right! I could feel a tear slide slowly down my cheek. I clutched onto the solid strength of Nana's locket. I hugged Lucy to my chest and I tried to remember to breathe.

The thing I noticed the most was that while I was having this magical, mystical, awe-filled moment watching my parents making love, they were obviously ... having fun! I'd hear little whispered comments followed by giggles and a whispered response that created its own little laughs. There were also delighted little gasps and happy quiet moans and satisfied soft sighs. And every so often they'd be these tiny laughs and the slow rhythm would falter and they would rearrange or something under the blankets and then start again.

It occurred to me that almost exactly thirteen years and nine months ago they had done exactly what they were doing now and created me. Wow! What an incredible thought! I set that thought up like a statue in the middle of my brain and sprayed it with golden sparkles. That was a wonderful thought to have and I wanted my brain to keep it there for always.

I curled up into a tiny ball on the top of the chest and allowed the gentle, delightful sounds of my parents' lovemaking to float me away into dreamland — dreams where a little egg with several sets of tiny legs was chased and caught by a flying tadpole with a tiny cartoon face. Then a little me opened a hatch, crawled out of the egg and nestled warm and safe inside a cavern-like womb.

-------

I woke suddenly. Maybe something woke me — I'm not sure. I was curled up tight on the chest in the corner of my parents' room. I had to stop myself from groaning as my body complained to me about being treated that way. My back was stiff and I had pins and needles all down my left side. My left boob was sore where Lucy's arm had been poking into it while I slept. Well, my boob was sorer — my chest had been either sensitive or sore or itchy ALL WEEK and I was getting a bit tired of that. Wearing a bra seemed to make it a bit better — especially the stretchy sports-style bra I'd worn yesterday. Hmmm. Maybe I should wear that sort more instead of the proper little training bras that I had been wearing.

I had no idea how long I had been asleep but it was still mostly dark in the room so that meant it was still really early. Glancing over at the bed, I could make out a still double-lump — except now it was way over on the right side of the bed. Hmmm. I'm sure that meant something but I wasn't sure what.

I figured it would probably be embarrassing if they woke up and saw me in the room — especially after what they had been doing earlier. I carefully slid my feet down to the floor and stood up. I tried to glide silently across the floor but it was more of a limp than a glide because my back was complaining and my left leg didn't want to work properly because of the pins and needles. Finally I slid out through the door and eased it closed behind me. Free of the danger of waking The Parents, I allowed myself to yawn and stretch and shake some life back into my left arm, which was even more dead than my leg.

I stood in the middle of my room and yawned and stretched again. My clock told me it was 5:09 am. It was weird, I'd only slept for a couple of hours, maybe less — it was more of a nap than a proper sleep. But I didn't feel at all tired now. Hmmm! I knew what I wanted to do. I picked up my old sketch pad and a couple of pencils and made my way into the living room. The house was still quiet and dark but it felt safe. I pushed the curtains open so that the lights from the street spilled into the room. Then I trailed my hand along the painted wall until I felt the wooden corner of the frame of Mom's painting.

This was the painting of Tara and me holding Angie, with Mom standing over us that Mom had painted just after Angie was born. She was so tiny in our hands — so fragile, so beautiful. I ran my fingers along the wood of the frame. I could see it perfectly well but it was still important to feel it. The decorations on the frame made my fingers jump and dance as I dragged them along the wood. I turned and put my back against the wall, directly underneath the painting. The top of my head bumped against the frame and I realized that slowly but surely I was getting taller — I didn't used to hit my head on the frame when I did this. There was a day coming when I wouldn't fit underneath the painting anymore. I wondered what I would do then.

I slid down the wall and sat cross-legged on the floor, dropping the sketch pad in my lap and the pencils on the floor beside me. I hugged Lucy to me and looked across the room. There, on the opposite wall was Mom's painting of Dan in his high school football uniform. Dad stood behind him holding Dan's helmet. The two of them gazed out of the painting and across the room to where their little Bec sat leaning against the wall.

Sitting there with both Dad and Dan watching over me and with Mom, Tara, Painted Me and Baby Angie looking over my shoulder, I immediately felt completely safe and protected and loved. Stupid Bec! I should have come here first instead of sitting in my room feeling miserable all those hours ago. Mind you, if I'd done that I probably would have stayed here all night and missed out on ... hmmm.

I picked up a pencil and flipped my sketchbook to a blank page — I had to go through to nearly the back as this book was nearly full.

I adjusted Lucy under my arm so she could see what I was doing and I started to draw.

-------

Drawing...

Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I looked up to see Pearl walking quietly through the living room towards the front door. She was fully dressed but her shoes dangled from one hand. The room was filled with early morning light but I had no idea what time it was.

"Don't go!"

She squeaked and spun around. I guess she hadn't realised I was there.

"You don't have to go! Stay for breakfast."

Her eyes got all wide. "I couldn't ... your parents..." She was flapping her arms around in an attempt to express herself. I was a bit afraid one of her shoes would go flying out of her hands and smash something.

"You aren't the first girl to stay the night." I tried to use my calm voice to settle her down. Also it was really, really early in the morning. It just doesn't feel natural to talk loudly at the time of the day.

"My parents kind of expect it. When Dan started having ... girlfriends, they told him to bring them home instead of being all uncomfortable in the back of a car or something."

Pearl was not looking very convinced so I changed tactic.

"What were you going to do, anyway? Walk home? You don't have a car here."

She held up her other hand and opened it to show a compact mobile phone. "Taxi! I was going to call for one, once I had gotten outside."

" ... and then you were going to sit out there in the cold for half an hour or more while you waited for it to turn up. Was that the plan?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose." She sounded a bit sheepish when she said that.

"Why don't you stay and have breakfast then you can call a taxi and wait in the warm until it turns up."

"I'm still a bit worried about your parents. What will they think when they see I stayed the night?"

"They really won't mind. They'd much rather meet you and have you stay for breakfast than have you sneak out of the house at dawn. They don't like sneaking around very much."

"Okay then." She held up her arms. "I surrender. I'll stay."

I smiled up at her and she smiled back at me, then her eyes narrowed as she looked down at me.

"Were you sitting there waiting for me?"

"Not really. I couldn't sleep, so I came in here to draw."

"I presume I have you to thank for the maid service?"

I blushed a bit. "Sorry about that. I couldn't sleep so I went in to see if Dan was awake." Okay, that was a bit of a lie, but if Dan had been awake I would have loved to sit and talk to him — and maybe it made me sound a bit less creepy.

"I didn't realize you would be there until I saw you. I rinsed out your panties. They're hanging up in the bathroom. They might even be dry by now."

Pearl came over and sat down on the floor beside me. "I didn't realize I would be in Dan's bed until I was there either. I hope you don't think I'm a bad person for jumping into bed with Dan so quickly."

I shrugged. "I was a bit surprised but not really. It doesn't make you a bad person."

"I just thought about all the girls I'm competing with and I suppose I panicked. I'm still not sure if I did the right thing. Everyone says you shouldn't do that, but all those other girls Dan has dated, they probably all ... I was worried that if I didn't then..." Her sentence sort of disappeared in confusion.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you were right. I love my brother, but he can be a bit of an idiot."

I grinned at her. "So is it true about Dan? Is it true that he is really good in bed?"

She blushed and looked away. "I ... um ... ah..." The blush with her color skin made a really interesting color.

"It's okay." I nudged her with my elbow. "I'm just teasing you. I'm just asking you what you asked me at the basketball."

She blushed again. "That was before I knew you were his sister. I wouldn't have said that if..."

"I know!" I interrupted her. "Don't worry about it."

"So what have you been drawing?" asked Pearl in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

I didn't mind — I was ready to change the subject too.

"It's not finished. The middle bit is done but I'm still working on the rest."

Sometimes I feel a bit funny about letting people see a drawing before it's finished, but for some reason I didn't mind Pearl seeing this. I propped the pad up on my lap and we looked at it together.

I had drawn my parents together in the middle of the page. I'd spent a lot of time on their faces as they gazed at each other with undisguised love. Dad stood planted firmly in the center with his arms wrapped around Mom. For the first time in my life, I hadn't drawn Mom as a strong imposing figure. Instead I'd drawn her with soft and loving lines. In fact she was drawn so softly that below her shoulders she was insubstantial. She was wearing a long draped piece of material that flowed down from her shoulders and then was wrapped tightly around Dad by a swirling wind. It might be better to say that the heads and shoulders of both Mom and Dad emerged from that swirling cloth. It all made sure that the central focus of the picture was their faces and the loving way they looked at each other.

I'd sketched in very lightly the swirling wind that surrounded them. Into that swirling wind I'd put Angie, flying around them with softly-feathered wings. Then there was Dan running and laughing with a ball under one arm. I'd had to make Dan a lot smaller than he should have been, compared to Angie, to make him fit the scene. It made him look younger, more childlike. I had emphasised that and made him younger still.

As Pearl watched, I went back to my drawing. I had to put in Tara and myself to complete the picture. The four of us flowed around the circle — all of us a little bit wispy and undefined, half-wind, half-child, circling our parents with happy laughing faces, leaping and running joyfully as we swept around with the wind — or perhaps causing the wind with our circling. I put Tara's hair and mine into pigtails tied off with ribbons — pigtails flying in the wind made us look younger as well. The four of us as free-spirited, ageless children playing some crazy game of ring-around-the-roses with our parents like a human maypole in the middle.

Pearl sat and watched in silence in the stillness and quiet of early morning. She had an arm around my shoulders — I never noticed her putting it there — and her hair brushed my shoulder as she watched me draw.

I love to draw. I love the sound of the pencil scratching on the page. I love the textures you can get with different amounts of pressure. I love the way you can scribble and scribble and slowly but surely pull a picture out of the mess of lines. You can lose yourself in a good drawing. You can let the world drift away as the picture pours out of you. I love drawing. So I was drawing.

I made a last few strokes to make my clothes flow in the wind better and I was finished. I put the pencil down and adjusted the pad so I could look at it properly. It was a good drawing. I was really pleased with the way it looked. I was happy with the art of it. It showed what I wanted it to. It had emotion so Mom would be happy — it had lots of emotion. In fact it had so much emotion that it was a bit cheesy — a bit schmaltzy. But I didn't care about that. Maybe schmaltzy was the right amount of emotion for it to have. I used a finger-tip to smudge and soften a line on Tara's arm that was just a bit too harsh. I picked up my pencil again and added a couple more feathers to Angie's wings and put the pencil down again. Now I was finished.

I turned my head to Pearl and smiled at her, handing her the pad.

"Now it's finished. This is my family."

She shook her head in some sort of silent disbelief.

"I'm amazed how well you draw them without having them posing in front of you."

I shrugged. "I just know what they look like."

"Could you draw someone that way if you don't know them very well?"

"Maybe! I think so. It depends. Who do you want me to draw?"

"What about Danielle and Faith? You only met them on Thursday night at the basketball game. Then you saw them for ten minutes at the start of the football game last night. Do you think you could draw them?"

I closed my eyes and pictured them sitting on the bleachers at the football.

"I think so."

Pearl was shaking her head and went back to looking at my picture.

"You made Dan look so cute. He's like a little boy. How did you do that? I bet you don't remember him when he was that age."

I shrugged again. "I've seen pictures." I wasn't happy with that answer. I hadn't really been thinking of old photos of him when I drew the picture. "I know who Dan is. I just started by drawing Dan from the inside and then I made his outside younger." I stopped talking. I figured what I'd said had probably sounded stupid, but it was the best I could explain it.

"Wait here a moment."

I took the pad from her and went into the kitchen. I found one of Mom's sharp razor blades that she keep in a tin on a high shelf and carefully cut the page with my latest picture out of the sketch pad. Returning the blade to its tin, I went back to the living room and sat back down on the floor next to Pearl.

I sat looking at my picture and was filled with happiness about my family. Then I remembered that they probably wouldn't be so warm and loving today. Mom and Dad would be getting stuck into Tara for going to that party, and Tara would be grouchy because she would know they were right but would hate admitting it. Maybe having Pearl at breakfast would make Mom and Dad go a bit easier. Maybe it wouldn't.

Today should be such a happy day for me. I hated that there would be all this tension going on.

A part of me wanted to hide deep, deep down inside of myself and let the day happen without me.

The serene quiet of the house was broken by the rapid thumping of Angie running down the hallway towards us. Hearing that sound was like hearing the band playing in the distance as you waited for the parade. You heard the music and you knew the parade would soon be surrounding you with all the excitement and the color and the movement and the sound. The rapid drumbeat of Angie running down the hall was the music that signaled the start of the day in this house. Soon the parade which was my family would be swirling around me and naturally I would get swept up in it. How could I not? This was my family and I belonged right in the middle of it.

But if that was true...

Why did I sometimes feel like such an alien?

Why did the way my brain works mystify people — normal people like Liz and Pearl?

Why did I sometimes feel like I was watching my family live their life as if they were inside a museum exhibit and I was outside with my nose pressed against the glass?

And if that was me watching from the outside, then who was the little child dancing around her parents with her pigtails flying in the wind and a tattered old doll tucked under her arm?

Who was that girl, now sitting on the floor of the living room in her pyjamas and robe, with her unbound hair falling freely down her back? Who was she? And how could she fit in so easily when it was such a struggle for me?

Who was that girl who'd stormed so fearlessly into that party and calmly punched an eighteen year old in the nose? That couldn't possibly be me.

I watched, fascinated, as the young teen heard a distant drumming and looked up with a smile on her face. She seemed ready — even eager — to face the day.

And me?

I guess I was along for the ride!



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Chapter 29: Saturday Breakfast

Rebecca Louise Freeman, age 12 years and 364 days, wearing long flannel pyjamas and a dressing gown, sat on the floor of her living room. Her long brown hair was unbound and hanging freely down her back.

I live inside her head. Sometimes it seems to me that all I can do is watch helplessly while she lives her life. It's a bit like I'm a passenger on the runaway train that is Rebecca. Then there are the times when I remember that she is me.

I looked out at the room through Rebecca's eyes. I listened through her ears as she heard a distant drumming sound. It was the sound of two little feet, attached to the ends of two little legs, pounding down the hallway. Rebecca — I mean I — sat up straighter and a warm smile spread across her face — I mean my face.

A little bundle of energy called Angie burst into the living room and headed towards the TV — obviously hoping to turn it on and watch some cartoons before anyone told her not to. She saw us and skidded to a halt.

Angie's hair hovered around her head in a halo of static and tangled curls. She wore a long t-shirt nightie with a picture of dancing elephants in frilly pink tutus on the front. She was also wearing a pair of bright purple shoes with fluorescent pink trim and Velcro fasteners.

"Pearl, this is our little Angel."

"Angie, this is Pearl. She's a friend of Dan's who came to visit and have breakfast with us."

"Oh!" said Angie and looked at Pearl doubtfully.

"Hi Angie! I love your shoes. They're very pretty."

"I put them on all by myself," said Angie with obvious pride.

I held out my arms and invited Angie to sit on my lap. She did so, sitting sideways so she could watch Pearl. Angie noticed my picture which Pearl had rescued from my lap and was now holding. I wrapped my arms loosely around my little sister and hugged her.

"That's me!" A little finger pointed at her part of my picture. "But I don't have wings."

"Yes you do, they're just hidden inside of you where nobody can see them. Only a few special people know they're there."

"Where inside me?"

"Right here," and I ran my fingernails lightly up and down her back, which produced a few giggles and a bit of wriggling. I was going to say some more, but Angie had already lost interest in the picture.

I decided to do something a little bit of my brain had been thinking about all night. I hadn't been sure I was going to do it until this instant.

"There's someone else I want you to meet. Her name is Lucy." I held Lucy in front of Angie with one hand. "She's been a very special friend to me for a very long time."

Angie had already met Lucy once before when I'd given her Lucy to play with, but I didn't expect her to remember.

"Lucy is feeling sad because her old dress is all faded and she doesn't have any other clothes to wear. Do you think you could find her a new dress to wear? Then maybe you would like to look after her for a little while. I think she would like that."

Angie carefully took Lucy from me. Her fingers brushed lightly over Lucy's face.

"She's pretty."

"Yes she is. Very pretty. And look, she's already much happier because she's got a new little girl to look after her."

Angie smiled and hugged Lucy to her. I hugged Angie and gave her a little kiss on the cheek.

"Do you think Pearl and I could come with you to your bedroom? We'd both love to help you find a new dress for Lucy."

"Ooh, yes. I'd love to help," said Pearl with a big smile.

We all stood up and walked towards Angie's room.

Mom was in the hallway heading towards her bedroom, carrying two big plastic garbage bags full of stuff. Dan was behind her with another two full bags. We did all the greetings. I was surprised to see Dan there as I thought he was still fast asleep.

When I asked Dan about it, he shrugged.

"I wish I were. After that phone call I made to Dad last night, Mom came and woke me up this morning so I could give them the full story."

"You didn't say good morning to me."

"I looked in on you before, but you were drawing and Pearl let me know she was happy to stay with you, so I didn't disturb you."

Mom invited Pearl to stay for breakfast so Pearl explained that I had already invited her and she was happy to accept. We explained to Mom about Lucy and finding her a new dress. Mom asked me to get Angie dressed while I was at it. Dan apologized to Pearl and explained that he had to finish helping Mom with something. He held up the bags as if to demonstrate but he didn't say what they were doing. Pearl said that was okay and she was having fun helping Angie and me.

Mom looked at me with that little half-smile on her face and told me that she wanted to talk to me later. That half-smile was bad news. I was in trouble for something, but I wasn't sure what. Then she walked off with her two big bags full of stuff followed by Dan with his two bags. That was a lot of stuff in bags, but I had no idea what it was.

We had to detour to the bathroom so that Angie could use the potty. Pearl sat on the edge of the tub and sat Lucy on her knee while I helped Angie. She was wearing pull-ups for the night and when I checked, they were only a tiny bit damp. I dropped them into the bucket that sat there for the used ones and helped Angie onto the toilet. Pearl's panties that I had rinsed out and hung up in the bathroom were dry so she stayed in the bathroom to change when Angie and I were finished. I told Pearl to just drop the ones of mine that she was wearing into the laundry hamper.

In Angie's room, I asked her what she wanted to wear for the day.

"Shoes!"

"Well, shoes are a good start, but I think you should wear something else as well."

"Uh, ah! Shoes!" Angie then wriggled out of her nightie, scrunched it up under her pillow and plopped herself down on the bed — naked but for her bright purple shoes.

"All done!"

I hunted in her sock draw and found some nice pink socks.

"How about some pretty pink socks to go with your shoes?"

Angie eyed me suspiciously as if suspecting a trick.

"We have to take your shoes off anyway, because this shoe is supposed to be on that foot." I was tapping her feet with my hand as I spoke to emphasize the idea that she needed to swap her shoes over. No wonder she'd sounded so noisy running up the hallway before. Her shoes were on the wrong feet.

Angie looked like she wanted to argue but eventually let me slip her shoes off and slide the socks onto her feet. She immediately jumped off the bed and put her shoes back on — checking with me that she had them the right way around.

Pearl joined us in Angie's room just as I was laying out a selection of four different pairs of panties. Angie was refusing to choose.

"Come on Angie, which ones do you want to wear? If you don't choose, I'll put all four of them onto you, that would be weird wouldn't it?"

Okay! That was a stupid thing to say. Angie decided she wanted to do that. So with a little help from me, she pulled all four pairs of panties on, one after the other. I managed it a bit so that the top ones were a purple pair that more-or-less matched the shoes. Angie giggled and went to admire herself in the mirror. It looked a bit like she was wearing panties over a diaper. I looked at Pearl and shrugged. She answered with a wry grin. Oh, well! At least Angie was a bit more dressed than she had been, even if it was unusual.

I found a pale pink undershirt and sneaking up behind her, slid it down over her head while she was still busy admiring herself in the mirror. She fussed a bit about that but not too much. I was making good progress.

I went to the closet to see what else I could get her to wear. I doubted I was going to get her shoes off again, no matter how briefly, so pants were out. I found two dresses that matched the shoes. One was a full length cream-colored dress covered with little pink and purple flowers. The other was a lilac-colored jumper dress with a bib front that would need a shirt underneath it.

I held up both for Angie to see and asked her which one she wanted to wear. She looked back and forth between the two with a serious expression on her face. Finally she announced "Both!" with that definite tone of voice that meant no argument would be allowed.

I shrugged. It might look a bit odd, but Mom had asked me to dress her and this was getting her dressed so I wasn't about to complain. I helped Angie into the full length flowery dress first and did up the buttons for her. Then she wriggled into the jumper dress and I did up the straps that held the bib in place. It actually worked. The jumper dress looked like an apron over the top of the other one. All the colors matched nicely too.

Pearl clapped her hands. "This little girl has style. The layered look is definitely in."

I fetched the box full of doll's clothes from Angie's closet and put it on the bed.

"Now! How about you and Pearl look for a dress for Lucy, while I brush your hair?"

The next little while was a very pleasant time. Angie and Pearl had a lot of fun picking out possible dresses for Lucy. Pearl had to help with the little fasteners and seemed to be having as much fun as Angie. I just stood behind Angie and listened to the chatter with a smile on my face, while I brushed her hair.

Brushing hair is such a calming thing to do. Once you've gotten started and got rid of all the tangles, then it's just a matter of setting up a rhythm and keep going. You're supposed to do a hundred brush strokes, but I don't count anymore. I just keep going until it's time to stop. One time I brushed Liz's hair for her like that and when I stopped, she said "Exactly one hundred strokes. I was counting to see if you did it right!" That was a surprise, I hadn't been counting. I just brushed until it was time to stop.

Pearl and Angie had picked out a nice pale-green dress for Lucy, with little bits of lace around the neck and arms. She looked so pretty like that, with her new dress on. I watched Angie play with her and hug her and felt a twinge of sadness. Lucy wasn't mine anymore. I was going to be a teenager, and teenagers are too old for dolls. I felt a bit good though, because Angie was clearly already in love with her and she would look after Lucy much better than I had been. It was nice to do something that made Angie happy. Maybe Angie would ask me to play with her and her dolls sometimes. That would be okay. Teenagers are allowed to play with their little sisters sometimes, aren't they?

The three of us headed back to the living room. Dan was sitting on the couch reading the sports pages of the newspaper. He looked up and smiled broadly when we came into the room. Angie ran across the room and jumped — landing on his lap for a hug. After a friendly little hug, she swivelled on his lap and used the remote to turn the TV on. Then she started telling Pearl all about the cartoon that was playing. Pearl sat on the couch next to Dan and cuddled up to him while she listened carefully to Angie's description.

I'd trailed after them into the living room, lost in my own little world. I sat down on the floor beside the coffee table. We had left my picture on it when we went to look after Angie. I picked it up and looked at it carefully, wondering if there was anything more I needed to do to it. Wondering what had happened to that little girl in the picture with the pigtails flying in the wind and the little doll tucked under her arm. That little girl wasn't me any more.

Mom poked her head into the living room and saw me sitting on my own, while Dan and Pearl entertained Angie.

"Rebecca Louise, come into the kitchen and sit with me."

I gulped and followed Mom into the kitchen, my picture trailing from one hand.

Mom sat herself down in her usual chair and I took the Chair of Doom — which was my normal chair around the corner of the table from her — but right then, it felt like the Chair of Doom.

"What's that honey?"

"Just a picture I drew this morning. I woke up early and felt like drawing."

"I'll take a look at it later and we'll talk about it then. Okay?"

She gestured to me to pass the picture to her. I did so and she hardly glanced at it before positioning it on the table in front of her. She stared straight at me and I felt like I was trapped in her unforgiving gaze.

"Your father and I were very disappointed to hear that..." Her voice trailed off because she'd looked down at the picture in front of her.

"You drew this, honey?" I nodded.

"It looks lovely! I'll look at it properly later. Now where was I? Oh, yes!" The gaze came back. "Your father and I are sure you didn't mean to..." She looked down again.

"Oh!" she breathed. Now she was looking at the picture carefully, taking in all the details.

"Oh, honey," she whispered. "This is so beautiful!"

She sat looking down at the picture. I didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say, so I just sat and watched her. After a moment, she seemed to remember what she was doing and took a deep breath. She looked up at me, the iron lady once more in control.

"We're sure you didn't mean to..."

I sat there and watched in amazement as tears trickled silently down her cheeks and dissolved her iron face. She looked down at the picture, then up at me. Her face had an expression on it that I don't think I'd seen before. It was soft and raw and ... I don't know how to describe it. Maybe one day I'll draw it and get someone to tell me what they see.

"Is this really what you see?" Her voice was quiet, almost pleading.

I nodded again, blinking back my own tears. I don't know why I felt like crying. It was, as if seeing Mom cry meant that I had to cry with her.

There was the sudden scrape of a pushed-back chair. A quick rush around the table, and I was wrapped up and squeezed tightly in a motherly hug. Or maybe it wasn't so motherly — usually motherly hugs involve her trying to sooth me because I'm upset, or her telling me that she loved me, or ... so, maybe it was a motherly hug.

Breathing was starting to become a real concern for me. I was released as suddenly as I'd been grabbed. Mom stepped back and picked the picture up from the table. She held it before her like it was some long-lost masterpiece by one of those famous European painters.

"Peter would like to see this. Can I show it to him, honey?"

I nodded, not really trusting myself to speak. Seeing Mom so moved had touched off some strange, unknown emotions deep inside me.

Mom headed for the door, then stopped and turned back to face me, her cheeks still glistening with tears.

"Just don't do it again, okay honey?" and she was gone.

I sat in my place and blinked in confusion as I tried to work out what had just happened. I knew I was in trouble but I wasn't sure what for. It left me feeling guilty without actually knowing what I'd done wrong.

Okay, I knew I'd done things wrong. My mind immediately started making a list. Top of my list was punching that quarterback on the nose — I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have made out with Lance on the bus. I shouldn't have gone back into that house at the party. I shouldn't have kept quiet about Tara going to that party in the first place. I shouldn't have stayed in the dressing room and peeked at the boys getting changed. I shouldn't have run around all evening without any underwear. I shouldn't have hit Dan the way I did. I shouldn't have snuck into Dan's bedroom in the middle of the night. I definitely shouldn't have hid in my parents' room last night and watched them ... The list of things I shouldn't have done was way too long.

I wondered which of them had disappointed Mom and Dad when they found out about it. I wondered which of them I had just promised not to do again. I sighed quietly to myself. Sometimes being Bec Freeman is just too confusing for words.

-------

I dropped into an armchair with a big sigh. Dan looked over at me and nodded. Pearl looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Just Mom being weird."

Pearl didn't know Mom well enough to understand what that could mean. Dan thought he understood, but I think he was assuming I'd just sat through one of Mom's lectures. I wouldn't mind betting he knew it was going to happen too. Maybe I should ask him what it was I'd done wrong. I looked at him sitting there with Pearl cuddled up next to him and Angie curled up on his lap and decided I would wait until later.

"Did she like your picture?" Pearl wanted to know.

"Yes! I think so. But that only made her weirder."

"Do you mean the picture you were drawing this morning?" asked Dan. "I'd love to see it."

I shrugged. "Mom has it. She's showing it to Dad."

I sighed quietly to myself. "I'm going to get dressed. Breakfast will probably be about half an hour or so."

I picked out some clothes to wear — just some loose jeans, a t-shirt and a loose jersey — and I locked myself in the bathroom for a quick shower.

-------

I was sitting at my dresser, brushing my hair, when there was a knock on my door. It was Dad. He stood in the doorway and looked at me.

"I love your picture, Bec. It's really sweet."

"Thanks Dad." I smiled at him and looked down at my brush.

"It really touched your mother too. It's a very special drawing."

I looked up to thank him again, but he was gone.

"Thanks Dad," I whispered to the empty door.

-------

Angie was on her own in the living room, glued to the TV where animated shapes leapt around and sang silly songs. Dan and Pearl had disappeared. I guess they must have gone back to Dan's room.

In the kitchen, I saw that Mom had taken out some ready-to-cook sausages and we had a stock of eggs. I felt inspired to bake some bran muffins. Checking the time, it would only delay breakfast by a few minutes if I started straight away.

Tara and I often make bran muffins on Saturday morning — especially in the colder months. They're quick and fun to make and they taste really good, especially if you throw in some cinnamon and a dash of vanilla essence. (I just looked at the bottle and remembered that it's called vanilla extract over here — Mom taught me to cook and she always calls it vanilla essence). It didn't take too long to get the mixture together and grease up the muffin tray. Mom arrived in the kitchen just as I was sliding the raw muffins into the oven. I set the timer for 20 minutes and started cleaning up my mess and setting the table.

In the meantime, Mom was getting the sausages under the griller and getting the eggs all broken open and beaten ready to scramble. Mom wasn't very talkative. I figured that wasn't a good sign for a nice relaxed breakfast. She was winding herself up to rip into Tara for going to that party. I only hoped she didn't go over the top and embarrass us in front of Pearl.

When it was time, I started toasting slices of bread and Mom got the scrambled eggs going. Then she left me in charge of the cooking while she went in to wake up Tara. By now the smell of grilled sausages and baking muffins had summoned Dad into the kitchen. It's like a magic spell. You cook something like muffins and the family magically appears. Some of them show up faster than others. It wasn't until I took the tray of muffins out of the oven and set them to cool that Dan and Pearl appeared. Mom came back into the kitchen and stirred the eggs a couple of times.

Tara came into the kitchen, looking half-asleep, with a blanket wrapped around her.

"Where's my clothes?"

"All the clothes you need are in your closet," said Mom, with a no-nonsense no-arguments sort of voice. "Go and get dressed for breakfast. We're all sitting here waiting for you."

Tara blinked a couple of times, then turned and trailed back out of the kitchen,

"Go with her, Bec, and help her get sorted. She's obviously still half asleep." Mom was talking to me with that light, casual tone that suggested that if I didn't do exactly what she said, I'd be eating nothing but bread and water for a week.

Naturally, I went after Tara. No arguments from me.

In Tara's room, I helpfully went to her closet and opened it only to discover that it was completely empty. Well, almost completely empty. There was a single hanger, from which dangled the very brief skirt and top Tara had been wearing last night. I opened up all of the drawers, one after another to find them all totally empty except for a single pair of skimpy panties. They weren't like a g-string or anything — but they were fairly brief.

I held up the panties, skirt and top for Tara. "I think Mom is trying to suggest that you wear these."

At least now I knew what had been in those big garbage bags Mom and Dan had been carrying around the house earlier.

She looked at the outfit with a mixture of horror and worry. "I can't go to breakfast wearing that stuff!"

I shrugged. "I don't think you have much choice. Mom won't let you have breakfast wearing a blanket, and Dad won't let you have breakfast in your nightie."

I pulled the blanket off her and discovered she was naked underneath the blanket. "What happened to your nightie?"

"I don't know! I figured I must have gone to sleep naked." Tara still wasn't properly awake.

"You didn't! I helped you into a nightie last night. Mom must have stripped it off you at the same time she emptied out your closet. It amazes me what you will sleep through. Well, I guess you really have no choice now. Come on, step into these."

I helped her step into the panties and let her pull them up while I lined up the skirt.

"Can't I borrow something from you? A long skirt? Sweatpants? Anything?"

"Like that's going to happen. Mom's obviously decided you're wearing this. If I lend you anything, I'd probably end up with no clothes too. Now step into the skirt."

We quickly had the skirt positioned and stretched out to be as long as it could — which wasn't very long — it's a VERY short skirt. Tara was just tugging the top into place when Mom appeared at the door.

"What's taking you two so long? Everyone is waiting and the food is getting cold. Bec, get back into the kitchen. Come on, Tara! MOVE IT!!"

I scampered out of the room. As I did, I heard Tara complaining to Mom.

"Do I have to wear this?"

"What's wrong with it? Apparently it was okay to wear to a party — why wouldn't it be suitable to wear to breakfast?"

I don't think Tara made any reply to that. I mean, what could you say?

For once Mom hadn't been exaggerating. Everyone else was sitting around the table, waiting for us. I slid into my seat and took a moment to notice that Angie had brought in her little dolls highchair and sat Lucy in it. The other side of the table was quite crowded with Angie, Lucy, Pearl and Dan.

My side of the table would be just Tara and me. That was unfortunate because I would be right in the firing line between Mom and Tara. My chances of getting through breakfast without getting slammed were virtually zero. I was going to be ... what's that word they use on TV when the talk about people getting hurt during a war? Is it cholera damage or something? (I just looked it up — it's collateral damage. I was going to be collateral damage!) I wondered if maybe I could squeeze myself over onto the other side of the table next to Angie and Lucy. Perhaps not!

Mom pushed Tara into the room and sat down in her usual chair. Tara stood for a moment — uncertain and embarrassed. She had one arm across her chest and the other across her stomach in a futile attempt to cover up at least some of her bare skin. Dad scowled at Tara as she slunk her way around the table and into her seat next to me.

"Can someone tell me why my eldest daughter is coming to breakfast dressed like a ... a ... dressed like that?"

"It's quite simple, dear," put in Mom with her deadly half-smile pasted onto her face. "Tara has decided that the clothes we allow her to have are far too boring. Apparently she would much rather wear something like this!"

One time in English class, Mrs Stone was explaining sarcasm. I understood the idea immediately. After all, if there was an event in the Olympics for sarcasm, then Mom would win the gold medal.

Mom passed the plates of sausages and egg around. She'd poached an egg for Pearl because Pearl is lactose intolerant and Mom figured she couldn't have scrambled eggs with the milk in it. I had to ask if she could have a bran muffin because it was made with milk but Pearl assured me that she was usually fine with baked things like cakes.

When the plate of muffins came around I took one for myself and popped one onto Tara's plate as well. I was used to dishing up breakfast for Tara because normally she was still mostly asleep at this time of the day. Today she was fully awake, but she had her head down as if she was trying to disappear into a hole in the floor.

I was hoping the little exchange between Mom and Dad when Tara came in was over and we could relax and enjoy our breakfast but apparently Dad wasn't finished.

"Did anyone explain to Tara that her outfit was just downright inappropriate?"

"Don't be silly, dear. I'm sure that if we were to ask her, Tara would tell us to stop living in the last century and that everyone is wearing things like that these days."

My stomach was getting all tight and knotted up. To anyone else, it would have sounded like Mom and Dad were just chatting. All the tension was hidden under the surface. It was like the conversation was a calm lake but under the water was this huge monster with waving tentacles — waiting to drag you down and bite you with its razor-sharp teeth. I hated it!

I sat there trying to do my own version of stony face.

"Really? Everyone? I am surprised. I was at a football game last night amongst a whole lot of people. I'm sure I would have noticed if everyone were dressed like that. Even the cheerleaders were wearing more than she is."

"Peter Henry Freeman," said Mom with a stern look on her face. "What were you doing looking at the cheerleaders? Am I not pretty enough for you anymore?"

Dad spluttered for a moment, then realised that Mom was teasing him. He sat up a bit straighter and spoke with quiet dignity. "It was a game of American Football. You are expected to look at the cheerleaders at such an event. That is why they are there. They lead the cheers. How else would anybody know when they were supposed to cheer?"

"And I suppose it didn't hurt that they are all healthy young women and were wearing very short skirts?" asked Mom with a grin — this time a genuine grin.

"It didn't hurt at all!" They shared a look — one of those looks that people share where they tell each other important stuff just with their eyes.

Fortunately, that was the end of the Mom-and-Dad show for a while. The rest of us had been silent spectators during all of that — which of course is what we were supposed to be. The main target of the conversation had spent the entire time staring down at the table with her hair falling down like a curtain to hide her face.

Mom diverted the conversation to the football game and asked Dan about his touchdown. She then involved Pearl and Dad and me as well as Dan in a discussion of the game. Slowly the tight feeling in my stomach went away. Well it went away enough for me to eat a bit anyway.

Mom asked me questions about the football game and somehow I found my voice so that I could answer her. I had to tell the story of helping the Wide Receiver who'd broken his arm and then the fake touchdown I was involved with during half time. I was a bit relieved that nobody mentioned me giving lucky kisses. I had no doubt that Mom would hear about it — if she hadn't done so already — but I didn't want to talk about it over breakfast.

Nobody spoke to Tara and the only time she was mentioned was one time when Mom said, "I'm sure if we were to ask her, that Tara would say she is sorry she missed such an exciting night. I know I'm sorry I missed it."

Dad asked what everyone was planning on doing for the rest of the day. Dan had to work and he was going to take Pearl back to her apartment first. Mom said she had some shopping to do. I explained that I was going over to Liz's place after lunch and then we were going to the mall to watch the new Pixar animation movie at the multiplex. After that we would get a lift back home with Dan when he finished work.

Mom told us that Tara had volunteered to strip all the beds and wash the sheets. I suspect that was the first time Tara knew anything about that. Mom then told us that once that was done Tara would be doing the vacuuming and then helping Mom tidy up the house ready for the family party tomorrow. Dad had to mow the lawns and wash the living room windows — outside and in. I think he was hoping to finish in time to sit down and watch some sports on TV but I didn't like his chances of getting to do that without interruptions.

I'd noticed that Mom was doing a lot of talking for Tara. I wondered if Mom had told her she wasn't allowed to speak, or if Mom was just being ... well, Mom!

Dan asked me if I had any special plans for the evening. When I said no, he showed me a pamphlet for a fun fair with stalls and rides and fireworks at the end. It was about twenty minutes drive away. He offered to take me and Liz there for the evening, which sounded like a great idea.

"You could invite Pearl to come along and then it would be like a double date with you and Pearl and me and Liz."

Pearl tried to hide a grin when I said that. Dan glared at me, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "That was subtle, Bec — really subtle."

Then he turned to Pearl. "Well it seems that my social secretary would like to book you for another evening. Are you interested?"

"It sounds like fun. Thank you! I'd love to come along. How about I drive over this evening and leave my car here so I can go with you. This fun fair is in the opposite direction from my place so don't talk any nonsense about coming to pick me up."

Dad spoke up at that point. "In that case you should get here early and join us for dinner."

"I don't want you to go to any trouble," Pearl tried to protest, but Dad rode over the top of her. "Nonsense! We were only going to have some Chinese takeout anyway, so it's no trouble at all to get some extra. Can we expect you here by six?"

Pearl nodded her surrender.

During the entire breakfast, Tara hadn't said a word. She'd barely moved and I don't think she looked up once. She hadn't even touched her knife and fork — which tells you how much of her sausages and eggs she ate. She had broken a few crumbs off her muffin and nibbled them, though, if you want to call that eating.

The muffins had turned out quite nicely. Pearl complimented Mom on how good they were, so Mom had to point out that I'd made them. So Pearl said nice things to me about them and how talented I was in all sorts of ways. I blushed a bit, but managed to thank her before looking down.

By that time most people were finished eating so I stood up to clear the table. Dad told me to just stack the plates on the sink and sort it all out later. Mom volunteered Tara to help, so the two of us got the job done quickly. It would have been done even quicker except that Tara kept using one hand to pull the back of her skirt down every time she turned away from the table.

Angie had eaten pretty well but there was a little bit of mess around her that I had to wipe up — and I had to wipe a bit of sauce off her face.

Dad coughed and looked a bit sheepish. "Pearl, I wonder if you might do us a small favor and get Angie to show you her room for a little while. We need to have a little family meeting before Dan goes to work and, er..."

Pearl got the hint and told Angie that she would love to see all her toys and dolls. Angie very happily picked up Lucy and led Pearl out of the room, already babbling happily about the different toys she had.

Mom moved her chair out of the way and sat down in my usual place. She gestured to me to sit where Tara normally sits. That left Tara standing uncomfortably at the end of the table.

There was silence for a moment and I felt my stomach tying itself up in knots. Given that it was full from the cooked breakfast I'd just eaten, that left my stomach feeling very uncomfortable indeed. Tara looked even more uncomfortable than I felt. She had her arms wrapped around her stomach, except she was fidgeting and moving restlessly. Every so often a hand would tug the waistline of her skirt up by an inch, which meant that the hem of the skirt then had to be pulled down by an inch. A few seconds later she was adjusting her top, trying uselessly to get it to cover more of her chest.

Finally Dad broke the silence.

"You look fairly uncomfortable in those clothes." His voice was soft and clear. There was no anger in his voice, not even disappointment.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." His voice was still soft, but there was steel in it for that instruction.

Tara lifted her head up and looked down the table at Dad. She was biting her lip and looked pale, but there was a glint in her eye that told us she hadn't completely surrendered.

"Do you feel uncomfortable, wearing those clothes?"

Tara seemed to take a moment to realise she'd been asked a question. Dad waited silently for a response. We all sat watching Tara. I was practising my stony face. My insides were all churning.

She lifted her shoulders in the tiniest of shrugs and flapped her hands around at the rest of us.

Dad seemed to understand her sign language. "Of course, you would feel uncomfortable in this situation. You've done something wrong and now you have to face the consequences. That would make anyone feel bad. My question is this. Do those clothes make you feel even more ... vulnerable?"

Tara stared back at Dad, sensing the trap he was leading her into. She obviously wanted to defy him but the truthful answer to that question was obvious to everyone — including her.

In the end, she just glanced down at the floor and nodded.

"Say it! Look at me and say it!" That soft but steely voice was back.

She lifted her head just far enough for her to peep at Dad from under her fringe.

"Yes, Daddy!" The voice was soft, but we all heard it.

I looked across the table at Dan. He was looking at Mom with a thoughtful look on his face. So I wasn't the only one who'd noticed that Mom was being unusually quiet. I glanced sideways at her. She was sitting with that half-smile on her face, watching Tara like a hulking great black widow spider, watching its prey as it wanders closer and closer to her.

"So they make you feel vulnerable, yet still you chose to wear them."

Tara looked up at Dad with fire in her eyes. "I didn't choose to wear them today! I wasn't given a choice about that! This was just for the party."

"Party?" Mom finally joined in — her voice bright and cheerful. "What a co-incidence! We're having a party tomorrow. I'm sure that if we were to ask her, Tara would say that she'd love to wear her new party clothes to our little gathering tomorrow."

Tara gasped in shock. Dad looked at her coldly.

"I can just imagine what all of our relatives will say when they see you dressed like that."

"No, please!" begged Tara quietly.

"I'm sure Nana will have some very distinct things to say when she sees what her eldest grand-daughter is choosing to wear." Mom's voice was low and dangerous.

"Please don't make me! Not in front of Nana!" Tara was begging more loudly now — her eyes glistening with tears. Tara and I have never been in any doubt how Mom learnt to be scary. To even threaten to parade Tara, dressed in that outfit, in front of Nana was just ... evil!

"Do you want to wear that outfit tomorrow at Bec's party?" Dad asked the question as if he hadn't heard any of Tara's desperate pleas.

A glimmer of hope appeared in Tara's eyes. She was actually being asked.

"No, Daddy." Tara's voice wobbled slightly.

"Why not?" snapped Mom. "I thought this was your best party outfit."

"It's just as well." Dad's voice had never altered from that soft gentle tone. "I would never allow you to wear that outfit in public, let alone force you to."

"Is our party not good enough for you?" asked Mom.

"And I think in this case, 'in public' includes our collected relatives," continued Dad as if Mom hadn't spoken. "Also, to be honest, I don't think I could cope with the lecture I would get from Nana for allowing you to appear in such an outfit."

Mom huffed and sat back in her chair — apparently allowing Dad to continue his inquisition.

Dad picked up the teapot from its spot in the middle of the table. He leaned over and filled the cup in front of Mom, then topped up his own cup. He put the teapot back on its coaster and sipped from his cup. Tara stood silently staring at the floor.

"So, the people at this party you went to without our permission — look at me young lady!" Dad waited while Tara dutifully lifted her head. "What impression did you expect to make by appearing dressed as you are?"

Tara frowned slightly as if she didn't understand the question. I didn't believe that for a second. Tara might do stupid things sometimes, but no way is she stupid. Maybe she was deliberately not understanding the question as a way to avoid answering it.

"Did you expect them to treat you with dignity and courtesy like a young woman such as yourself deserves?" Dad paused but Tara didn't respond. She didn't look at all happy.

"Did you expect them to think you were a cheap prostitute who would do just about anything if the price was right?" Tara went paler — if that was possible. Dad had delivered that line with exactly the same tone as everything else he'd said.

"Or were you trying to make them think you were some sort of slut who would do just about anything — no payment required?"

"NO! How could you say... ?" Tara started angrily at Dad, but then trailed off.

Maybe she'd just worked out, as I had, that he had carefully not accused her of being either of those things. I was still in shock that he said it at all, but I suppose I'd been thinking exactly the same thing when I saw Tara at the party. I crawled back to hide in the back of my head and left Rebecca Louise, age 12 years and 364 days, sitting in my place.

"No? Then what was the message for those people at the party? What were you trying to say about yourself when you put those clothes on?"

This time Dad expected an answer. The silence lengthened as Tara struggled to find something to say that wouldn't immediately condemn her.

"That I was a party girl who wanted to have a good time." Tara's response was cautious and uncertain. Even I could tell her answer could be taken the wrong way.

"A good time." Dad nodded as he thought about her answer. "So, did you have a good time?"

"Yes!" Tara glanced at me and then changed her answer. "At first..."

Dad took a sip of his tea then carefully put his cup down before he looked at Tara.

"What sort of party was this? There was music! Were there groups of young people sitting around, talking about music and so on?"

Tara ducked her head to hide a wry grin. "Not really."

"Was there dancing?"

"At first!"

"Who was dancing? A whole crowd of people?"

"No, just us — just Laura and Tracey and me."

"And what were the young men doing while the three of you were dancing?"

"Nothing!"

Dad stared at her. "I'm quite sure that's not true."

Mom leaned forward to get into her line of vision. "Honey, just tell us. What were the young men doing while the three of you were dancing?" Mom's voice was actually gentle.

Tara stared straight ahead for a moment and then her face crumpled. "They stood around and watched us. They kept bringing us cups of punch that tasted like..."

"The punch was spiked with booze. We know about that."

" ... and they were ... they were ... laughing at us." Tears started flowing down Tara's cheeks. "They were making jokes about us and deciding who was going to ... what they were going to ... do with us." The last few words were smothered as Tara started sobbing.

She stood there sobbing — and we all sat there watching her.

"They decided!" Dad's voice was cold with anger — then it went soft again. "You went there wanting to be treated like a party girl and they treated you like a slut anyway!"

"Daddy, it was horrible! I hated it!"

"Oh, honey. I am so sorry." I heard Dad whisper it, but I'm not sure that Tara heard.

Dan's face was a mask. I could see fury boiling behind that mask. I was kind of glad he hadn't known all this last night while we were at the house. There wouldn't have been much house left, those boys would be in hospital and Dan would be sitting in jail this morning instead of being here with us.

Tara was sobbing uncontrollably. Nobody moved to comfort her.

"I suppose," Mom said softly. "I suppose that we should be grateful that it was only booze in those cups of punch. At another time I'm going to have a long talk about some of the other nasty things that can be put into drinks at parties — especially the sort of parties where silly young girls don't belong."

Mom waited until the sobbing died down a bit. "If you had asked us — either of us — about the party we would have said no. Because we would have known straight away what sort of party it was. We would have known how they would behave at such a party. We would have said no because we want to protect you from being treated exactly like that."

"I didn't want to go, they made me," sobbed Tara.

"Did they tie you up and carry you?" Mom's voice cracked like a whip. "Did they drag you by the arms and legs? No? Then don't talk nonsense about being made to go. And did they hold you down and force you into those clothes? No? Then don't you dare try to tell us they made you wear that disgusting outfit."

Mom was on a roll now and her voice was rising. "Of course they treated you like a slut. You turned up at a party full of drunken eighteen year olds. You were dressed like a tuppeny whore, so of course they treated you like a tuppeny whore."

[Editor's note: Tuppeny whores were cheap streetwalkers in Victorian England who were desperate enough to ply their trade for a tuppence (or two pennies) — less than the price of a cup of coffee.]

"I hate these clothes," sobbed Tara. "I never wanted to wear them. Laura said I had to. She said I couldn't go in school clothes, but I didn't want to go like this. I hate this stupid outfit."

"At last we agree on something," barked Mom. "Well, we can fix that right now. I've got some scissors just here. I'll cut those disgusting things right off you. Slice them up into pieces. You'll never have to wear them again."

Mom started opening drawers, looking for her scissors. Tara stood there in shock, her face completely white. I stared at Mom. Was she serious? Was she seriously going to cut Tara's clothes off her, here in the kitchen? Strip her naked? Tara was shaking in fright, with her arms wrapped protectively around her body, but she didn't move from her spot on the kitchen floor.

Finally, Mom found the scissors and held them up in triumph. She started advancing on Tara with a gleam in her eye. I couldn't believe what was about to happen.

Suddenly two things happened nearly at once. Dan practically leapt out of his chair and scooped Tara to the side, putting himself between her and Mom. At the same Dad slammed his hand down onto the table and yelled, "STOP!"

"We are NOT going to humiliate ANYBODY by stripping their clothes off them. That is a line WE will not cross. EVER!"

Dad stared straight at Mom. She nodded and carefully put the scissors down on the table. Tara was clinging onto Dan, with her face buried into his chest. I was pretty sure she was crying. Mustering up all my courage, I scooped up the scissors and hid them in my lap — out of Mom's sight and out of her reach.

Mom quietly returned to her seat — my usual seat — and picked up her teacup. She sipped at it and the face she made told us it was cold. Carefully she put the teacup back down and crossed her hands on the table.

Nobody was looking at anybody. It was like a game where the first two people to make eye contact would be voted off the island. It was easy for me. I was hiding in the back of my head, letting Rebecca Louise stare down at the table.

Dad said something which sounded all muffled.

In the distance, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dan take Tara out of the room. Mom and Dad sat in silence. I sat in the back of my skull and curled myself up into a little ball.

Mom reached out a long arm and pulled her normal chair back into position at the table. She stayed in my seat though. I felt a bit odd sitting in Tara's usual place with Dad on one side of me and Mom on the other. It was like the world had been tipped up and shaken then put back down with everything falling back into new positions — not quite the same but close.

Dan brought Tara back into the room. I found myself looking straight at her. She was wearing one of the robes from the bathroom. Her eyes were all red and puffy from crying but her face had obviously been washed. She was carrying the skirt and top in one hand.

Dad gestured for Tara to sit in Mom's chair. She tightened up the belt on the bathrobe and slid into place, dropping the little pile of clothes on the table in front of her. Dan sat back down as well and resumed his role as audience.

Mom leaned forward and carefully laid out the skirt and the top flat on the table.

Mom looked around the table. "Where are the scissors?"

"Bec has them," explained Dad. Dad's big meaty hand landed on the table in front of me. "We need the scissors now, sweetheart."

Rebecca brought the scissors out from under the table where I had hidden them and carefully placed them in Dad's hands. All I could do was watch.

Then Dad reached right across the table and placed the scissors in front of Tara.

"Now cut them up." Dad's instruction was curt and non-negotiable.

Tara glanced sideways at Mom then down at the clothes.

"Cut them into small pieces, right now." Mom's instructions were equally non-negotiable.

"They aren't mine," muttered Tara, looking down at the table. "They belong to Laura."

"She gave them to you to wear." Mom's voice was hard. "She knew they weren't appropriate. She'll just have to live without them."

Mom and Dad were making her choose between Laura and them. Tara had to decide which was scarier. It was a no-contest as far as I was concerned.

"If Laura is really upset, she can ask her father to send me a bill," Dad added. "I would be delighted to have a conversation with him about the sort of clothes his fourteen year old daughter is wearing and encouraging her friends to wear."

"You can't talk to him. He's away on a business trip."

"That's why God created the mobile phone. I called the DiMartino housekeeper this morning and asked for the number. I spoke to him this morning before breakfast. I had the unfortunate task of describing to him what his daughter was doing last night."

"You didn't!" Tara was horrified.

"I had no choice." Dad shrugged. "That girl got herself into a serious situation last night. I have a moral obligation to make sure her parents know about it so they can look after her. I believe Mr DiMartino was cancelling his trip and arranging an immediate flight home. I'm only thankful that things didn't go quite as far with you, though according to Dan, they got mighty close."

"Just in case you were in any doubt," commented Mom quite calmly, "you will not be going anywhere other than school for quite some time. And as for those clothes you were wearing ... Let's just say that any clothing that you wear anywhere, anytime that I haven't personally approved will suffer the same fate as these. Now pick up the scissors and start cutting."

Tara had no fight left in her. She gave in and picked up the scissors. She was crying silently as she cut into the clothing. Once she started, it didn't take long before there was nothing in front of her but a small pile of rags.

Mom took the scissors from her and leaned over to slide them back in a drawer. She picked up a couple of pieces of rag from the table and slapped one into Tara's hand.

"Now up you get. The two of us have some dusting to do in the living room."

Dad stood as well and scooped up a couple of rags for himself. "I believe I have some windows to clean. These should do nicely."

The rest of the rags were quickly collected and dropped into the little bag of cleaning rags that lived in the cupboard under the sink. Something told me that Tara would be using quite a few of them to do various cleaning jobs over the next few days.

Dan left the table as well and went looking for Pearl.

That left me sitting there. At last I had some semblance of quiet and I could let the tension slowly ease out of me. Very, very slowly my stomach untied itself and the clenching ache I'd been feeling in there reduced to a dull echo of hurt. It seemed easiest to just keep sitting and let that all happen at its own pace.

-------

I heard Mom and Dan meet up in the hallway. They spoke quietly and I don't think they realized I could hear.

"Back in the kitchen, you stood up to your mother. You put yourself between me and Tara and you defended her from me."

"Yes I did, Mom. You know I will protect my sisters anyway I can — including from you. You were going too far."

"I'm not at all upset that you did that. You're a fine young man, Daniel Freeman. I'm very proud of you."

-------

Dan and Pearl passed through the kitchen.

Pearl said goodbye and said how she was looking forward to meeting up again this evening.

Somehow I got my hand to wave. I think I even managed a bit of a smile for her.

I sat there, gradually crawling my way back to the front of my skull.

-------

Mom came in and sat next to me. She used the scrap of Tara's top in her hand to wipe down the table. She was watching me closely.

"Are you terribly upset?"

I wondered if my voice was going to work.

"I know it had to happen, and I know I had to be here, but I hated every minute of it." My voice was really quiet. I think Mom could hear me though.

"You never intended to strip Tara naked, did you? It was all an act that you planned out with Dad before breakfast."

Mom smiled a bit. "Peter said you would see through it. What gave me away?"

I shrugged. At the time it had just seemed obvious. I had to think about how I knew.

"You took way too long to find the scissors. You know exactly where everything is in the kitchen. You were deliberately delaying so she would get more afraid."

I paused and licked my lips while I thought things through.

"Also, you gave in too easily. You just stopped and put the scissors down when Dad told you to. You never give up without a fight, even when you're wrong."

"Hah!" She flipped her hair and raised her chin. "When am I ever wrong?"

I smiled at that, but carefully didn't answer. "I think you like being unpredictable. Some of it is your condition and you can't help that. But a lot of it is you playing that up and exaggerating things so that people — especially us — don't know what you will do next."

Mom scowled at me. "You are far too young to be making observations like that."

I shrugged. Mom's scowl softened to a sincere frown.

"I would never have threatened to strip Tara if I didn't know Peter would stop me. It isn't just your father's rule that we will never cross that line, it's my rule too."

"But you didn't mind letting Tara think you would do it — at least for a moment."

"Exactly!"

She used the rag in her hand to polish the back of the kitchen chair she was sitting on. It seemed more like a way to fill in time than any real desire to clean things.

"Do you understand why we did all that?"

"You had to make Tara choose between obeying Laura and obeying you. Since nothing else had worked, you had to make her more frightened of what you could do than she was of what Laura could do."

Mom shook her head. "One of these days, I'm going to start listening to Peter when he tells me the things you'll be able to figure out without anyone explaining them to you."

I ducked my head. The list of things I couldn't work out for myself was embarrassingly long.

"We also had to get her to acknowledge that going to the party was a bad idea. Not just because she was disobeying us, but because it was a bad situation for her to be in. If we'd just told her she was grounded and sent her to her room, she would have obeyed, but she would have convinced herself that she was being punished because she was caught and that the party itself wasn't that bad. She would have done it again and just tried harder not to get caught."

I nodded. That made sense too.

"Are you okay now, honey?"

I nodded. "I'll just sit here for a while though, if that's okay."

"That's fine, honey. You just sit for a while." She kissed me lightly on the cheek and left me alone.

I sat and let my brain have a rest. All the bits of my brain that normally spend their time whirling around and around, settled and found places to perch around the edges of my skull.

-------

Tara came into the kitchen wearing her bathrobe, with a tired expression on her face and a scrap of her top dangling from one hand. She carefully used the rag to wipe the table in front of me. Then she put down my sketchpad and pencil that I must have left in the living room.

She put them in front of me like some sort of peace offering. I don't know if that's how she meant it, but that's what it felt like to me.

Neither of us said a word.

Tara left me alone and I sat looking down at my sketchpad.

-------

Some time later, the conversation I'd had that morning with Pearl bubbled back up into my mind. She had wanted to know if I could draw Faith and Danielle — two people I'd only just met — without having them sitting in front of me.

I could feel a relaxed, little smile spread across my face.

I opened my pad, found a blank page and picked up the pencil.



-------

Chapter 30: Saturday Lunch

Drawing...

Drawing...

I sat back and looked at my picture. I'd drawn Faith and Danielle sitting together on the bleachers before the football game. I'd tried to capture the moment just after they had kissed each other. It had been a fairly quick kiss, but just after that they had cuddled against each with contented little smiles on their faces. They weren't looking at each other, they'd been looking at Pearl and me, but their entire bodies seemed to be reaching out and holding the other person. It was an expression of total comfort and love for each other.

I hadn't drawn any background — just the bench they were sitting on. I closed my eyes and called up my memory of that scene in my mind. The people behind them were a bit fuzzy. I hadn't taken any notice of them at the time, so now I couldn't remember them properly. I guess I could draw in some blurry random people just to make a background but I didn't think the picture needed it. It seemed to work with just Faith and Danielle, sitting on a bench, looking out of the picture but totally wrapped up in each other.

I looked for places that needed finishing off and didn't find any. I tilted the picture a bit and tipped my head to one side so I could look at it from a different angle. It was definitely finished. Carefully I sat my sketchbook down flat on the table and put my pencils beside it, my gaze still fixed on the picture. I decided I liked it. It was a piece of artwork that I could be proud of.

I closed my eyes and sat up straight, tilting my head to one side then the other to get the kinks out of my neck. I wriggled my fingers a bit to stretch them out after holding the pencil for so long. I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Something was strange. I breathed in again and this time I could identify the smell of freshly baked bread filling the kitchen. Mom had been using the bread maker again and I didn't even notice. The bread smelt like it was ready so I opened my eyes, prepared to get up and take the bread out of the machine.

I had to blink a couple of times to absorb what I was seeing. The table was spread with food, including a freshly baked loaf of bread — half of which was already gone. The rest of the loaf already had several thick slices cut from it. Mom, Dad, Tara and Angie (with Lucy) were sitting around the table. Tara was across the table from me, sitting in the seat Pearl had used for breakfast. That was probably because I was still sitting in her usual chair. She was still wearing the same bathrobe she'd put on during breakfast. Angie was still wearing her two dresses and probably those bright purple shoes, though I couldn't see them. Everyone had bowls of soup in front of them. It looked like they'd been eating for a while because Dad's soup was gone and the tide was nearly out in everyone else's bowl. Tara was just popping the last morsel of a slice of bread into her mouth. Mom and Dad's bread plates only had crumbs left.

Nobody said anything. They just sat there, looking at me — except for Angie, she was playing with lumps of bread on her plate. Tara chewed on her mouthful of bread but that didn't hide her grin.

I guess I must have looked surprised. I thought I'd been alone in the kitchen and suddenly it was crowded. The evidence suggested they'd been around me for a while. I hadn't noticed them — at all!

"That look on your face — priceless," commented Tara.

A little voice in the back of my head wanted to call out, "I see you're still wearing a bathrobe!" That would certainly wipe the smirk off her face. But the words never made it out of my mouth. I'd like to be able to claim that I was being nice and avoiding a fight with my sister. I think the truth is that I was still trying to cope with the shock of opening my eyes and seeing everyone sitting there.

"Now, girls! Don't start fighting." Mom's voice was pleasant but there was a deep, dark warning hidden in the spaces between her words. See, I didn't open my mouth and still I got into trouble for fighting. How fair is that? Okay, maybe I was glaring — but that shouldn't count.

A thought occurred to me and I snatched my sketchbook back up off the table, fearful that I'd put it down in a mess and ruined my artwork. I let out a small sigh of relief when I saw that it had been sitting in the small island of clear, clean space which my family had thoughtfully left around me.

Dad helped himself to another thick slice of bread and smeared a thin layer of butter onto it. Then he pointed at my pad with his knife.

"Danielle and Faith, am I right? The two girls with Pearl at the football game last night?"

I nodded. I was still trying to adjust to my family suddenly being there. It was like I'd been sitting in a dark room when suddenly the lights went on and a whole crowd jumped out from behind the furniture and yelled, "Surprise!" It was a bit scary — no, not really scary so much as ... unsettling. I was unsettled. Okay, maybe I was a bit scared too.

Mom looked accusingly at Dad. "You didn't tell me they were lovers. When you told me about it, you made it sound like you had these three beautiful girls hanging all over you for the entire evening — panting in lust for you. Looking at Bec's picture, it's pretty clear that two of them weren't all that much interested in you. And we know Pearl is more interested in your son than she is in you."

Dad sat up straight and tried to look dignified. "Please! Allow a man the simple pleasure of a harmless fantasy. They are indeed beautiful young women and they did me the courtesy of paying attention to a lonely old man."

Mom blew a raspberry at him across the table. Dad pouted and tried to look unhappy, but his eyes were sparkling.

"You're not that old, Dad," Tara spoke up, trying to cheer him up.

"And besides..." She paused and ran her eye down across his broad shoulders and down his chest. "You are pretty sexy for a guy your age. I'm sure they wouldn't have minded hanging out with you for a few hours."

I tilted my head to the side and looked Dad up and down. Well, he was sitting at the table, so I looked his top half up and down. Tara was right, he definitely had a kind of sexy thing going — for an old man that is.

In fact, he looked just like an older version of Dan ... or maybe Dan was just a younger version of him. Hmm. That was a complicated thought. I mean it was a thought with lots of complicated thoughts connected to it — all in a big long chain of thoughts that I didn't really want to follow to the end.

Dad had been looking at me when Tara spoke up and I saw in his eyes that he was a bit uncomfortable with what she was saying — and with the way that I was looking at him.

"You really shouldn't say things like that. It's not right."

"Oh, don't be like that, Peter. Besides," Mom teased from the other end of the table, "I happen to think she is right. You are a bit sexy for an old man."

"You're allowed to say things like that. You aren't my daughter. There are some things daughters shouldn't say to their fathers."

Dad really did look uncomfortable. I decided to take pity on him and change the subject. I stood up and held up my sketchbook.

In my head I said, "I'm going to put this away in my room. I don't want to get food on it." I'm not sure how much of that actually came out of my mouth. Or if it did, how much could be heard.

"That's fine, honey," said Mom with a smile. Maybe she heard what I said, or maybe she just guessed. "Do you want some soup?"

I nodded. "Yes please." I think that was loud enough to be heard.

"I poured some out for you." Mom pointed at a soup bowl sitting on the counter with a bread plate resting on top of it, 'to keep the flavor in' as Mom always says. "It's probably still warm, but I'll just zap it in the microwave for you."

I smiled. "Thanks, Mom," I whispered.

"Honey," Mom stopped me before I got out the door, "it's a really good picture."

I smiled some more. "Thanks, Mom."

-------

The sheets had been stripped from my bed and the blankets and coverless pillow piled into a heap on the floor. A neatly folded set of clean sheets were sitting on the mattress waiting for someone — meaning me — to remake the bed. Also on the mattress were my two bags from school. Obviously Dan had emptied the trunk of his car and brought the bags in for me. I screwed up my nose as I realised that the clothes I'd put in them yesterday had been all wet and would probably be quite manky and disgusting by now. I decided to leave them until after lunch. They wouldn't get much worse in that amount of time and I wouldn't get put off my lunch.

Also on the mattress was my science book. I'd given it to Pearl to put in her bag last night at the football game. She must have had it with her when she came to the house and forgotten to give it back to me. I picked it up and put it on the pile of books sitting on one side of my desk. As I did so, two brochures slid a little way out of it. They were the two brochures from Dan's college that talked about courses I might be able to do.

I took them with me back to the kitchen and dropped them into my lap as I sat down at the table.

The soup was a thick vegetable soup and the fresh bread just melted in my mouth. I wasn't super hungry but it did hit the spot quite nicely. It was also nice to be able to eat without my stomach doing flip-flops like had been happening during breakfast. I mean, apart from Tara still wearing her bathrobe it was a fairly normal sort of lunch.

Once I'd taken the edge off my hunger, I decided to be brave and talk about the college courses. Well, I would try and lead up to them carefully. I wasn't stupid enough to just come out and say everything.

"Mom, have you heard of an artist called Arbena Satiri?"

Mom crinkled her nose up as she thought. "The name rings a bell, but I can't place her right now. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you said we could look for a proper art teacher for me."

"Do you think this Arbena Satiri would be willing to teach you?"

"I don't know. She runs a class once a week. I'd have to take along a folio of my stuff to get in."

"A class once a week seems reasonable. What else do you know about the class? How much does it cost? Where is it held?"

"That's a bit of a complication. It's a class at Dan's school. It's a three hour class starting at 1:00 pm each Wednesday. It's designed for school students to attend for college credits. I don't know if they'll take me or not. Her personal assistant spoke to me and I showed her one of my drawings. She said she thought I was good enough to get in, but I think she thought I was a bit older." I said it all in a bit of a rush — trying to get past the problems as quick as I could.

I took the art brochure off my lap and pushed it in front of Mom, pointing at the description of the class I was interested in.

"See it's not that expensive. And look, you can read her biography. And there's a print of one of her artworks. I saw some line drawing she did. They're amazing. I think she'd be really good."

Mom was frowning and glancing between the brochure and Dad. I didn't even want to look at Dad's expression.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a class for school students — kids your own age. This will be at a college — full of college students.

"College students and high school students and me — people who want to learn art. What does it matter how old they are?"

"What does matter is that you are too young to be hanging around with people that age," rumbled Dad. "You don't belong in a college until you're older — much older."

I looked down at the table. This wasn't going so well. I didn't expect it to be easy but I thought at least Mom would like the idea. I wasn't ready to give up yet. Someone taught me that sometimes you had to fight to get the things you wanted. Who taught me that? Oh yeah! That would be The Parents.

"I was hanging around with people that age last night and I had a great time. Everyone thought I was older — like in high school. The cheerleaders liked me. They even said I'd be good as one of them. Everybody liked me."

I blinked. They really did say that. They didn't even know I was listening so they weren't telling stories to make me feel good. That was a really big thought. Everybody liked me.

"What's the harm?" Tara wanted to know. "They'd probably adopt her like a pet. They'd pat her on the head and feed her biscuits. She's too young for them to be much interested in anything else about her." Sometimes I wish Tara wouldn't try to help me.

Dad scowled his blackest scowl. "You didn't see what I saw during the first half of the game last night."

I felt myself blush, which I tried to hide behind a curtain of hair. Trust Dad to bring that up right now.

"What happened during the first half? I think you should explain, young lady. I want to hear all about it." Mom was using her 'Obey me or suffer' voice, but for some reason it wasn't as scary as it usually was. All it did was make me angry.

"Don't pretend you don't already know about it," I hissed at Mom. "You probably heard all about it within ten minutes of Dad walking in the door last night. What's more, I'd almost guarantee you laughed your head off when he told you. I'd bet the candles off my cake on that one. So stop acting all surprised and shocked. It was nothing. You know it was nothing, but you're trying to make it sound like I did something wrong; just so you can have a go at me.

"As for you, Daddy, you saw it all. So you know perfectly well, it was just a whole lot of silliness. It was fun, it was silly and it was perfectly harmless. So don't start making a mountain out of a molehill."

Okay, a little bit in the back of the brain was wondering what the heck I was saying. It certainly wasn't helping me get into that college class. Somehow my mouth had become disconnected from my brain and now it was just running completely out of control.

"And by the way, Tara, just so you know what we're talking about. I was giving good-luck kisses to the guys in the football team last night. That's right, I made out with the entire freaking team. The ironic thing is that I got more action than you did last night. The difference is that I was the one deciding who got kissed. So don't talk to me about people treating me like a pet, when last night you..."

Somehow I managed to snap my jaws shut before I could finish that last sentence. I was staring straight across the table at Tara. The things I'd nearly said...

There was silence around the table. Except for Angie, she was grizzling. I had been shouting and now she was upset. No one moved to comfort her.

Mom and Dad had been deliberately not mentioning that topic throughout lunch. I mean, Tara was being punished. She'd had her lecture, so now they were making sure she knew she was still a part of the family by having a normal lunch. And I ruined it. I sat here and let my big mouth run away with itself and ruined it all. Not to mention ruining any chance I had of doing that college class. I'd stopped myself before I said the worst things, but everyone knew what I'd been about to say, so it was as bad as if I'd said it.

I couldn't face Tara any more. I looked down at the table. I stared at the grain in the wood as if there were answers hidden deep in the waving lines. There were no answers, just whirls in the wood.

The sound of Angie's fussing punctuated the stillness of the room. Her every moan, sniffle and whimper were commas in a sentence made up of pauses. After a short time, the grizzling halted with a sigh. Exclamation mark!

The silence condemned me. I couldn't bear it any longer. I wanted to flee; to run away and hide. I pushed my chair back. Mom said something but I couldn't hear her words. I stood — well, I half-stood — I rose half-way out of my chair and stopped. A large hand on my back stopped me — pressed me back down into the chair — locked me in place.

Dad said something to me but it was just a blur of noise. His hand stopped pressing me down, but the message was clear — nobody escapes.

I heard Mom move out of her chair, open and close a drawer then sit beside me. Mom's hand slid into my vision — interrupting my view of the table. The hand placed a single small candle onto the table in front of me and then retreated. The lemon colored wax spiralled up its length then tapered to the small piece of white thread that was its wick.

Another candle, the same color as the first, was placed beside it on the table. Then there was another and another until I had thirteen candles lined up in a row in front of me.

What?

My brain couldn't answer the question.

"What?"

My question was only a whisper, but it echoed in the noisy silence of the room. A puff of air from when I spoke moved the first two candles into a "V" shape. In roman numerals that made it five — five plus eleven ones equals sixteen. A single breath of air and I was suddenly three years older. It didn't seem right. My right hand lifted off my lap and carefully straightened up the two candles then it returned to its place on my lap. Sanity was restored — I was thirteen again.

"You won your bet." Mom's voice was soft — a lot softer than normal. There was a hint of something different in her voice. Something I wasn't used to hearing.

"You bet the candles off your cake that I laughed my head off when Dad told me about you kissing all those boys. You were absolutely right. I laughed. Your dad laughed too. It sounds like you had fun and we were both pleased for you. We should have realised that you were feeling fragile just now. We shouldn't have pushed you like that. We were ... teasing you a little and you weren't ready for that. We had no right to make it sound like you did something wrong."

Mom's voice was compelling. It drew my eyes up from the table until my gaze found her face.

She hadn't finished talking.

"I'm sorry."

I blinked and then blinked again. Did Mom just apologise to me?

"And I'm sorry too, sweet-heart," Dad joined in. "As you said, it was clearly just a bit of fun. I'm sure there's some genetic thing that makes it hard for a father to watch his daughter kissing boys. You looked so tiny down there amongst those football players. For a moment I was worried that they would all just trample over the top of you and squash you like a bug. But then, within ten or fifteen minutes, you had them all scurrying to do everything you told them and then you had them lining up to receive a kiss from you like you were a princess. I went from worried to wanting to wring the necks of every boy who put their lips within three feet of yours. After I got over that, all I felt was pride. I was so proud of you last night, honey, for everything you did. And I'm sorry that I let my fatherly instincts get in the way of telling you that."

Huh! That was an amazingly nice thing for Dad to say. My eyes went a little bit misty. Wow!

And also, two apologies from The Parents within two minutes of each other — that must be some kind of record. Double wow! I didn't know how to react. I didn't know how to respond. In desperation, I resorted to my favorite tactic and did nothing.

I quickly glanced across at Tara, wondering if she would be inspired to join in the series of apologies. One look at her face told me I shouldn't hold my breath waiting for that one. Oh well, at least she wasn't trying to scratch my eyes out. Still, I'd scored two out of three from the free-throw line as far as apologies went. I wasn't going to turn down a shooting average of 66%.

Mom was talking again and I had to focus a bit to understand what she was saying.

"I don't want you to make a habit of it, but do you realise that was the first time since you were an infant that you actually yelled at me when I did something you didn't like? Oh, sure, you've whined or groaned or moped or sulked and a few times you've even argued, but you don't normally yell at me. I should be cross, but I can't help thinking that it's about time! There are places and times when it is good for you to stand up for yourself — even to yell a bit, if that's what it takes to get your point across. I'm not going to criticize you for doing that today. Just don't yell at me again, okay? I'm just a weak and dainty little thing — I can't cope with being yelled at. Maybe you should practice yelling at your father and your brother — they're both big and strong — they can take it."

I had to stop myself from laughing in her face. Mom had somehow managed to describe herself as a weak and dainty little thing, with a completely straight face. I don't think I've ever met anybody less weak or dainty. It was like hearing someone describe Buckingham Palace as 'just someone's house.' Okay, maybe I laughed a little bit. Mom smiled when she saw me laughing. Apparently that was what she was hoping for.

Mom rattled the box with the rest of the candles in it.

"Care to go double or nothing? I bet you can't tell me the first thing Dad said when he came home from the game last night."

I licked my lips, glanced across at Dad then looked back at Mom. Was she being serious? Yes! But she was offering the bet as a way to lighten the mood. My brain recalled several lectures from Dad about making bets: 'Don't ever bet anything you aren't prepared to lose.' Was I prepared to lose the candles off my cake? Having candles and blowing them out is a fun part of having a birthday but I wouldn't really suffer if I missed out on doing that. Just as well really because I'd already bet them once when I was shouting at Mom.

Mom was watching me think. I realised she wouldn't mind if I rejected the bet. She'd already achieved what she wanted just by offering the bet and making me — and the rest of the family — think about it.

I looked at Dad and wondered if I could figure out the answer. He saw me looking and raised one eyebrow at me. No help there.

I already knew that Dad had boasted about having three gorgeous girls with him for the entire evening but I didn't think he would have said that first. He would have wanted to talk about Dan's touchdown and my touchdown. He would probably have been just about bursting to talk about both of those things as soon as he walked in the door. But being Dad, he wouldn't have just come right out and said what happened.

"He probably said something like — 'I bet you can't guess who scored a touchdown tonight, ' or maybe 'You'll never guess who scored a touchdown tonight.'"

Mom looked at me, then looked at Dad, then looked back at me. Then she sighed and put the box of party candles down on the table beside the little row of thirteen candles that were already in front of me.

"You win! His actual words were 'You'll never believe who scored a touchdown tonight, ' but you were close enough." Mom smiled warmly at me.

"And he was absolutely correct. I'm still not sure I believe it. From what your dad told me, it seems like you had an incredibly exciting night. I was thinking of going along to watch Dan play his last game but I forgot to organise a sitter for Angie. Now I'm regretting not just bundling her up and bringing her along. I'm really sorry I missed it."

"Me too," muttered Tara under her breath. I heard it, but I'm not sure if either of The Parents did.

"Honey, it's worth pointing out that earlier this week you were drawing pictures that suggested you doubted if you could ever be anything other than the shy retiring little Becky we've seen so much of in the past."

I nodded at Mom, wondering what she was trying to say.

"Do you really think shy retiring little Becky could have gone down there amongst those football players and stood there telling them what to do? Do you really think shy retiring little Becky could have run out onto that football field and scored a touchdown with so much style in front of that big crowd? Do you really think shy retiring little Becky could have gone into that party last night and confronted the boys who were doing what they were doing to both Tara and Laura?"

I stared at Mom in shock. I couldn't do anything but agree with her. Thinking back through everything that I had done at the football game and at the party, the person I was a month ago could never have done any of it. I had done it, all of it, and I had done it all with confidence. Well, I'd been nervous a few times, but I'd done most of it with confidence.

I was filled with surprise and wonder. That girl, the one I had thought was trapped behind a mirror, wasn't trapped at all. She was free — she was me — I was free.

And last night, the cheerleaders — some of them had admired me, some of them had even been jealous of me. Maybe they weren't being idiots like I'd decided at the time. Maybe they saw something in me worth seeing.

The thoughts were whirling around in my brain so fast that my head was hurting. I guess that's a sign that I was having another of those epiphany things. They always hurt my head.

I felt like a pawn in a game of chess that's somehow made its way to the other side of the board. I had been magically transformed from a lowly, useless pawn into a strong and powerful queen. Not the only queen on the board, naturally, but still a queen. And I hadn't even noticed — not really — not until Mom pointed it out just now.

From the time I'd arrived at school yesterday morning, I'd been pulling off moves that belonged more to a queen than to a pawn. When I was pushed in the water, when I was tripped during lunch, when that idiot had tried to sit next to me on the bus, sorting out the football players who were littering and even helping out Joe when he broke his arm — those were only the start of the list; they were all queen moves — either charging in head first or sliding sideways or skipping off at an angle, not just to escape from the problem but to confront it in a way that people didn't expect from me.

I became aware that I was sitting upright in my chair with a mysterious little smile on my face. I had unconsciously adopted the pose that earlier in the week I had been calling my Little Miss Normal pose. That was funny. I'd spent nearly a whole day trying to pretend to be Little Miss Normal, and now it turned out that she was me. I'd been pretending to be me — how does that work? Sometimes my brain makes me do the weirdest things. That was a bit weird, wasn't it?

Mom cleared her throat.

"So ... we've established that you're growing up. We've established that now you're more able to mix with different sorts of people without disappearing inside your little shell. Now that we agree on those things, let's start this entire conversation again."

She poked at the art class brochure with her finger.

"I believe you wanted to talk about doing this art class. I think I have heard of Arbena Satiri. Now that I've seen a sample of her work, I remember seeing a display of her art a couple of years ago. I was impressed with her art and I heard at the time that she was a good teacher. I would love for you to take a class with her if we can manage it."

Mom smiled warmly at me and I breathed a little sigh of relief.

"I assume that I will need to talk to Miss Webster to get you out of school each Wednesday afternoon. You have been getting pretty good grades at school. We will expect you to keep those grades up by completing for homework anything you miss because of this. I gather that in math you are sometimes working ahead of the class. In fact, your math teacher, Mr Palu, said to me at the last meeting that he wished he could start you on some high school math but he doesn't have the experience to do that himself. What that means is that it sounds like you won't have any trouble keeping up in math. You need to make sure you do the same in your other classes."

Dad chimed in, "I suppose we will also have to convince the college to accept you as a student. There's probably a big difference between accepting seventeen or eighteen year old high school students looking for college credits and accepting a thirteen year old."

I nodded at Dad. I knew that was going to be an issue, but I'd heard of young people going to college, so I knew it wasn't impossible.

"I'll just have to take along a good enough folio of art. If I can convince Ms Satiri that she should support my application, then I think they will accept me."

"I think some of the work you've been doing in the last few days should be good enough for that. You've really taken a step up in the quality of your art, honey." Mom doesn't easily hand out comments like that about art. I had no choice, but to accept what she was saying as being true.

"Over the next few weeks, you should try and do a variety of different drawings — people, places, landscapes, whatever strikes your fancy. Just stick to pencil drawings — that's your strongest medium. It's a pity you can't take your closet doors — I see you've finished them and they really are good."

That comment had me gaping like a fish. I was so sure they were lousy, but Mom didn't seem to think so.

Mom didn't seem to notice my reaction. She was still in planning mode. "How were you thinking of getting to and from the college? Dan will be there through until June, so you could come home with him each afternoon. I suppose you would have to catch a bus from your school to the college each Wednesday during lunchtime. I'm not particularly happy about that, but I guess we don't have much choice."

That was the moment I'd been waiting for.

"Well, I could do that, or ... I could go in with Dan first thing each Wednesday morning. Then I could attend their high school math class in the morning and do the art class in the afternoon. That way I wouldn't have to travel on the bus at all."

I pulled the second brochure off my lap and placed it on the table in front of Mom. I carefully pointed at the math class I wanted to take and then sat back. I was holding my breath a little bit. This plan could easily blow up in my face.

Mom looked down at the brochure then at me. The expression in her face made it clear that she was aware how I had manoeuvred her into accepting the math class as well as the art class. She'd never have allowed me to go all the way to college just to do the math class, but she was going to let me do this and we both knew it. I think she wanted to be cross with me for manipulating her, but she couldn't do that because she knew I was right.

Dad suddenly chuckled. "Bec, that was delightful. You cornered her into agreeing to it before you even asked." He was laughing big belly-laughs now. "So, Mrs Louise Freeman, you've just had a taste of your own medicine. How does it feel?"

Mom was staring at Dad — obviously trying to scowl at him, but her face was all contorted as if she was trying to stop herself laughing at the same time.

"Bec," continued Dad — ignoring Mom's glare, "we obviously did the right thing when we gave you Mom's name as your middle name. You've inherited a lot from her. Sure, you may have Lambrechts, but you're also growing into a stubborn, strong, principled, proud woman — just like your mother. But most of all, you've just shown us that you can be as sly and manipulative as the person who taught you — namely your mother."

Dad stood up, still laughing. "Tara, it looks like we're going to have to protect each other from now on. If we don't, then those two will be controlling everything in our lives. Let's go to the living room and turn on ESPN. We can plot and scheme for our survival while we pretend to watch sports."

Dad lumbered out of the kitchen, quickly followed by Tara who seemed glad for the opportunity to get out from under Mom's thumb for a little while. Mom watched them both go with undisguised affection.

"We'll let them do that for a little while. Don't worry! Dad still has to mow the lawn. I'll remind him about it before they can finish plotting our downfall. In the meantime, you need to get ready to go out. You're expected over at Liz's place in about half an hour."

I nodded at Mom. "I'm nearly ready. I just have to empty out my school bags first."

Mom used a couple of magnets to attach the two college brochures to the side of the fridge. Then she hustled me out of the kitchen so she could get on with preparations for the family party tomorrow.

-------

I stared at the closed school bag sitting on my mattress. I knew what was in there. One complete outfit of clothes, including underwear, thoroughly soaked and sitting in a plastic bag for twenty-four hours — they were going to be wet and smelly and maybe even moldy. Plus one set of sweats with greasy food scraps smeared down the front, rolled up into a ball and sitting in my bag for just as long — they were going to be manky and disgusting and just completely gross.

Somehow I had to get them out of the bag and into the laundry sink where they could soak for a while without making myself ill in the process. I picked up the bag and walked into the laundry with it. Step one — don't stink out your own bedroom.

It was a queen's move — sliding diagonally from one edge of the board to another — my room to the laundry. The move confounded my enemy — in this case the bag-full of manky clothes — and put me in a better position to attack. Life was so much better as a queen than as a pawn.

I put the bag down on top of the washing machine and tried to work up the courage to open it.

I wondered if maybe I could call out the army bomb disposal squad. They had a little remote controlled robot that could do the job quite nicely. Maybe we could do a trade. Next time they had a hostage situation, we could send in Mom with a loud-hailer. Less than an hour of listening to one of Mom's lectures and the bad guys would be surrendering, sobbing about how they didn't mean it and promising never to do it again.

I scowled at the bag in disgust.

I couldn't put it off any longer.

I held my breath, pinched my nose closed and reached for the zip...



-------

Chapter 31: Saturday Afternoon

" ... so she ended up wearing both dresses. Pearl and I figured that together they created a decent layered look — it's what all fashion-conscious three-year-olds are wearing these days."

"Well that explains that little mystery," Mom laughed as she slowed the car to turn a corner.

"Oh! Speaking of mysteries — I wanted to thank you for taking all those grotty clothes out of my school bag and putting them in the wash. I was all set up with the gas mask and the tongs ready to empty my bag. It took me ages to build up the courage, but when I opened it up they were already gone. It was such an anti-climax. I just stood there and laughed."

Mom shrugged. "You were busy drawing and I was just about to start a load of washing so it was easy."

"But Mom, they must have stunk. I was going to do it, I promise."

"I believe you honey, but it's done so stop worrying about it."

I wasn't ready to let it rest, but just then Mom pulled the car up outside Liz's house.

"Now, you and Liz are both coming back home with Dan, is that right?"

"Yup!"

"Did Dad give you some money for the movie?"

"Yup!"

"Well then, have a good time and I'll see you later."

"Okay! Bye! See you later! Love you!"

I climbed out of the car, just in time to be met by Liz who came hurtling down the drive from her front door with an overnight bag in one hand and a dress on a hanger in the other.

"Hiya Bec. Hiya Mrs Freeman."

Liz chatted with Mom briefly as she hung her dress up on the little hook inside the car door and put her bag on the passenger seat. Then we both waved goodbye as Mom drove off.

We hugged and headed up the driveway to Liz's house and started catching up on each other's news. I had a lot to tell Liz but I wasn't sure what to tell her first. Liz had launched into telling me all about her night out riding with her dad and how she'd hooked up with her biker friends. They were all the kids of the bikers her dad hung out with, most of whom had been in her dad's unit back in his army days. I waited until Liz stopped to draw a breath and let her know that I had some news too. After that, pretty much the only thing she said for the next quarter hour was "he did what?" and "you didn't" and "Oh My God!!"

-------

We were both sprawled out all over Liz's bed, sharing the space with the pile of stuffed animals that usually lives there when Liz isn't actually sleeping in the bed. I swear Liz has more stuffed animals than anyone in the world. Her current favorite, Dougal the Bear, was sitting proudly in the center at the head of the bed.

I glanced at her bedside clock. "We better get moving if we're going to catch that movie. So you better start saying goodbye to Dougal and all his friends. Bye Dougal!"

I waved goodbye to Dougal and levered myself up off the bed.

"Hah! Dougal isn't talking to you. He hasn't forgiven you for what you said earlier this week."

"What did I say?"

"Don't you remember? You threatened to kidnap Dougal and torture him if I didn't stop teasing you. I think you should say you're sorry and do something for Dougal so he knows you mean it."

I smiled at Liz as I remembered the conversation, then I turned towards Dougal. "I'm sorry Dougal. Please forgive me."

"I know what you should do. You should take Dougal with you to see the movie. It can be like a date."

"You want me to take Dougal to the multiplex ... in public?" I was a bit doubtful about walking around the mall with a stuffed animal under my arm.

"Go on, I dare you. If you take Dougal, I will take Sampson and we can make it a double date. It'll be fun." Sampson was a white dog with big black spots.

"We're not little kids anymore. People will laugh at us."

"Don't be a scaredy-cat. We're going to a kid movie. We'll be like a couple of big kids. I bet we won't be the only ones there with dolls or toys or whatever."

Liz had a wicked gleam in her eyes. She knew she was pushing me to do something a bit extreme. I guess it wasn't really that extreme, but it would certainly make me uncomfortable if everyone started staring at us and laughing at us.

"Yeah but the rest would be, like, five years old or something."

"I bet nobody cares. I bet most people ignore us. I bet anyone who does look will just smile and make some cute comment then forget about us."

"What will you bet?" I stood up straight and stared Liz straight in the eye. "If I do this and you're wrong, what will you do?"

Liz hesitated and looked at me, realizing that I was serious. She bit her lip and then held out Dougal. "Dougal! If I lose, then I will give you Dougal."

Her voice wavered slightly. Suddenly she wasn't so confident anymore. Now that she thought there was a real consequence for being wrong, I could see doubts growing behind her eyes. Strangely, it was seeing her start to waver that decided me.

"I'll do it. I won't take the bet but I'll do it. I don't want Dougal. You were right, it'll be fun. I was just being a scaredy-cat. If people laugh, then stuff them. They can go jump in a lake."

I wrapped up Liz, and Dougal, in a hug and Liz hugged me back. I let go and stepped back, then put on a posh English accent.

"I say, Dougal old chap, would you care to accompany me to the cinema? I would be most appreciative of the company."

I did a little curtsey and fluttered my eyelashes at Dougal. Liz burst out laughing and thrust Dougal at me. Once I'd taken Dougal from her, she scooped up Sampson and her purse and we headed out of the room.

-------

Mr Davidson had a can of beer in one hand and the handle of the vacuum cleaner in the other. He was cleaning the kitchen/living area of their small house and half-watching the TV at the same time which was showing ESPN with no sound.

Liz rushed over to him and wrapped her arms around him in a solid hug. He switched off the vacuum cleaner and returned the hug.

"Daddy, we're off to the mall and then to Bec's place for the night. I'll see you tomorrow evening."

"Okay, sweet-pea. Have a good time."

"Now don't forget. There's the left-over lasagna in the fridge and some frozen vegetables in the freezer to go with it."

He smiled and continued to hug her. "That's fine. I'm sure I'll manage without you for one night."

Liz was doing her usual mother hen act for her father. From what I'd seen, he was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but he seemed to enjoy having Liz trying to look after him so he usually just sat back and let her. It was kind of sweet.

I felt moved to speak up. "Mr Davidson, are you just going to sit here all on your own this evening? Why don't you come over and join us for dinner?"

He was looking doubtful, so I kept talking before he could say no. "We're having Chinese take-out. It would be no bother to get extra. I'm sure my dad would love to have you there to talk to. Sometimes he complains that he needs reinforcements with so many women in the house."

He looked like he was willing to give in — just to stop me talking. "It's very kind of you to offer. Maybe you should phone your parents and check with them before you go inviting folks around to your house."

"Okay, can I use your phone?"

He nodded and Liz looked pleased.

It didn't take long to get Dad on the phone. "Hey, it's me!"

"Hi, me! Didn't you only just leave? Is there a problem?"

"No problem. Mr Davidson was just going to be sitting at home on his own this evening and eating leftovers so I wanted to invite him over for dinner. Is that okay?"

"Sure, tell George I'd love to have him join us. Do you think you should warn him about our little 'heaven' tradition?"

"Oh Dad! We're not doing that are we?"

"Why not? It's been ages since the last time and it's always fun."

I rolled my eyes at Liz. "Okay Dad, whatever. I need to get a move on. We have to leave soon to catch a bus to this movie."

"Sure honey, that's fine." I raised my thumb to Mr Davidson, who nodded and wandered away to put his empty beer can in the recycling.

"It's just you and Liz going, isn't it?"

"Yeah, just us and Dougal and Sampson — they're our hot dates for the afternoon."

"Dates? Dates? Who are these boys?" Dad was sounding anxious. "Have I met them?"

"Dad, Dougal and Sampson are just friends of Liz." I had to swallow a giggle as I teased Dad.

"Honey, I'm not happy about you going out for an afternoon with some boys I've never met. What does George think about them? Does he say it's okay?"

I held the phone away from my ear and yelled out, "Hey Mr Davidson, Dad wants to know if you have a problem with Liz and me going to the movies with Dougal and Sampson." I held up Dougal and Liz held up Sampson so he could see who we were talking about.

"Of course I don't have a problem. Why would I?"

"Did you hear that Dad? Mr Davidson doesn't have a problem. We'll bring them back with us this afternoon so you can meet them then. How about that? I think you'll like them both."

"I guess that will have to do. We're going to have a talk when you get home about rules for dating. I didn't think I would need to have this talk so soon. Are they staying for dinner as well? Should I buy extra food for your two friends as well?"

I grinned to myself. "That won't be necessary, Dad. They won't be having dinner with us. We better go. See you later. Love you."

I hung up the phone and burst out laughing. Liz was laughing too. "I'm going to be in so much trouble when I get home. Dad thinks we're going on a date with a couple of boys. I think he's going to kill me when he finds out I was teasing him."

"Don't worry. I'm sure Dougal will protect you."

"We better go! Bye Mr Davidson. See you at about six at our place, okay?"

"Sure, Bec! I'm looking forward to it."

"Bye Dad, see you later."

Liz gave her dad a last hug and a quick kiss. I lined up behind her and gave him a hug and a kiss too.

-------

There was a middle-aged man sitting in the exact middle of the bench at the bus stop. Liz and I glanced at each other and without any discussion decided to stay standing as we waited for the bus. The man looked at us briefly then slid a tiny bit sideways as if he was making room for the two of us to sit together on the bench — provided one of us sat right next to him. There was no discussion, we stayed standing.

Liz was rabbitting on about the movie we were going to see — she's a total fan of these animated movies. I end up going to see them with her. They're usually good fun but I'm not as mad about them as Liz is. Pixar is the company that started off doing special effects for other movies. Then they branched out and started making movies of their own. Their first movies were Toy Story and A Bug's Life. They've made a few others since then. Every one of their films has either won or been nominated for Academy Awards. How do I know this? Liz can recite them all — and she proved that to me while we were standing at the bus stop.

Liz pulled her water bottle out of her backpack and was taking a quick drink when I saw her eyes suddenly go wide. She spluttered a bit and then nudged me and indicated with her eyes that I should look behind me. The man was staring straight at us with a weird expression on his face. He had his fly undone and his penis was sticking out of it. The man was staring at us and rubbing his dick!

My first reaction was, "Eeeew, gross!"

Liz burst into giggles — I think they were embarrassed giggles but I'm not sure.

My second reaction was that this penis was a whole lot smaller than all the other ones I'd seen over the last week. That reminded me of something my mother had once told me about what to do if I were ever in a situation like this

I nudged Liz in an exaggerated way and said loudly, "Hey look! It's just like a penis only smaller."

Liz looked at me, then she looked at the man, then she looked back at me and we both burst out laughing at the same time. The penis, which had been getting a little bit bigger when we started looking at it, started getting smaller again. It was quite fascinating how they did that.

Liz took her water bottle and squirted a stream of water straight into the man's crotch. That sped up the shrivelling process and wet that area of his pants, making it look as if he'd peed himself.

"Get lost you creep!" stated Liz, forcefully.

My heart was thudding in my chest. Suddenly it occurred to me that if the man got violent, we were in a lot of trouble. There were cars driving past, but there was no guarantee anyone would stop and help us if this man decided to attack us.

"You better go home and change your pants, mister. People will think you peed in your pants," I commented. "Maybe you should keep that thing in your pants next time. If you don't want to be laughed at, that is."

I grasped Liz firmly by the elbow and we walked away. My heart was still racing but I forced myself to walk.

It was such a pathetic little incident. I wondered why I was feeling scared. And it was all so stupid. I couldn't understand what he was trying to achieve by showing us his penis. Did he think we'd never seen one before? Was he expecting us to scream and run away? Or was he thinking we'd be so delighted that we would want to do sex stuff with him? I didn't think it would be a very effective way to pick up girls. Or maybe he was just lonely and wanted people to look at him.

Somehow we both managed to walk quickly but calmly until we got around the corner, then we both started squealing and ran all the way back to Liz's place.

-------

Mr Davidson was furious. First he wanted to jump on his bike and go chasing after the man and beat him to a pulp. We wouldn't let him do that. Then he wanted to call the police and have the guy arrested. We didn't want to do that either. Basically, if we reported it to the police, we would then have to spend all our afternoon hanging around and making statements and all that would happen to him was he would get a fine or something.

Liz was angry about how he'd already ruined our afternoon because now we would miss the film. Mostly, I was just thinking how sad it was that a guy like that was reduced to flashing his dick at a couple of teens to get his thrills. I decided if I saw him again that I would give him a couple of dollars so he could buy himself a Playboy or something.

Mr Davidson decided he was going to get us to the film. He made a phone call and told Liz to put on her jacket and helmet and lend me her spares. A couple of minutes later, I heard a roar outside as a young guy on a motorcycle drove up. Liz took one look out the window and squealed. She raced out the door and threw herself into his arms. I recognized the rider — he was one of Liz's biker friends. They weren't, like an item or anything. It was more that she'd adopted him as an older brother. His name was Jake something or other.

Within a couple of minutes, Liz was on the back of Jake's bike, clutching him around his waist with her helmeted head tucked in behind his back. I found myself straddled across the back of Mr Davidson's big motorcycle, clutching tightly onto his belt and trying to resist the temptation to screw my eyes shut as we roared down the road. I started screaming as soon as I felt the bike moving underneath me and I didn't stop.

It wasn't the first time I'd been on a motorcycle. Mr Davidson had given me a ride once before. It didn't help that I couldn't see where we were going. He was so wide that all I could do was look sideways and see the world whizzing past. I didn't hate it. The experience was kind of exciting. But that didn't stop me screaming. On that first ride I don't think I stopped screaming for the entire trip. Screaming inside a bike helmet is a bit weird. The sound comes out funny — it bounces around inside the helmet and some of it gets soaked into the padding and then what is left goes back into your ears in a funny distorted sort of way. It sounds like someone is being smothered underneath a pillow — someone else, I mean.

After the first time, Mr Davidson had asked me if I was okay. I'd wobbled a bit and sat down on the ground with a bump because my legs had stopped working. I'd stared up at him with big surprised eyes, trying to work out the weird feelings I was having. Then I'd asked if we could go again.

This time I was able to figure out a bit more about what I was feeling. It was that same drunk-on-excitement sensation that I'd had last night at and after the football game. The same sensation that had taken me over and made me feel invincible and fearless and strong and unstoppable. The same sensation that had made me kiss one boy and punch another one in the nose. I really wasn't sure if it was a good feeling to have or not. Mixed in with that excitement was just a hint of tingling deep down inside me that I now recognised as sexual. Riding a motorbike was turning me on. Oh My God. I stopped screaming and swallowed, trying to come to terms with that discovery.

After a little bit of thought, I decided it wasn't really that so much. It was just that I was having sooo much fun — in that having fun while riding on a rollercoaster sort of way. Mr Davidson shouted something at me while I was trying to think, but I couldn't hear him because of the helmets and the wind and the noise of the bike and so on. So I just kept hanging onto him and kept thinking about what I was feeling.

I decided I needed better words than "drunk on excitement" to describe how I was feeling. I figured I should look up some words when I got home — or maybe ask Mom and Dad. Except they wouldn't help, they would just tell me to look it up. Sometimes parents can be sooo frustrating.

I decided I liked the feeling — whatever I was going to call it. It felt totally wild. All I had to do was make sure I didn't do anything stupid while I was ... like that ... and everything would be fine.

The bike tilted a bit as we went around another corner. I opened my mouth in another scream but no sound came out. It was a silent scream. I silent-screamed all the rest of the way to the mall.

Awesome!

-------

We pulled up just outside the entrance to the multiplex. Door-to-door delivery, you can't get better than that! Mr Davidson seemed to wait for me to move but I stayed where I was because I didn't think my legs would work. They felt as if all the bones had been taken out and replaced with Jello. He slid off the bike from in front of me, which if you think about it, was remarkably agile for someone his size. He took off his helmet and peered at me with concern all over his face.

"Are you okay, Bec? I got worried when you stopped screaming."

He blinked and seemed to lose focus. I think he was just replaying what he'd said in his head as if he was worried that he'd just said something stupid. It does sound a bit strange, now I think about it.

I pulled the helmet off my head and blinked at him. I tried to tell him that I was okay but no sound came out. In the end I kind of just nodded at him. I think it was my goofy smile that finally convinced him that I was mostly okay.

He took the helmet out of my hands and rested it on the tank thing up the front of the bike — just behind the handlebars. Then he helped me slip out of the leather jacket that Liz had lent to me for the ride. Finally, he half-helped, half-lifted me off the bike. My legs wobbled a bit but the Jello had obviously set enough to support some weight.

Mr Davidson took Dougal and Sampson out of the carrier thing where they had ridden — probably not a good view from inside there but they didn't seem to be complaining — and passed them to me. We put the helmet and jacket into the now-empty carrier thing and closed the lid. Mr Davidson got one last hug from both Liz and me and then he and Jake sped off in a roar of fumes and a cloud of noise — or whatever.

My brain was still a bit disconnected from my body so I didn't move until Liz grabbed my hand and led me up the steps and into the multiplex. We'd arrived in time for the movie — just — so after a short wait in line for tickets we went straight into the cinema and sat down. We'd missed some of the advertisements but nobody cares about that!

After a moment of being told that by drinking a certain brand of soda, my life would become way more exciting than I could possibly ever want it to be, I noticed that Dougal had picked up an admirer. The little girl sitting next to me — she was maybe five or six years old — was looking at Dougal as he sat comfortably on my lap.

She saw that I'd noticed her and asked in a loud voice, "I like your bear. What's his name?"

I put my finger to my mouth. "Shhhhh!" Then I leaned a bit towards her and whispered, "His name is Dougal. Do you want to hold him for a moment?"

"Sure!" she said in a nearly quiet voice. I held out Dougal and he was taken from me and cradled carefully.

The girl seemed to realize that I was left with nobody to hold. "Do you want to hold my Barbie?" A Barbie in a cute jogging outfit was picked up from where she had been lying unseen on the seat beside the girl. She was held out to me and so I took her respectfully and propped her up on my knees.

I never had a Barbie. I vaguely remember having asked Mom a few times when I was little if I could have one. I think I kept getting long complicated adult-type answers that I didn't understand until I got the message and stopped asking. My Barbie-less-ness simply became yet another one of those mysteries in my life.

Liz leaned over and whispered in my ear. "What sort of girl are you? You're supposed to be out on a date with Dougal. First chance you get, you dump him and pick up the first skinny doll in tight pants who catches your eye."

I grinned at her and glanced sideways at the little girl who was happily hugging Dougal and running her fingers through his fur.

"Actually, I think you better keep your eye on Dougal. He seems to be the love 'em and leave 'em type. In the space of one afternoon he's gone from you to me to that little girl. Or maybe he's acting out because he's jealous. I mean, you are paying more attention to Sampson than you are to him."

We both started giggling at that. The shorts for new films started up and the little girl handed Dougal back to me. I returned her Barbie and whispered thanks to her for letting me look after her doll.

In the semi-dark of the cinema, I cuddled up to Dougal and sat back to watch the film.

-------

Those films really are fun. I laughed at all the funny stuff and cried in the sad bits and cheered to myself when the good guys won at the end. It leaves you feeling all warm and fuzzy watching a story like that. I love how in most films for children, the world is simple and every problem can be overcome with the help of friends and some determination. I feel a bit sad that the real world isn't like that. It is a bit, but it's also more complicated. And some problems can't be fixed. You just have to learn how to live with them. I loved watching the film. It made me forget all that for a while and just be happy.

After the film, Liz and I walked through the mall with our arms linked and with our small stuffed friends tucked under the other arm. I wasn't feeling self-conscious or anything. I was still buzzed from watching the film.

We walked straight past a small group of teens hanging out near the food court. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Hannah Fargo from school leaning against a pillar. We were going to walk straight past her. For a moment I wanted to steer Liz away and find a different way out of the mall, but then I realized it was already too late. She was going to spot us any second. Then I realized that I mostly didn't care. Like I'd said to Liz back at her place, stuff them all.

I straightened my back and tightened my grip on Liz's arm and kept walking straight ahead.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hannah notice us. She looked at us with that look that some people have when they've stepped in something gross. We ignored her and kept walking. I thought for a moment that she was just going to let us go past without comment but apparently she just couldn't help herself. Just as we got even with her, she muttered "lesbians" just loud enough for us to hear.

It was such a stupid thing to say. It was the same stupid thing she always said when she saw us together. To be perfectly honest, I was starting to get bored of it and wished she would think of something new to hassle us about. Does that make sense?

I grasped Dougal and shook him at her, making growling noises.

Liz laughed when I did that and promptly joined in by shoving Sampson in her direction and barking like a dog.

We only growled and barked for a really short time, but it was enough for Hannah to get this really stunned look on her face. When we saw that, we both laughed and turned away from her. Liz and I linked our arms up again and kept walking away, still laughing. We didn't look back.

I realized that Hannah wasn't nearly as scary when you didn't take her seriously. I also realized that maybe some real life problems could be solved with the help of friends and some determination. Well how about that?

-------

Just outside the front entrance of the mall, we crossed the street at the pedestrian lights and walked up beside the street past a cafeteria and a donut shop. Standing at the edge of the pavement, waving at the passing traffic was Big Benny the Bear. As we got closer, a mother, with three little children in tow, came out of Benny's Family Restaurant. They were carrying party balloons and little Benny's gift bags and were all dressed up in fancy party clothes. It didn't take Einstein to figure out what was going on inside.

Benny got swamped with hugs from the kids until their mother dragged them away and off down the street. Benny waved goodbye and they waved back.

Liz turned to me. "Let's go get hugs from Big Benny."

She tried to drag me up the street but I resisted until she let me go and ran over to Benny. Soon Liz was getting a nice hug from Big Benny the Bear.

I walked up and stood nearby but just out of reach. Liz stepped back to let me have a go but I didn't move.

"Didn't your mommy ever tell you not to go around hugging strange bears in the middle of the street?"

"Don't be silly, it's Big Benny! Look! He wants a hug from you."

Sure enough, Benny had his arms spread wide but I stayed firmly where I was. After a second, Benny shrugged and dropped his arms. He turned away to wave at a little kid who had just come bouncing out of the restaurant. I'm quite sure the only reason he didn't bounce right up into the sky was because he was firmly anchored to his father by one hand. He shouted at Benny and waved and Benny waved back as the kid bounced up the street.

Big Benny turned back to the two of us and with a polite bow and a wave of his arm, he invited us to go into the restaurant. I put my hands on my hips and glared up at him.

"What? Do you think Mama raised an idiot? I'm not going to play Goldilocks and go into your house. Next thing I know, you'll be making me sit on all the chairs and eat all the porridge."

Big Benny put his hands on his hips and waggled his head back and forth. The cheeky bear was imitating me — in a totally exaggerated way of course. He was making it look like I was throwing a tantrum and I was doing nothing of the sort.

I forced myself not to grin by turning it into a pout and stamped my foot. He waggled his head a bit more and stamped his foot. I started trying to think of something really silly I could do to see if he would keep imitating me. In the end, the best I could come up with was to flex my knees, lift one arm up over my head and scratch under one arm like a monkey. Sure enough he went into a whole monkey routine, including scratching, loping around and even swinging around a nearby sign post.

Liz burst out laughing and that made me start laughing too — I just couldn't help it. It really was funny. Big Benny came loping back to us and repeated his bow and gesture to invite us into the restaurant. Liz pulled me on the arm and tried to drag me inside.

"Come on, you. We have an invitation from the bear, what more do you want?"

I did a little curtsey to respond to the bow from the bear — okay, curtseys don't work so well when you're wearing jeans — and followed Liz inside. Big Benny stayed outside to wave at the cars and say goodbye to the rest of the kids.

Inside we found an empty table and sat down side-by-side on the bench seat. The waitress who had been cleaning up the mess from the kid party immediately put down her cleaning stuff and came over to serve us.

"Can I help you?"

She was smiling but she looked a bit tired. It must be hard work being a waitress at a kid party.

I grinned at her. "Hi! We're the Goldilocks twins!"

"The bear outside invited us in," explained Liz.

"We're supposed to try out all the chairs and eat all the porridge." I added.

She glanced outside at Benny, then back at the two of us.

"Ah! I see. I'm afraid we're all out of porridge. How about I get you each one of our giant cookies and a drink?"

We quickly agreed to that and we both asked for iced tea. She smiled and bustled off to organize the snacks for us. It didn't take long and soon we each had a cookie the size of a plate in front of us as well as a glass of iced tea. The cookies were as delicious as always and we were both happy to munch on them and chat about the movie.

After a bit, Big Benny came inside and waved at us. I saw that all the kids had left and the mess had all been cleaned up and we were all alone in the restaurant except for the bear and our waitress who was giving all the tables another wipe down.

Benny disappeared into the back of the restaurant just as the front door was pushed open and two girls in the waitress uniform came inside. They wandered over to our waitress and chatted for a moment before heading out back. A moment later, an older man in a business suit came in. He looked around and saw us sitting there. He waved at us and gave us a cheery hello, then headed out back as well. I figured we were seeing the new shift arrive ready for the evening rush.

A moment later, Dan came out from the back wearing his restaurant suit. He was still shrugging the jacket on as he walked over to us and slid onto the bench opposite us.

"Hey girls!"

"Hi Dan," we chorused.

"How was the film?"

"Awesome!" "Great!" "Lot's of fun!" "It was soo funny!"

"Excellent!"

Our waitress walked past us on her way out of the restaurant. She called goodbye to all of us on the way past and we waved back.

I looked Dan up and down — well the top half of him anyway. His face was still a little flushed and his hair was all damp and slicked back from being inside the suit.

"I thought you were supposed to be duty manager today."

"I was."

"Then how come Big Benny was out there? How can you be manager and Big Benny at the same time?"

"It wasn't easy but somehow I coped. The party was a last minute thing. Apparently they got double booked down the road and they only found out this morning. I got the call and it was only me and Sandra and the chef. Fortunately they didn't want anything fancy, but they did want Benny. I had to do some quick changes so that I could help Sandra serve and have Benny show up at the right times."

"So are you finished now?"

"Yeah! Max is here now, so I can get out of here."

He slid off the bench and stood up.

"If you've finished your milk and cookies, we can go home."

"It was iced tea," I protested.

The glint in Dan's eye told me he'd known that all along but I'd fallen for his teasing.

Brothers!



-------

Chapter 32: Late Saturday Afternoon



Dad opened the front door for us and made a big show of peering around — looking for the two mystery boys we were supposed to have with us. When he saw no sign of them, he told me to go into the living room and sit down for a talk. It wasn't really a request and it was clear that the talk he had in mind wasn't necessarily going to be pleasant.

Liz came with me — she didn't have much choice because I had a firm grip on her hand — and we sat together on the couch. I was a bit unsure about what was about to happen. Dad might realize I was just teasing him and accept the joke or he might get angry in which case I would just have to sit and let him lecture me. I had thought it was funny at the time to mislead him but I'd started regretting it almost straight away.

My position on the couch put me right across the room from Mom's painting. She hung on the wall glaring down at me. I felt a long way away from the little girl shown in the picture sitting under Mom's protection and helping to hold Angie. The real Mom appeared in the doorway to the hallway and leant against the wall where she could watch proceedings. Dad had taken up a position in the center of the room and glared at me even more fiercely.

"You, young lady, had permission to go to the cinema with your friend Liz. You did not let us know in advance that you were going there with a couple of boys. Especially since we've never met, or heard of, the particular boys involved. If you had, there might have been a few more conditions placed on you going. I did not appreciate having you drop that piece of information into the conversation over the phone when it was too late to do anything about it.

"As for the boys involved, I must say they've just lost credibility with me. They have failed to do what I told you to ask them to do. I wanted them to show up here so I could meet them. If they were even half-way decent sorts of people, they would be here."

"But, Dad, they are here. This is Dougal," I held up Dougal so Dad could see him. " ... and that's Sampson." Liz took her cue from me and lifted up Sampson. "I never said they were boys, I just said their names."

"You ... what... ?" Dad spluttered, looking back and forth from Dougal to Sampson to me to Liz and so on.

"I told you we were going with Dougal and Sampson. You assumed they were boys."

"Aaargh!" Dad clutched at his head and garbled a few more words...

"I may have mentioned something about them being our dates for the afternoon." I put on my best little-girl voice. "I'm sorry if I upset you, Daddy."

He pointed a shaky finger at me — or maybe he was shaking his finger at me, I'm not sure — and said, "you, you..." before collapsing into his armchair and clutched his head again, this time muttering something about being too old for all of this. Then he just sat there holding his head and rocking back and forwards like a ... well, like a crazy person, I guess.

Liz leant over to me and whispered in my ear, "I think your dad is broken."

I nodded at her and looked back at him with concern.

Mom didn't seem too worried. She was still leaning against the wall with what used to be her stone face on. I say used to be, because she seemed to be trying to hide a grin and not succeeding very well. Dan had appeared in the doorway with Angie on his back. He was watching us all carefully. Angie was also watching us from her place on Dan's back with her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth.

Dad sat up a bit and looked at Mom. "Is it too late to send our girls back to where we got them from? I'm sure the packaging didn't warn us that they would turn into teenagers."

Mom shrugged. "I have a feeling that amongst all those papers we signed at the hospital that there was some clause about no-returns or trade-ins."

"Perhaps I should just kill them with a shovel and bury them in the bottom of the garden."

"Not near my studio you won't," Mom replied.

I leant back to Liz so I could whisper, "He's not too badly broken. He's making jokes."

"Those are jokes?" Liz whispered in reply. "He's talking about getting rid of you."

"Yeah! Sure! But he's talking about killing me with a shovel. Dad's an electrical engineer. If he really wanted to kill me, he'd probably connect my bedroom doorhandle up to some gizmo and electrocute me."

Liz stared at me and quietly shook her head.

Dad hadn't finished with his comments. "Maybe we could put them up for sale on e-bay."

"See? And I thought Dad was old fashioned." I was still whispering to Liz. "He can be all modern and stuff. Being sold on e-bay would be cool."

Mom had gone over to where Dad was sitting and pulled his head into her stomach. Dad proceeded to hold onto her and pretend to cry into her stomach while Mom stroked his head and said, "There, there, dear. It's only for another seven years. Then they won't be teenagers anymore. After that we get three years of peace before Angie gets to be a teenager."

That just caused a new batch of pretend sobbing from Dad.

"Your whole family is weird. You know that, don't you?"

"Sure I do. But that's why you like me. You like weird things."

"Very true!"

"The good news is that I'm not in trouble."

"How do you know for sure?"

"Dad's making jokes and fooling around. He's upset with me but not mad at me. If he were really mad, he wouldn't be making jokes about getting rid of me."

"That's absolutely right!" snapped Dad. Whoops, I must have said that louder than I meant to.

"I am upset with you. You let me think you were out with boys and I was worrying all afternoon about you."

"Dad, I was teasing you. You're always teasing me and I'm supposed to just laugh. But when I tease you it turns into a whole drama. I'm sorry you were worried, Dad, but get this. I'm becoming a teenager. Teenagers hang out with boys. It's like it's a rule or something. They go on dates, they kiss and they do all sorts of other stupid things. I fully intend to do all of that — well maybe I'll try not to do too much of the stupid stuff — but I'll probably do all the rest, so you better start getting used to it."

"Hah! I have a solution for that. I won't let you be a teenager. I'm cancelling your birthday ... and the next five after that. You'll just have to stay twelve until it's time for you to be twenty. It's too late for your sister, she's already turned into a teen but there's still time to save you." Dad's eyes were twinkling. He was enjoying this far too much for someone who was supposed to be upset.

"Oh, okay. That's fair! Tara gets to be a normal teenager, just because she got there first. But I have to stay twelve for six years and then suddenly become twen ... nineteen! If you make me skip six birthdays, my next one would be my nineteenth, not my twentieth."

Dad rolled his eyes at me and ignored my correction. "As for your sister, when I finish here I think I'll go nail her into her room. She can stay in there until she's twenty. What do you think, Louise?"

He looked at Mom and she looked thoughtful. "I suppose it would be alright. We'd have to cut a little hole in the door so we could push food in for her. Now the question is, what should we do with our little Bec for the next six or seven years."

They both turned and looked at me. I recognized my cue. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. I was just being silly and I got carried away."

Dad nodded and smiled at me with genuine warmth. "You know what to do when you want to go out with boys, don't you?" he asked in a gentle voice.

"Yes I do, Dad. I promise I'll do the right thing."

Dad sighed and looked at Liz, who had been sitting quietly through all of that. "So, how is our favorite daughter today? Did you have a good time at the movies?"

I glared at Dad. That was supposed to be Mom's joke to call Liz her favorite daughter but now he was doing it too. Dad completely ignored my glare and kept looking at Liz.

"Yeah, it was great!" Liz replied.

"Here's a piece of fatherly advice. When you get old enough to have kids, make sure they aren't smarter than you. It only causes headaches."

"Sure, Mr F. Make sure they aren't too smart. Gotcha! Good advice. Um ... how do you do that by the way?"

Mom sighed. "I tried dropping mine on their heads a few times when they were little. It doesn't seem to have worked though."

Liz grinned cheekily. "It might not have made them stupid, but it sure explains a few other things."

"Hey!" I exclaimed and pushed her away from me.

She rocked in her place on the couch and then pushed me back with a big grin on her face. That quickly degenerated into a tickle fight on the couch, accompanied by non-stop giggles.

Liz and I ended up lying together on the couch and holding each other in a loose hug. The tickling had stopped and the giggling was dying away. Suddenly I felt myself being lifted up high in the air (well, not really that high) and put down so that I was sitting properly on the couch. It was Dan, of course. Liz scrambled around until she was sitting upright just next to me.

Dan sat himself down on the coffee table (it's solid wood and could probably hold up a horse) and I realized he had a serious expression on his face. I looked around and saw that Mom and Dad had left the room. Angie was sitting on the floor playing some sort of game with Lucy (the doll).

"Dad might have forgiven you but I'm not sure that I have. You should be glad that I didn't know anything about this until we got home. I would have marched straight into that cinema and hauled you out of there."

I stared at Dan in surprise. Why was he angry with me? He was supposed to be on my side. I could feel my eyes getting suddenly damp.

"Had you forgotten why Tara is in trouble today? Had you forgotten what she was up to last night? Mom and Dad are still trying to deal with that and the very next day you decide to pull a stunt like this."

I was feeling as if the world had suddenly pulled itself away from underneath me and I was falling out of control. It had just been a little joke and now Dan was unloading all this on me.

"It's not the same," I managed to gasp. "I'm not like..." I stopped myself in time before I said I wasn't like Tara. That would have been a terrible thing to say — even if it were true. "I'm not like that."

Dan was staring straight at me and I felt incredibly uncomfortable. He knew what I'd been about to say. My nose started to feel runny and I knew I was going to have to sniff any second. Why was Dan being like this? I hated it.

"Maybe you're not, but how is everyone supposed to trust you if you lie to Dad about what you're doing?"

I sniffed and quickly used my hand to brush the water from my eyes.

"When you go out, when there are boys around, I might just drop by once in a while. Just to say hi! I want you to think about that. Anytime you are out with a boy. If I was to turn up just at that instant — and I might — would you be embarrassed for me to see what you were doing? If the answer would be yes, then you probably shouldn't be doing it."

Dan turned his gaze onto Liz. "And that goes for you too. You seem to have been adopted into my family so that makes you my sister too. Don't think I won't be able to find either of you." He tapped the side of his head. "I have a finely-tuned sixth sense for finding my little sisters — anytime, anywhere."

"Both of you are capable of standing up for yourselves, but I haven't forgotten how persistent some teenage boys can be. I'm not saying this to make your life miserable. I'm saying this because I love both of you. I want you to have fun, but I want you to be safe and I want to make sure there are limits on what you do."

Dan went quiet and looked carefully at us both. My eyes and nose were still leaking but it wasn't so much for the same reason anymore. I don't really know why I was still crying. I just was. Liz was staring at Dan like she was in a trance. She'd never experienced Dan in full big-brother mode before and since she doesn't have her own brother it must have been a totally unique experience for her. When Dan turns it on, he can be ... I don't know ... overwhelming.

"So! Do we have an understanding here?"

Liz and I both nodded together several times like those little bobbing dolls that go in the back of cars.

Dan stood up, then leant forward and kissed Liz on the cheek. Then he leant towards me to do the same to me, but I remembered in time and moved my head away. I mumbled "don't touch me," but it wasn't very loud and I'm not sure if he heard me.

Dan looked at me a bit strangely then turned and left the room. I picked up Dougal from where he was lying abandoned on the floor beside the couch and clutched him to my chest.

Inside my brain, I remembered back through the day and decided I'd done a good job of avoiding Dan today. I had even managed to stop myself from hugging him when he was in the Big Benny suit, though that had been very tempting.

Inside my head, a little version of me stood up in front of a crowd.

"Hi! My name is Bec and I'm a Danaholic."

"Hi Bec!" answered the crowd in a dull monotone.

"It's nearly two days since I've touched Dan..."

"Aaah!"

" ... and it hurts!"

-------

"BEC!"

I jumped and blinked the tears out of my eyes, looking around frantically. Liz was sitting beside me with her arm around my shoulders and there was a damp spot on her shoulder where my head had been resting. It wasn't Liz who had yelled though.

Tara stood in front of me with her hands on hips.

"What?" I snapped at her, still unsettled by her yelling at me.

"I said ... Dad wants us out the front. Come on."

I blinked up at Tara. She was wearing an old pair of loose-fitting beige cargo pants and an oversized olive-drab sweatshirt with "University of Life" in large, bright red lettering. The sweatshirt also looked a bit old, but I'd never seen any of that outfit before. It was so totally the opposite of what she normally wears.

"What are you wearing?"

Tara plucked at the sweatshirt. "Mom made me wear this. She said that since we have guests coming that I get to wear proper clothes instead of that bathrobe. She bought it all at a second-hand charity shop this afternoon. I found the receipt in the bag. This whole outfit cost her three dollars and fifty cents."

I ran my eye up and down. "You look fine. It's kind of trendy in that casual, laid-back sort of way. I wouldn't mind wearing that myself."

Tara rolled her eyes at me, but she didn't try to argue.

I stood up and hugged Tara. "Let's go out and see what Dad wants us for."

I kept my arm firmly wrapped around Tara's waist and she had hers around me. Since I had Dougal clutched into my side with the other arm, I didn't have a spare hand for Liz. I looked at her and gestured with my head and she seemed happy to trail along after us with Sampson dangling from one hand. Glued together, side-by-side, we walked out the front door and down the drive.

Dad had brought a big cardboard box out of the garage and set it down on the nature-strip beside the road. It was the box that the new oven had arrived in earlier in the year. The old one had gone up into the sky to live in that place where all the different types of cookers go when they die.

Pretty well straight after we'd bought the oven, Dan had cut one of the sides out of the box and Angie had spent many happy hours playing in it. Now the box sat with the open side up and Dad stood beside it with a big permanent marker writing something in large letters on a square of cardboard.

He saw us coming towards him and pointed at the box with a stern expression on his face. "In!"

We helped each other over the edge until all three of us were standing in the box. Dad then turned around the sign he'd been making and held it up so that we could read it. It said, "Free to a Good Home!"

Tara and I grinned. Liz looked doubtful for a moment but as soon as she realized that we were grinning she started giggling quietly. Dad carefully propped up the sign where it could be seen by the passing traffic.

"I figured this might work quicker than selling you on e-bay," said Dad with a perfectly straight face. "I have to go and collect tonight's dinner. If I'm lucky then some random stranger will have taken you home by the time I get back and there'll be more food for me."

"Sure, Dad, okay then," said Tara.

"Bye Dad," I said.

Dad started walking to his car and then stopped and turned back to face us. "Maybe you shouldn't go with just any random stranger who happens to stop, but if you get an offer too good to refuse..."

"Sure, Dad. Gotcha!" I waved at Dad and he got into his car and drove off.

The three of us carefully lowered ourselves down until we were sitting with our heads just above the edge of the box. That involved a lot of legs being tucked up and interlaced with each other. There wasn't a whole lot of room left in the box but it wasn't too uncomfortable.

I looked up and down the street from my position in the middle of the box. "This is cool. I wonder if we'll get any good offers."

"This is totally weird," countered Liz as she adjusted my foot so that it didn't dig into her thigh. "I can't believe your dad would do something like this, and I also can't believe you guys would just go along with it."

"Why not?" said Tara. "Dad isn't really serious and this is kind of fun."

We all watched as a passing car slowed down and a row of faces peered out of the car at us as it went past. The car then sped up and disappeared down the road.

"He looked pretty serious to me and hello ... we're sitting out beside the street in a box with a sign that says we're being given away for free."

"It's kind of like a game." I explained to Liz. "Dad just wants me to remember that I upset him."

"I think he sees it as a challenge to come up with a way of getting the message across that isn't going to harm us or anything," butted in Tara.

"Last time I upset Dad," I told Liz, "he drove me up to the railway station and made me sit there with a sign around my neck saying 'Please look after this bear!'"

"Huh?"

"He figured that since it worked for Paddington..."

"Who?"

"Paddington the Bear — it's an old English children's story. It starts with this family finding a bear at Paddington station with a letter saying 'Please look after this bear' attached to its jacket. They take him home and he has lots of adventures with them."

"And this was a punishment?"

"No, it was a lesson! Dad wanted me to know he was upset and he didn't think just telling me would get the message across."

"So what happened?"

"Well I got a couple of offers that I had to turn down, but eventually a policeman came. It turns out that it's against the law to abandon your kid at a railway station. I had to tell the policeman we were playing a game so that Dad didn't get into trouble."

"Where was your dad during all of this?"

"He was drinking coffee at the station cafeteria. He could see me from where he was sitting, just to make sure no one put me in a sack and carried me off or whatever."

"Your family is weird. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah! But it's a fun kind of weird — most of the time."

Tara looked at me suspiciously, "I know why Dad would want to give me away right now, but what did you do to him?"

That meant telling the story about Dougal and Sampson which I started but Liz pretty much took over. I was happy to let Liz do the talking and settled for interjecting with some animated comments from Dougal at different places in the story.

We were virtually finished the story when Dan came out of the house with a wriggling and giggling Angie tucked firmly under one arm.

"Have you got room for an extra? This little one decided that what you're doing looks like a whole lot of fun and she wants to join in."

We looked around and figured she'd pretty much end up crawling over the top of us as there was no space for her to sit other than in our laps. Fortunately Angie isn't that heavy. After a quick exchange of glances and shrugs we agreed to let her join us in the box.

After a bit of wriggling, Angie ended up mostly on my lap. There was a fair amount of giggling and squirming around so it wasn't always comfortable for me but it wasn't too bad.

We explained to Angie that we were playing at being puppies in a pet-shop window so that involved a fair amount of panting and hanging tongues and snuffling in each other's ears — especially when a car went past. Then we had a kind of crazy discussion about what we should be doing to increase our chances of being selected so a couple of times we were all cheerful and waving at the passing cars and a couple of times we tried to look as pathetic as possible with sucked in cheeks and moaning.

A few cars slowed down for a better look. There was a fair amount of giggling going on from all of us. It was terrific fun.

Finally one car stopped and a young couple got out. They said hello to us and asked us what was going on. We sucked our cheeks in and said we were starving and looking for a new home. They laughed and asked if they could take some photos. We said yes, of course, so they both got out their mobile phones and took photos of us in our box. We acted up a bit and posed for the photos, looking as pathetic as we could. Getting Angie to act like a little orphan waif was the funniest thing ever, and we were all in hysterics between the photo poses. The couple said sorry but they didn't have room for us in their apartment. They wished us luck and waved goodbye as they drove off. Awesome fun!

Then we heard a roaring sound coming up the street. It was Mr Davidson on his huge bike. He drove his bike up onto the nature-strip and parked it next to our box. Then he climbed off and packed away his helmet and gloves without saying a word. Finally, with a couple of beers hanging from one hand, he strolled around to the front to read the sign on the front of the box again.

We started pleading with him, calling out things like "Please mister, pick me" and "Take me, take me." I think Liz might have started it but all of us joined in pretty quickly. Even Angie got into the act by bouncing up and down on my lap and squealing "Me, me, I'm the cutestest of all. Pick me."

Mr Davidson laughed and agreed with Angie that she was definitely the cutest. "But," he said, pointing at Liz, "this one has caught me eye."

He leaned down and pulled Liz's mouth open. "Hmmm, good teeth." He squeezed her upper arm (gently), "good muscle tone." He opened up Liz's hands and examined them carefully, "Good worker's hands ... Can you clean house? Can you cook?"

Liz was biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. Then she put on a really earnest face. "Ooo yes, mister, I'm a real good cook — an I clean good too."

"Hmm. Sounds like I have to get you an edification. Book-larnin is important too."

"Aw shucks, mister. I spose if I hafta I cud do book-larnin."

"Fair enough," he nodded as if making some difficult decision. "I'll take this one."

"Yay!" called out Liz and clapped her hands. We all cheered for her too. She struggled to her feet — which wasn't easy given how totally we were jammed together inside the box — and held out her arms to her dad. He scooped her up and sat her on his hip like she was a child half her age. Liz happily wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head along his shoulder.

"I was just heading inside. Do you want to stay out here with your friends, or do you want to come inside with me?"

Liz looked doubtfully at me and I gestured inside. She smiled at me then told her dad that she would go in with him for a bit. Mr Davidson nodded and then shifted Liz around and slung her over one shoulder which caused Liz to squeal quite a bit.

Eventually the walking man-mountain made it inside with his squealing passenger, leaving Tara and Angie and me out in the box.

It was only just after the front door had closed behind Mr D. and Liz that one of our neighbors came walking down the street with her dog — a little Chihuahua — on a leash.

"Hi girls!"

"Hey, Mrs Pareetta!" we chorused.

"What are you all up to?"

I picked up the sign from the street side of the box and held it so she could read it.

"Dad's finally had enough of us. He figured he'd try and give us away."

"Oh! Really?" she started laughing. "Wish I'd thought of that. There were a few times when I would have gladly given away my two." Then she started telling us stories about her two boys and the things they got up to when they were youngsters.

Dad drove up and parked on the drive. He came over and said hi to Mrs Pareetta.

"I can't interest you in expanding your family by three girls can I?"

"Oh my goodness no!" She winked at us then turned back to Dad. "I'm way too old to start looking after more teenagers. My Trixie keeps me busy enough as it is."

She laughed and shuffled off down the road with her little Chihuahua trotting perkily after her.

"Ah well, it was worth a try. Tara, pass me Angie, then get out of there yourself. The two of you can help me carry dinner inside. Bec, I think you better stay there for a bit longer. Maybe a bit of alone time will help clear things up for you."

"Okay, Dad."

I waited until Dad had loaded Tara and Angie up with bags and disappeared inside and then I lowered myself down onto my back. There was just enough room for me to lie flat if I tucked my legs up tight. I lay there and watched the rectangle of darkening sky. Clouds were moving across my vision and it was interesting to watch them move into and out of the rectangle of sky that defined my world.

I heard a car drive up and park. Then footsteps approached my box and paused. Finally a head poked over the top, silhouetted by an especially dark cloud. It was Pearl.

"Hey Bec!"

"Hey!"

"The sign says you're free to a good home. Is that right?"

"Yup! I'm the last puppy in the litter. All the others got chosen. If no one picks me, I'll get shoved in a sack and drownded." I sniffled and pretended to cry.

"Sorry! No pets allowed at my flat. Can't help you." She grinned down at me.

"Damn!" I grinned back up at her, dropping the pathetic act immediately.

"So what are you really doing out here?"

"Officially, I upset Dad so I'm having some alone time out here to think about my sins."

"Aaah!"

"Unofficially, they're all inside setting up a surprise party for me so I'm out here to keep out of the way while they get ready. I'm not supposed to have figured that out of course, so don't say anything. You may as well go in. They must be just about ready. I'll just stay out here and think about my sins and practice my 'surprised' look!"

I then ran through a few silly 'surprised' faces which made Pearl laugh.

"Okay, Bec. See you inside then." Her head disappeared from my rectangular world and I lay still and watched the sky. I'd love to be able to say I saw the first stars come out, but there were only clouds.

It seemed like I was there for a long time, but it was probably only a few minutes.

Dad's face appeared as he leaned over the box.

"Is it time for me to come in?"

"Yes it is. Your dinner's ready. All is forgiven."

We swapped smiles then I held up both hands. Dad clasped them and pulled me to my feet. I put my hands on his shoulders and he grabbed my waist between his two big hands. I jumped and he lifted and I sailed elegantly out of the box and landed lightly on the grass. It was almost like we'd rehearsed it — only we hadn't — it looked and felt so smooth and dainty.

While Dad had his hands on my waist, I stepped forward and reached up on my tippy-toes to kiss his cheek. Then I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him with my head against his chest. I could feel Dad tense up like he always does and I could feel his hands shift on my waist as if they itched to push me away — but I ignored all that and squeezed him tight.

I let go and stepped back before he could get too uncomfortable. I looked straight into his eyes and grabbed both his big hands with my little ones so that he couldn't escape.

"Dad, I really do promise to do the right thing when I start going out with boys. I felt bad about what I said today as soon as I hung up, but I never got a chance to make it right."

He nodded at me and smiled. "All is forgiven."

I licked my lips then started the harder part of my speech. "I'm sorry that us turning into teenagers scares you so badly. It shouldn't, but I can see that it does. I'm trying to be good but I expect I'm going to screw it up sometimes. Tara's trying too but it's harder for her because of the way she is. Please don't ever get so scared that you try to get rid of us for real."

I felt like I had to be so careful. Dad spent so much time being cheerful and making jokes but hidden somewhere deep inside was a little core of sadness and fear. I didn't know why it was there or where it came from but I knew it was there. I expect Mom knew it was there. He hid it from Dan and from Tara and he tried to hide it from me, but sometimes I could see right through his eyes into the middle of his head. Inside was a little boy in short pants, sucking his thumb and staring out at the big wide world with a frightened expression on his face.

Dad's eyes were troubled and I knew it was the wrong time to push too hard. His hands jerked a bit in mine as if he was trying to get away, but my grip stopped him from moving — which just proves he wasn't really trying very hard. His desire not to hurt me by ripping his hands away was greater than his fear of me baring his unhappy soul.

"Daddy, I love you sooo much. Don't be afraid of me. I'm trying so hard not to hurt you."

Dad's eyes closed as he tried to free himself from my gaze. I darted forward and reached up to plant the softest possible kiss on the corner of his mouth. I was already standing back and looking up at him when his eyes flashed open in surprise at the sensation.

I softened my face and smiled at him as warmly and confidently as I could manage. "And don't be so afraid for me. I love it that you try so hard to protect me. But Dad, you can't guard me from everything. Things will happen. You just have to trust me to deal with them as best I can, the way you and Mom taught me."

I pulled myself in and hugged Dad again. This time I felt him force himself to relax and hug me back. It was quick but it was a real hug. I smiled quietly to myself.

I let go of Dad and turned back to the box. I had to lean in to pick up Dougal from where he lay on the bottom of the box. Then the two of us picked up the ends of the box and carried it up the drive and dropped it temporarily in front of the garage.

I took Dad's hand — which he didn't resist — and led him through the front door.

"If it ever takes your fancy though, I'd love to find out how much we'd get if you tried selling me on e-bay."

I grinned cheekily at Dad and he smiled back at me.

Inside the kitchen, they'd strung a 'Happy Birthday' banner across the room and there were balloons and streamers everywhere.

"SURPRISE!" everyone yelled.



-------

Chapter 33: Saturday Evening



We stood in a circle, shoulder to shoulder, and clasped the hands of those next to us. Dad calls this a family ritual. He says rituals are important. I suppose they are but some rituals are better than others and this one isn't my favorite. We don't do a family circle all the time, just on special occasions. They always remind me of the circles that sports people get into when they want to rev up the team. I always feel cheated at the end when we don't all put our hands into the middle and yell "Freeman" or something equally stupid.

I was standing between Dad and Liz. She had her dad on the other side of her. Across the circle from me, Pearl was standing between Dan and Tara and looking around curiously. I suppose when you go into someone else's house, you expect them to do things a bit differently. Pearl seemed like she was happy to join in with this, even though she had no clue what was going on. I figured that was a good thing. I decided that if I ever landed up in someone else's house and they started doing weird stuff that I would try to be like Pearl — just go along with whatever happened.

Angie was standing in the circle between Mom and Dan. It was the first time she was actually joining the circle properly as a child rather than as a baby. I mean, last time we did one, Mom had held Angie in her arms. I know it counts as being in the circle but I don't think that's the same as actually taking up a place in the circle. I smiled at Angie but she was too busy admiring her purple shoes to notice me.

Dad cleared his throat and all the shuffling and arranging died out as everyone looked at him.

"The main reason we are here is a birthday but before we get to that, we should welcome our guests. Dan, would you start."

"This is Pearl Wong. She's a friend of mine from college."

Pearl smiled and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "Hi everyone! Thanks for inviting me into your home!"

We all chorused hello and welcome to Pearl.

I know it sounds a bit strange for Dan to introduce Pearl to us when everyone had already met, but like I said — this is a family ritual and introducing and welcoming guests is a part of it.

Dad turned to look at Liz. "Liz we've done this a couple of times with you over the last few years and welcomed you as a guest each time. You're virtually a part of our family now and have been for some time so it seems a bit silly to keep describing you as a guest. But you have someone with you today. As a part of our family, maybe you would like to introduce your guest to us."

Liz threw a doubtful glance in my direction but then she nodded to Dad and turned to her head to smile at her own dad. "This is my father, George Davidson."

Mr D. grinned at everyone around the circle. "Heya folks! I'm glad to be here."

Everyone chorused hello and welcome.

We all looked at Mom because it was her turn to speak, "Welcome to our home, Pearl and George, and welcome to our hearts. May your visit with us bring you joy."

"Now," said Dad, "does anyone have anything they want to share with us?"

He looked at Dan again. Dan always gets to go first because he's the oldest. "Last night was the last game of the season. That means it might be the last game of college football for me. I say might be, because I'm applying to go to State for two years to finish off my degree — they have a scholarship for their engineering course that I have a chance at getting. If I get in, I'll try for a walk-on place in their football team. Who knows, I might get lucky."

There was a moment of silence after that. I don't think he'd talked to anyone recently about his plans after college so that was genuine news for everyone. I looked down at the floor. I could hear Mom and Dad both making happy comments. I had mixed feelings about it — I was happy for Dan that he had a chance to make a better future, but State University seemed so far away. Dan would have to move there; move out of home; move away from me.

"Anyway," continued Dan, "it was awesome to have Dad and Bec and Pearl and her friends there last night to support me..."

"And see you score a touchdown!" Dad butted in.

" ... and I got to score a touchdown," finished Dan.

I kept looking at the floor. I'd been kind of hoping that Dan would mention my touchdown and stuff so that I wouldn't have to say it. I sighed quietly to myself and looked at my feet. I lifted my toes up off the floor and rocked back onto my heels, then rolled forward again.

It was Tara's turn to speak. "I really just wanted to say how sorry I am that I messed up so badly last night." The misery in her voice went right through me like a spear. I looked up at her and I saw that she was truly regretting having gone to the party and done all that stuff — it wasn't just her being unhappy because she was being punished. I could see a tear making a trail down her cheek. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and hug her tight. She was stuck between Pearl and Mr D. Neither of them were family so neither could help her.

Mom seemed to realize that. She suddenly broke out of her position and walked across the circle. She wrapped her arms around Tara and squeezed. I could see Mom whispering in Tara's ear but I couldn't hear what she was saying. It didn't take long before Tara nodded and straightened up. Mom let her go and returned to her place in the circle.

As soon as she was back in place, Mom looked at me — then everyone looked at me. Did I mention how this isn't my favorite family ritual. This is the part I hate. This is the part where everyone looks at me and expects me to say something. Everything I could possibly say, they knew already — but they wanted me to say it again, just because! And that's hard for me to do. It's really stupid. This is my family, people that I love and people that love me. I have no problem sitting with them around a table and joining in with discussions. I have no problem talking to any one of them — making speeches to them even, like the speech I made to Dad. The thing I hate is them all looking at me and me making a speech in front of everyone.

I chewed on my bottom lip and looked around the circle. Everyone was staring at me and waiting. The people who knew how hard this was for me, which was pretty much everyone except for maybe Pearl and Mr D, had encouraging looks on their faces. I stared into space and tried to make everyone go out of focus — sometimes that helped.

"I really had fun last night at the football. It was really..."

At that point I stopped because I noticed that everyone was leaning towards me, trying to hear what I was saying. It was like a cartoon when the characters all lean on an angle because of the wind or whatever. It was pretty funny, except that it wasn't funny because it meant my voice wasn't working properly.

"It was really fun," I finished off lamely and looked down at my feet.

The next few minutes disappeared into a kind of foggy blur. Vaguely I was aware of Dad prompting Liz to contribute and her responding but I have no idea what she said. Then Mom and Dad each said something. Finally Dad started his speech about dinner. I know what he said, but it's more like I remember all the other times he's given that speech rather than because I listened to it this time.

"A long time ago, I forget when, I heard a story. I don't know which part of Asia it comes from. In fact I don't even know if it's true or not, but it's a great story so I've always remembered it. The story goes that there is a place somewhere in Asia where they describe hell as a place where a huge banquet is spread out. The sinners who deserve to be there are seated around the banquet but their hands have been replaced with long chopsticks. The chopsticks are so long that they can't bring the food up to their mouths. So the sinners sit around all that glorious food and they starve for eternity because they can't feed themselves."

"The story goes that heaven involves exactly the same situation. The people in heaven also sit around a wonderful banquet with chopsticks so long that they can't feed themselves. The difference is that those people use their chopsticks to feed each other. They rely on each other to feed them the delicacies set out in front of them. Everyone is well fed and happy."

"We are going to have our own little slice of heaven right here, right now. The simple rule, the only rule, is that you can't feed yourself. Does anyone have a cold or anything like that? No? Well then, let's get started."

It's good that nobody had a cold because what we were about to do isn't very hygienic. As Mom once said, living together as a family, you tend to end up catching colds and things from each other anyway so this just hurries up the process a bit.

Mom and Tara got the food out of the oven where it had been keeping hot and set it out on the table which had been pushed against one wall. Dan got Pearl to help him walk around and hand out little plastic disposable bibs — it can get a bit messy. Each of us got a bowl of some different type of food and a pair of chopsticks. Dougal, Sampson and Lucy had been lined up at the back of the table and the banquet was spread around them like they were the lords and the lady of the feast.

I'd dug myself into a pretty deep hole during the family circle and if this had just been a normal meal I might have fled to my bedroom and hid for a while before I was ready to face the world again. The thing was that this wasn't a normal meal — it was like the most fun you could have with food. A part of me didn't want to miss out on that and that part of me pushed and dragged the rest of me until I was out of the hole and standing in the kitchen with the rest of my family. Okay, my voice hadn't come back, but the rest of me was there.

I discovered a bowl of Kung Pao Chicken in my hands. It was fairly mild but still too spicy for Angie. To help Liz understand how the system works I went to her first. Carefully I hooked up a piece of chicken and fed it to her, straight into her mouth. She licked her lips and chewed on it. Then I gestured to her and she fished out a sliver of meat from her bowl and tried to feed me with it but she didn't have a good grip and it dropped — fortunately Liz was quick enough to catch it in the bowl. She tried again with her tongue poked firmly out the side of her mouth. This time she successfully transferred the meat from the bowl to my mouth. It was teriyaki beef and it was delicious.

We exchanged smiles and Liz told me that now she understood what was going on and that it was going to be fun. Then we fed each other a bit of vegetable, trying to both do it at the same time which was a bit of a challenge. We succeeded, but only just and then we each turned away to find someone else. Liz turned to her father who'd been watching us to figure out what he was supposed to do. I went to Mom because she had the sweet and sour shrimp which is my all-time favorite Chinese food and I didn't want to miss out.

So that's basically what happened. The aim is to end up having tasted a bit of everything, which also means you've spent a bit of time with everyone. There was an enormous amount of laughing and talking (except from me) and quite a bit of mess ended up on the plastic bibs or on the floor but we had wet cloths ready for that.

Angie was using a fork rather than chopsticks, but in every other way she joined in with the rest of us. She had great fun guiding forks full of special fried rice into everyone's mouth and was giggling almost constantly. I guess that we'd all fed her that way at one time or another and this was her chance for revenge. Since she couldn't eat the Kung Pao, I fed her some fried rice instead.

Mr D. was also having hysterics. He'd ended up with noodles and he'd figured out that the best way to feed someone noodles was to dangle a long string above a persons head and have them tilt their head back so he could lower the noodle into their mouth. The problem was he then started to tease people and move the noodles further and further back to see how far he could get them to lean over backwards. I think he met his match with Pearl though, with her gymnastics background she just folded herself over backwards and sucked up the noodle without a murmur — but she was grinning an awful lot.

It was nice — no, it was more than nice ... It was wonderful, spending a few moments with each person in my family and with the others. It was really special having a chance to put food into their mouths and seeing the different way each person took and enjoyed the food. It's an awesome feeling to have each person select something from their bowl and feed it to me. Sharing food like that is an amazingly special thing to do. It left me feeling closer to everyone as a person — as if by simply feeding each other we had strengthened the bonds that connected us.

Eventually everyone got to the stage where they'd had enough to eat. I ended up with a huge smile on my face. Like I said, it's just about the most fun you can possibly have with food.

Somehow Liz and I got volunteered to scrape out all the bowls and stuff while Tara went around taking the disposable bibs off people and doing the disposing. Mom took the lid off her big steamer that had been sitting on the stove and used the tongs to distribute hot towels to everyone. Washing faces is an absolutely essential way of finishing that little family tradition and the hot, damp face-washers feel glorious.

-------

Dan looked at his watch and said we should get a move on if we were going to spend time at the carnival. The weather forecast had been for rain overnight so jackets seemed sensible. Liz and I retreated to my room to pick up our jackets.

Liz picked up a book that was sitting on my bedside table. "Parenting Teens 101," she read. "What the heck are you reading this for?"

I shrugged. "I went to the school library. I wanted to read about how to be a teenager but all those books were out on loan already. I found this among my parents' books. It's pretty interesting. Somehow, I don't think either of The Parents have read it."

"Trust you to try figuring out how to be a teenager by reading a parenting book. Is this where all that stuff came from that you said to your father this afternoon?"

"Yeah, sort of!"

I took the book out of her hand and replaced it with her jacket. I put the book back down, picked up my own jacket and we were ready to go out.

Mom and Tara were bathing Angie so we poked our heads into the bathroom and said our goodbyes.

Our two dads had settled into the living room and opened beers. They both looked like they were content to sit there and drink beer and yarn for the evening. A moment of plotting and giggling in the doorway led to Liz marching up to my dad and sitting on his lap while at the same time I went over to her dad and plopped myself down in his lap.

Mr D. looked at me a little bit surprised. He was more surprised when I leant forward and kissed him softly on the mouth and said, "Bye, Daddy. I pwomise to be good."

I heard giggles from the other side of the room as Liz said more or less the same thing to my dad.

I poked Mr D. in his broad chest. "Don't drink too much beer or you won't be able to ride home."

I hugged him again. "I wuv you, Daddy!"

He pushed me away with a big grin on his face. "Get out of here, you. Have a good time at the carnival. And tell that faithless sister of yours — you know, the one who used to be my daughter but seems to have abandoned me — tell her to have a good time too."

I laughed and climbed off his lap.

"Wait!" called my dad and pulled a handful of bills out of his shirt pocket and waved them at me. "This might come in useful."

Without speaking, Mr D. reached into his jeans and for some money and held it out for Liz. We exchanged glances and Liz took the money from my Dad while I took the money from Mr D.

"Thanks, Daddy!" we chorused in unison. Then we joined hands and skipped out of the room. Later we compared the haul and found that each dad had handed over exactly the same amount of cash. We suspected a conspiracy — dads can plot and scheme too you know!

Outside Liz leaned against Dan's car and settled herself to wait for Dan. I wandered over to where Mr D. had parked his bike. It sat there on the nature strip like the statue of some huge, hulking monster just waiting for a wizard to wave his wand and make it spring to life. I ran my hands over the painted letters on its side.

"Hey, do you remember when I first saw your dad's bike? I said I thought it was cool how your dad had his name painted on the side."

Liz laughed. "Yeah! That was pretty dumb."

"Well, how was I to know your dad's first name isn't Harley?"

-------

In the car, Pearl and Liz spent the first few minutes raving to each other about our little slice of heaven. They both quickly agreed that it was intense and they'd love to do it again. Then Pearl wanted to play some more Car Monopoly. That meant we had to explain it to Liz. Then we had to allocate her a piece which ended up being the wheelbarrow. So we played Monopoly. I was in charge of keeping track of the board of course, but that was fairly easy. It was huge fun and we all laughed a lot. Paying for things turned into just about anything crazy you could do in the car. Well mostly in the car.

One time when Liz landed on Marylebone Station, we were stopped at the traffic lights, so she jumped out of the car and did a crazy dance in the street outside the car until the traffic lights changed and she had to get back in the car again.

Oh, and one time Dan landed on Fleet Street but Pearl already owned that so he had to pay rent. Dan pulled into a 7-eleven store, ran inside and bought her a bunch of flowers. It was kind of sweet, but mostly it was really funny.

There was lots of other stuff too. The worst thing I had to do was when I landed on Chance. Somehow during the change from Monopoly on a board to Monopoly in a car, Chance has turned into Dare. It seems like that anyway. Pearl told Dan to stop near a bus stop. There was a really old guy sitting at the bus stop. He looked a bit lonely and sad. Pearl gave me a flower from her bunch of flowers and said I should go give him the flower and cheer him up. That was pretty hard for me to do because he was a total stranger.

I ran over and stopped in front of him. He looked up at me and I held out the flower. I wanted to make some big speech about how he should cheer up and stuff, but in the end all I said was, "This is for you!"

He took the flower and smiled at me. He looked so surprised and so happy that I felt all warm inside. I smiled back at him and said, "Have a nice day!" like I was a shop worker or something.

Then I turned and fled back to the car. I think he shouted thank you or something at me as I ran away. Okay, so maybe it wasn't that terrible a thing to have to do but I sure felt nervous getting out of the car and going up to him. Now I'll have to think up something to get Pearl to do if she lands on Chance.

We seemed to get to the Carnival pretty quickly in the end — probably because we were all having so much fun. I wondered how long we would have to play to finish the game. Then I figured out that since we weren't using money as such, nobody could ever go broke so in fact the game can't ever really finish.

-------

The Carnival was heaps of fun too. There were rides and games and food stalls and craft stalls and exhibitions put on by local groups. When we first arrived there was a demonstration of Irish Dancing on a little stage. I always thought it was pretty skillful to make your feet move like that so we stood and watched that until the Irish Dancing segment finished.

The four of us went on all the rides. Some of them were lame but some of them were really good. There was one ride that was like a giant chainsaw — you sat inside cages that were like the teeth of the chainsaw and then you got spun about and flung around all over the place while they used the chainsaw to cut a giant hole in the sky — that's what Liz and I decided they were doing anyway. It was just as well that we didn't go on that one until a long time after dinner.

Dan seemed to raid the food stalls in between just about every ride — none of the rest of us was hungry. I told Pearl not to worry about it because that was pretty normal for Dan. She told me that she had two brothers so had some idea what to expect but neither of them was nearly as big as Dan and neither of them ate nearly as much as he did.

We all played one of those ball throwing games. Dan won big-time of course, so he picked a big stuffed elephant that he immediately gave to Pearl. I won too, much to my surprise, but not one of the big prizes. I chose a little stuffed kitten which I gave to Liz to add to her collection. She was thrilled.

There was a Ferris Wheel so of course we had to go on that. Each section was a seat for two people so Liz and I went on first and Pearl and Dan were on the seat directly behind us. Pearl had to carry that big elephant on her lap, but she didn't seem to mind. Liz and I cuddled together and watched the lights and bustle of the Carnival as it swung under us. Going around the circle put us behind the seat with Dan and Pearl in it for a while. We could see that they were sitting and chatting.

"Look at those two," muttered Liz. "Do you think they've forgotten they're on a Ferris Wheel? You're supposed to make out with your date on here — it's like tradition or something. Maybe we should yell out to them and remind them."

"Leave them alone. It's nice that Dan and Pearl are talking like that. I think it's sweet. Anyway I think I've pushed Dan and Pearl together pretty hard already. If we push anymore, Dan might just get cross with us instead of doing what we want."

"Okay then," agreed Liz grumpily. "It's just that I think I like Pearl. She's terrific. It would be cool to see those two making out." Liz sat and stroked her kitten.

"She is terrific, I agree. Anyway, it's not that much of a tradition. Look at us — we aren't making out."

"We could," said Liz and leaned over to kiss me on the mouth. We kissed for maybe ten seconds and then she sat back. It had been pleasant but the thrills that had shot through me when I kissed Lance were missing. I looked at her and she looked at me.

"That was nice," I said after a moment.

"That was really nice," agreed Liz. Then she looked worried. "Do you think that Hannah Fargo is right? Do you think that maybe we are lesbians?"

I laughed and then cut myself off. "Hannah Fargo wouldn't know a lesbian if she tripped over one. I don't think I'm a lesbian, I liked kissing Lance too much."

"Oh!" she sounded a bit confused. "I've kissed a couple of the boys in Dad's group — I told you about them didn't I?"

"Yeah! You told me. Did you like kissing them?"

"It was nice ... but there wasn't any ... fireworks! There should be fireworks. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah! I think I do." I thought for a moment. "What about with me? Were there fireworks for you when you kissed me?"

"Not really," she sighed. "It was nice though. It was different from kissing the boys — I don't know — softer or something."

Liz looked over her shoulder then elbowed me. "Look! Now they're kissing."

Dan and Pearl were behind us and below us at that point so we both turned in the seat and watched. It made me feel good to see them like that. I sighed quietly to myself. After a moment, we saw that they were stopping so we quickly whipped around to face forwards before they could catch us staring.

I cuddled up to Liz. "Dan looks happy," I whispered quietly. "Don't you think Dan looks happy?"

"Sure he looks happy. What is it with you anyway? All day, whenever he's come close to you, it's like you shy away from him. But other times when you don't think anyone is watching you, you've been looking at him with big puppy dog eyes. Did he do something? Are you pissed with him about something?"

I sighed and started telling her about how I'd overheard Mom telling Dan that he would have to move out of home if I didn't stay away from him. It took a while to tell because our ride on the Ferris Wheel finished and then I had to tell the rest in bits and pieces when Dan was far enough away so he couldn't hear me. When I finished, Liz looked at me a bit strangely as if she thought I was getting it all wrong but she didn't say anything.

Way too quickly the rides and the stalls started closing down. We joined the crowd as it made its way to the open area that had been set aside for the fireworks. Dan found us a good place to stand on a bit of sloping bank. Liz and I huddled together a bit because it was getting cold. Pearl and Dan were doing the same thing right next to us.

The fireworks were good. It wasn't one of those huge displays that really big festivals put on or whatever but it was still good. Right in the middle, acting on some sort of sudden crazy impulse, I leaned in to Liz and kissed her right on the mouth. Then I looked her straight in the eye and said, "See? There's your fireworks!"

She smiled and hugged me tight. I don't know how I suddenly got brave enough to do that in the middle of a crowd. I suppose it was because we were a long way from home and from school so nobody here knew either of us. Also everyone was watching the fireworks and not us. It was like we were completely anonymous and we could do anything we wanted and nobody would know, nobody would care.

The fireworks finished with a gigantic bang and a shower of sparks. Everyone clapped and then we headed for the car park. We'd just found Dan's car when the first big drops of rain started falling. Quickly we climbed into the car and shut the door. By the time Dan had the engine started, the rain was pelting down. How was that for timing?

We had to wait for a while to get out of the parking area — everyone was trying to leave at once. While we were waiting, I leaned forward and hugged Pearl from the back. "Did you have a good time tonight?"

She gripped my arms where they crossed her chest. "Yes! I did. Thanks for inviting me."

I kissed her on the cheek and sat back. Liz then leaned forward and thanked Dan for bringing her. She kissed him on the cheek and I called out to add my thanks to hers. Then Liz kissed Pearl on the cheek and said it was nice to have met her and Pearl said the same thing back. Then Pearl leaned over and kissed Dan and thanked him for the lovely date. It was a total orgy of thanking and kissing.

Eventually we got out through the gate and away down the street towards home. Liz tipped over sideways, cuddled her kitten to her chest and put her head down on my lap.

"Are you tired?" I asked and felt her nod in reply. I draped one arm over her shoulders and used the other hand to gently run my fingers through her hair — enjoying the feeling of her silky hair running under my fingertips. I was thinking that there really had been fireworks the second time I'd kissed Liz. Not big bangs and flashes type fireworks, but little people running around in my head with sparklers type fireworks. I promised myself that I would tell Liz about that later when we were in bed and there were no big brothers within hearing distance.

Pearl and Dan weren't talking much either and after a moment Dan put the radio on and turned it up a bit to compete with the rain drumming on the roof.

-------

Pearl wanted to jump straight into her car and head home, so Dan stayed outside to say goodbye to her while Liz and I headed inside. We let ourselves in through the front door and walked into the living room at which point we both stopped rather suddenly.

Mom and Dad and Mr D. were sitting on the floor around the coffee table. Each of them was holding either Dougal or Sampson or Lucy, who they had sitting on the table. Each of them had a really, really guilty expression on their face. Oh! And there were empty beer bottles everywhere.

"'Ooops!' said Dougal," said Dad, moving the dog Sampson around on the table.

"'Busted!' said Zeberdee," said Mr D. and then he went boinnnng and bounced the bear, Dougal, up high off the table and down again.

Then both the dads started doing that "teeheehee" sort of laughing that Dad once assured me with a perfectly straight face wasn't the same as giggling because men don't giggle (according to him).

"'Shhhh, ' said Florence," said Mom, wiggling Lucy to make her talk and facing her back and forth between the dog and the bear.

"The kids are home," continued Mom in a whisper — still making it seem like it was Lucy who was talking. "If we're really quiet, maybe they won't disturb us and they'll go straight to bed."

Teeheehee went both the dads, sounding an awful lot like a pair of twelve year old girls — except for the fact that they weren't actually giggling (according to dad's idea of what is and isn't giggling).

"Said Florence," added Mom as if she'd suddenly remembered she was supposed to.

"'Go to bed, ' said Dougal," said Dad, pointing the dog at us.

"'Go to bed, ' said Zerberdee," said Mr D. and then he went boinnnng again.

"You're all drunk," I announced with a disgusted tone. I was actually laughing inside because they were being pretty funny, but I wasn't going to let them know that.

"What are you doing, anyway?" asked Liz. "And you've got it all wrong. The bear is called Dougal and the dog is Sampson."

"And Mom, you know perfectly well that her name is Lucy and not Flora."

"Florence," interrupted Mom.

"Whatever."

Dad was waggling his finger side to side in an exaggerated "No, you're wrong" sort of gesture.

"No! No! No! Dougal is a dog with long shaggy hair. Everyone knows that."

"Huh?" Liz and I were looking puzzled. Apparently when Dad said everyone, he meant himself.

"The Magic Roundabout was a children's show, way, way back in the dark ages, before there was Sesame Street..."

"Before there was Barney," added Mom.

"Before there was television," added Mr D.

" ... and there was a shaggy dog called Dougal, and a little girl called Florence and a snail called Brian..." explained Dad.

" ... and a rabbit called Dylan and a cow called Ermintrude," continued Mom.

"Ermintrude! That's right I'd forgotten the cow," said Dad and started teeheehee-ing.

"I never saw the show," added Mr D. "but apparently Zerberdee was a jack-in-the-box and he always went boinnnng." The poor bear bounced up and down again.

"Anyway they were all stuffed..."

Teeheehee went Mr D.

" ... stuffed animals," continued Dad, "and they had adventures in a park near a magic roundabout."

"Hence the name of the show was The Magic Roundabout," concluded Mom.

"'Now, go to bed, ' said Dougal," said Dad.

"'And let us get back to exploring deepest, darkest America' said Florence," said Mom.

I pointed an accusing finger at Mr. D. "Daddy D. I told you not to drink too much and you went ahead and did."

"And you! Daddy F." added Liz, having quickly picked up on my new naming system as soon as I invented it. "You weren't being a very good host to let Daddy D. drink too much!"

I put my hands on my hips and put on a stern expression. "Now Daddy D. will have to stay here and sleep on the couch instead of riding home."

I turned to Liz. "You confiscate Daddy D.'s keys and I'll go and get pillows and blankets."

I realized just then that I had just said exactly what Mom would have said, exactly how she would have said it. Oh God! I'm turning into my mother!

I was at the linen closet in the hallway when Mom came up to me pushing Liz in front of her.

"I don't know if that was deliberate or not, but you just did a really cruel impersonation of me. It was very disheartening," said Mom with a little downward curl in her mouth, but her eyes were sparkling with humor.

I looked closely at Mom. "You aren't really drunk at all. Were you just pretending?"

"I wasn't so much pretending as going with the flow. I had a couple of drinks, so I'm not completely sober. Sometimes being drunk is a state of mind as much as anything. The three of us were just being a bit silly. Adults spend way too much time being serious. It's healthy for us to do silly things sometimes."

I looked at Mom thoughtfully.

She took the armful of blankets and pillows from me. "I'll do this later. Liz, would you be a sweetheart and put your father's keys on the board in the kitchen? That way we'll know where they are in the morning."

Mom turned and headed back to the living room and then she stopped and turned back to us. "Don't stay up too late. You have a big day tomorrow and you'll have to get up early to go to the Police Station."

"Huh?" we asked in unison.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea to protect other girls from that man you saw at the bus stop?"

I nodded. "I guess!"

Mom smiled at us and went back to the living room with her armful of blankets.

I turned to Liz. "How does hot chocolate sound?"

In the kitchen, Liz hung her dad's keys on one of the spare key-hooks while I put the kettle on.

Hearing us move around in the kitchen, my dad called out for us to bring in another couple of beers.

I pulled two more bottles of beer from the fridge and handed one to Liz. Together we went back into the living room.

Sampson and Dougal and Lucy were lying abandoned on the coffee table. I felt bad about having ruined their game.

I gave a bottle to Daddy D. with a smile and a friendly comment while Liz gave the bottle she was carrying to Daddy F. I turned to Mom, "Do you want anything? I just put the kettle on to make some hot chocolate."

Mom smiled warmly at me. "Some coffee would be lovely. Just instant would be fine."

I set out the chocolate powder and the coffee tin on the kitchen table while Liz lined up three mugs.

"Can you pour it out when the kettle boils? I want to borrow a couple of things from Angie's room."

Angie was fast asleep, of course. I blew her a kiss and chuckled quietly to myself. I was thinking that I could have played a trumpet in there and not woken her up but I was being extra quiet anyway. I quickly found what I was looking for and headed back to the kitchen.

"Your mom takes milk but no sugar, is that right?"

I nodded and Liz poured and stirred.

I showed Liz the two things I'd fetched from Angie's room. Her eyes went wide for a second as she understood my plan, then she grinned and nodded at me. I handed her one and tucked the other under my top.

I picked up my hot chocolate and Mom's coffee and waited while Liz picked up her chocolate and hid her other hand behind her back.

Together we walked into the living room and found a spot where we could sit and wedge ourselves in around the coffee table. I put Mom's coffee down on the table in front of her and sat my chocolate in front of me. The three adults were looking at us curiously, obviously surprised that we were joining them instead of going off to bed like they had hinted.

I reached under my top and pulled out the rabbit I'd borrowed from Angie. Sitting it on the table, I wiggled it around. "'Hello Dougal, ' said Dylan."

Liz produced the cow from behind her back. "'Hello Florence, ' said ... um"

"Ermintrude," supplied Mom with a grin and a twinkle in her eye.

"'Hello Florence, ' said Ermintrude."

"'Fancy meeting you here in deepest, darkest America, ' said Dylan."

I looked at Dad, challenging him to pick up the game again.

Dad laughed and reached for Sampson — I mean Dougal — I mean the dog.

"Boinnnng!" said Zeberdee.



-------

Chapter 34: Sunday Morning



Inside the police station, the officers quickly split us up so they could talk to Liz and me separately. I sat in a small room with a lady policewoman who was little and probably older than Nana. She asked me all these questions about what happened at the bus stop. It felt weird talking about a man pulling out his penis to this little old lady — even though she was in a police uniform.

After a time, she said I had to go and look at a line-up to see if I could identify the man who did it. I went into one of those rooms like you see on TV police shows with a big thing of glass on one wall. I just knew that on the other side, the glass was a mirror. Through the glass I could see a row of six men, but I couldn't see their faces — they were holding big cards up in front of their faces with numbers from one to six.

The old lady policewoman spoke into a little microphone and all the men used one hand to undo their pants and push them to the floor. Soon I could see a row of six penises dangling in front of me. The policewoman turned to me and asked if I recognized any of the penises as the one which I saw at the bus stop. I looked carefully at each one in turn but in the end I shook my head and told the lady that it wasn't one of them.

She told me not to worry and led me into another room. In that room was a computer sitting on a table. She tapped the screen of the computer and said this was a penis identification program. Inside this, she said, were the pictures of the penises of every adult male in the state.

I felt like telling her that she was pointing at the screen and inside there were just the workings for the screen. The pictures would really be on the hard drive which would be in the box underneath the screen. Unless it was on a network in which case the hard drive with the pictures would be somewhere else entirely. I decided not to tell her that because she might have thought I was being rude.

So she sat down in front of the computer and started asking me questions like how long it was and how wide it was and so on. She would use one finger to type in the numbers when I told her each answer. This went on for a while with lots of different questions.

Then I noticed that the screen was completely blank.

"Oh dear!" said the police lady. "I must have forgotten to turn the computer on. I suppose now we'll have to do it all over again."

"Now you're just being silly," I said and decided to wake up.

-------

I opened my eyes and peered out into the gloom of my room. It was pretty dark so I couldn't see much. I was wedged into a tiny space on my bed between Liz and the wall. This had been my solution to Liz pushing me out of the bed. I'd simply put myself on the other side of her so that she couldn't push me out so easily — gee it's handy to be so smart! Of course the result was — Liz lying sprawled all over the bed and me pushed up hard against the wall. Oh well, at least I wasn't going to fall out anytime soon — yay!

I felt sorry for the guy who ended up married to Liz. He would have to put up with this every night. Or it could be a her if that was way the cookie crumbled. Either way was fine with me, she would always be my best friend forever. Then I stopped feeling sorry for him — or her — because Liz was such a nice person that whoever it turned out to be would be lucky to be with Liz. And I was pretty sure they would work out the bed problem quickly — and it would probably help being in a bigger bed like married people have.

Liz moved around a bit and rolled onto her side with her back to me. Almost immediately she went back into that steady breathing that meant she was sleeping. I slid a bit closer to her so that I was away from the wall and spooned myself up behind her. I tucked my head in behind hers so that I could breathe in the soft, sweet smell of her hair and wrapped an arm around her. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax into the warmth and comfort of being in bed wrapped around one of my most favorite people.

My hand was resting against a small furry lump. I shifted my hand against it and realized that it was Sabrina the Kitten. I felt a little smile spread across my face as I remembered Liz announcing last night that the kitten's name was Sabrina. I asked her why and she said because she didn't have any other animals called Sabrina. It was hard to argue with that — not that I wanted to or anything. Sabrina is a nice name.

-------

Sabrina had made an appearance in the Magic Roundabout last night. Dan had come in and the dads had offered him a beer, which meant that they each had to have another one to keep him company. Of course, since Dan was the one standing up, he had to be the one to fetch the beer from the fridge. I had a theory that the only reason they offered Dan a beer in the first place was so that they would have an excuse to drink some more — and so that he would fetch it for them — but I didn't say that out loud.

So anyway, that meant that Dan had to join in the game, but we had run out of animals so Sabrina had made an appearance. And since Mom and Dad couldn't remember any kittens in the original program, Sabrina got to be Sabrina.

The game had been hysterical. It was a bunch of adults (and two teens) playing a game — or telling a story or whatever it was we were doing — with talking animals. If there was a plot, then it was about exploring deepest, darkest America (which included such wildernesses as New York City and San Francisco and Disneyland and Yellowstone National Park) and continually coming across this magic roundabout in the middle of the strangest places. It was all very silly.

Mom had to explain to Liz that a roundabout was another name for a carousel. She'd been confused because she was thinking we were talking about a magic traffic circle and she couldn't understand why the animals didn't get run over — and why it wasn't strange to come across one on the second floor of Macy's. Liz's dad had laughed and told her not to be embarrassed because he had thought the same thing.

There had been quite a bit of fairly childish humor, like Dougal having to stop for a poop every five minutes and Florence getting an attack of the burps. That had Liz and me in hysterics.

There had also been a bit of fairly ... adult ... humor. That had started when Mr D. had pointed a nearly empty beer bottle at Dan, who'd been tossing Sabrina up in the air and catching her, and said, "Young man, will you stop playing with my daughter's pussy!"

That had caused a fair amount of laughter, except from Liz who had squealed and hit her dad several times until he surrendered and apologized.

After laughing with everyone else, Mom had waggled her finger at Mr D. "Penalty for unnecessary crudeness. Put a penny in the jar."

Mr D. had patted his pockets and then said, "I don't think I have any pennies."

"That's okay," replied Mom, "I don't have any jars."

Mom continued to periodically hand out one penny penalties for all sorts of offenses, either real or made up. I got a one penny penalty for excessive pouting which I thought was tremendously unfair because I hadn't been, but then Mom pointed at me and said, "See? Excessive pouting! I just awarded the penalty in advance." Everyone laughed — including me — it wasn't very fair but it was funny.

Dan got a one penny penalty for being boring when he couldn't think of a creative way to rescue Dougal and Zeberdee from the clutches of a crazed purple dinosaur. Bryan and Florence ended up confusing it by singing silly purple dinosaur songs — sometimes it's handy having a three year old in the house — you learn the most useful things.

I didn't notice exactly when Ermintrude the Cow dropped out of the game. The first time I realized she had gone quiet was when I felt Liz's head drop into my lap. Liz was curled up on the floor, hugging the cow and fast asleep. I looked down at Liz and decided I was feeling sleepy too.

"It's time for Ermintrude and me to go to bed," said Dylan.

"Goodnight Dylan," said Dougal.

"Goodnight Dylan," said Florence.

"Boinnnng," said Zerbedee.

I shook Liz on the shoulder, "Hey, come on. It's time to go to bed."

Mr D. poked her in the thigh — which was the part of her closest to him. "Go on, kiddo, bed time."

Liz stirred and blinked up at me with bleary eyes.

"We're going to bed. You have to stand up."

I stood and helped Liz up. She was clutching the cow to her chest and looked a bit out of it. Everyone said goodnight and we went to my room. Getting ready for bed consisted of stripping off down to our panties — anything else seemed too complicated. It took remarkably little time for the two of us to be lying side-by-side in bed with Ermintrude and Dylan tucked in beside us. Liz was fast asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

-------

Probably less than an hour after going to bed, I'd opened my eyes to see the door open and Mom moving silently beside the bed. She was putting something on the bedside table.

"Hey!" I whispered.

"Oh! Hi sweetie! I thought you two were fast asleep." The whisper came back to me out of the shadow that was Mom.

"Not quite. Liz is out like a light." At some stage, Liz had flipped over and was lying half on top of me with her head tucked under my chin, a bent leg draped over mine and an elbow resting on my stomach with the upper arm extending up my chest to just under her chin. I still lay on my back so I could look up at Mom without shifting — which was good because I wasn't sure that I could.

Mom sat gently on the edge of the bed, careful not to move the bed too much and rouse Liz.

"I just wanted to take a last look at my little girl before she turned into a teenager." She leaned over the bed to kiss my forehead. "And I brought Sabrina in for Liz."

"Don't tell me! Dan didn't want to be accused of taking Liz's pussy to bed with him."

Mom giggled. I'm going to say that again — Mom giggled. Then she stopped.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. I would have preferred it if you two didn't have to listen to those sorts of comments."

"Oh, Mom!" I rolled my eyes. That was probably a waste of effort, I wasn't sure if she could see my eye rolling. "We hear those sorts of jokes every day at school — especially in the girls locker room. We were just shocked before because we didn't expect Daddy D. to say it."

"I see! I'm being square am I — an old fuddy-duddy?"

I treated that comment with the ignore that it deserved.

"Pass Sabrina here." I held out my hand. Mom put the stuffed kitten in my hand and I tucked Sabrina into the space on my chest between Liz and her arm.

"Are you all going to bed now?"

"Yes, honey, it's getting late." Mom used a hand to gently stroke my face, pushing my hair to the side away from my eyes. It was nice to just lie there and let her do it.

"That was fun, the Magic Roundabout stuff."

"I enjoyed it too. I wondered at first, when you came and wanted to join in, but now I'm glad that you did. It was good to just relax and have fun with you. It was good for your dad too. Whatever inspired you to do that?"

"You know that parenting book I've been reading? Well, the first chapter is all about how parents should make an effort to spend time with their kids; join in activities their kids enjoy and play games together or whatever. I figured the reverse must be true as well so I thought I should make an effort to spend time with my parents and join in with something you were enjoying."

In the dim light coming through the open door, I could see Mom chuckling quietly.

"If I'm not careful, you'll be a better parent than I am before you graduate from middle school."

"Don't say that, Mom. You're a good parent."

"Not really, I seem to mess it up more often than I get it right. Luckily for all of us, your dad has gotten very good at running around after me and tidying up my messes. Dan's starting to do a bit of that too. Just lately, it seems like every mistake I've made has ended up hurting you."

I groped around with my loose hand (Liz was lying on the other one) until I found Mom's hand. I gripped it and squeezed it hard. "And still I love you! Go figure!"

"And still you love me," she repeated and I could hear a hint of amazement in her voice. "You must sometimes have doubts that I love you, with the way I act."

"Mom!" I protested. Liz moaned and shifted on my chest. Her hand wrapped around Sabrina and she pulled her kitten closer to her. Then she settled and was still again; breathing steadily.

We both waited while Liz settled. My heart was feeling the hint of pain I'd heard in Mom's whispered voice.

"If ever I have any doubt, I just have to look at your paintings. I mean, look around." I used our joined hands to gesture around my room. "Okay, you can't really see them, but all those paintings on my walls are just full of how much you love me. Every brush stroke in every picture tells me what you see in me, what you love about me. And not just these, but all the paintings you've done of me; that one in the living room, even that print in your room from when I was little. No, Mom! I've never had any doubt how you feel about me."

"That print in my room? The one from when you were five? I thought you hated that."

"I hated having it hanging in the living room. Everyone who walked into the house could see my bare butt. That was really embarrassing."

"Oh!" Mom was quiet for a moment. "I always thought you hated it."

I suppose I had hated it for a long time. It actually used to creep me out — both the painting itself, and because some anonymous person had paid money to have a painting of my naked five-year-old bum hanging on their wall. I used to think that was really creepy.

I found to my surprise that I didn't mind anymore. I suppose spending a week living in a room where every wall is covered with pictures of me stark naked had gotten me over that.

"I supposed I used to, but it's a good picture, Mom, a really good picture." Apparently that mystery person had agreed because Mom had been paid an awful lot of money for it.

I must have sounded resigned when I said it because Mom lifted our joined hands up and kissed the back of my hand. "You're a good person, Bec. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"Everyone has their cross to bear," I said lightly, with a little smile on my face. Except then I remembered that she probably couldn't see me smiling.

She leaned over again and kissed my nose. "I love you so much, my little one. I love all my children of course, but you are so very precious to me. Every day you surprise me and I love every minute of it — even if I'm not good at showing you that all the time. I've been so proud of you these last few days; the things you've done, the way you've handled yourself — even when things didn't go your way, your drawing, your painting — so very proud."

I didn't want to say anything. I wasn't sure if my voice would work. I squeezed Mom's hand to let her know I had heard her. Her words had found a path all the way down to my heart and stuck there. As well as that, she was sounding happier than she had been five minutes before and I was happy about that too.

"I wanted to talk to you about what's going on between you and Dan."

I didn't really want to have that discussion in the middle of the night. Especially with both of us whispering so we didn't wake Liz. "It's okay, Mom," I said firmly. "I know what I have to do."

She paused for a moment as if she wanted to say something more, but then I heard a soft sigh. Hopefully it meant she had decided to trust me to do the right thing and stay away from Dan.

"I should let you get some sleep. I'm looking forward to meeting my new teenage daughter in the morning."

Mom squeezed my hand one last time and stood up.

"Mom! You and Dad should spend time with Tara. I don't mean cleaning the house — that was a punishment — I mean quality time. And she needs to practice saying no to people."

I heard Mom snort in the darkness. "Quality time? Is that out of your parenting book?"

"Yup! Page 30 — right underneath where it says you should give me a raise in my allowance."

Mom laughed softly, "Fat chance!" and she was gone.

I shrugged silently to myself. It was worth a try.

I absently stroked my hand down Liz's side. She murmured in her sleep and I lifted my head off the pillow so that I could kiss the crown of her head. I relaxed my head back and closed my eyes.

-------

I dreamt again. This time it made no sense; just a meaningless series of jumbled images. I saw a TV program once that said a lot of dreams are just our brain attempting to sort through and file away all the images it has collected that day. I guess it was one of those dreams. I liked my brain having all those pictures in my head all sorted and filed — it meant I could find them when I needed them. Good brain! I awarded my brain a little gold star for good dreaming.

I woke up again. My face and chest was being pressed into the wall by a steady pressure in the back of my head and in my back. My nose was all squished against the wall. It was very uncomfortable.

"Liz! Stop it!" I said, or at least I tried to say. I think it came out more as "Lish! Shtopi!"

I wriggled and squirmed and managed to turn myself around. Liz was clearly still mostly asleep but she was using her two hands to push me away from her. I gripped her wrists and gently but firmly twisted the upper one around behind her back and held it there. I couldn't do the same with the other one because she was lying down but I pushed it against her chest and used that to roll her over. Finally I could shift myself away from the wall.

Liz fussed in her sleep and tossed herself around a bit before settling again. She was again on her side facing me, but all the tossing had moved her further from me, so I had space to inch forwards away from the edge of the mattress and lie facing her.

I was laughing inside my head. I was starting to think that maybe the only way I could safely share a bed with Liz was if she was completely tied up into a bundle. Maybe I would need to wrap a sheet around and around her and make her look like an Egyptian mummy.

I lifted my head and peered until I could make out the digits on my bed-side clock. It was 5:29 am. How cool! I watched and waited patiently until it ticked over to 5:30 am. I smiled to myself and put my head down on the pillow. I was now officially thirteen years old. Apparently I had been born at exactly half past five at the Royal Preston Hospital back in England. Then it occurred to me that it had gone past 5:30 in England quite a few hours before. I had been thirteen for hours. I had probably already been thirteen when I'd been talking to Mom in the middle of the night and she'd made such a fuss about it being her last chance to see me before I turned into a teenager.

Oh well, now there was no doubt about it. I was definitely thirteen now.

Inside my brain, little versions of me cheered and jumped up and down. There were streamers and balloons all over. All the little me-s were having a regular little party in my brain. They put silly hats on their heads and pulled party-poppers and blew on those blow-out whistle things and threw confetti. Two little me-s skipped around my brain holding hands and singing, while another two sat quietly in the back and made out with each other ... Hang on! A little me was kissing another little me? Isn't that just a bit weird?

I opened my eyes and blinked as I realised I was staring into another pair of eyes — shining dimly in the gloom — only a few inches from mine.

"You stopped!" Liz whispered quietly, her voice a bit croaky from sleep.

"I did?" wondering what I'd stopped.

"You stopped kissing me." Her voice sounded like she was pouting.

"Oh!" I was kissing her?

"It was nice. I've never been woken up with a kiss before. I liked it."

"I wasn't doing anything else was I? Singing? Skipping? Throwing confetti?"

"Nope! Just kissing." I guess that's a relief.

"It's still dark. What time is it?"

"It's just gone half past five."

She groaned softly. "I'm going back to sleep. Will you kiss me awake again when it's morning? I'd like that."

"Okay!"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Oh and hey!"

"Hey?"

"You're thirteen."

"I really am."

"Happy birthday."

She moved her head forward the couple of inches that was needed and kissed me softly on the mouth. Then she put her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes.

I wondered if I should tell her that it was only a little bit of my brain that had kissed her, but I decided not to bother. I said some stern words to that bit of my brain. I told it that next time it wanted to kiss someone, it should tell the rest of me beforehand so that I could enjoy the experience at the time and not find out about it afterwards.

I focused my eyes back on Liz, wanting to talk some more, but she had already dropped back into that regular breathing that told me she was sleeping. I sighed and closed my eyes. Maybe I should sleep some more too.

-------

The next time I opened my eyes, there was light coming through the curtains. I was lying on my back again. Liz had curled up and was using my stomach as a pillow. Every time she breathed, air was rushing across that sensitive bit of my skin just under my belly button. It kind of tickled. She had one arm under my lower back and the other wrapped around my hips, effectively holding me in a full-circle hug. That would have been fine, except that she hadn't moved under the covers to do that, she'd taken the blankets down with her. That meant my entire upper body was exposed and I was feeling the cold. My bottom half was very warm and my top half was cold. I suppose on average I was just right. If only it worked like that.

I lay there and stared up at the blank expanse of ceiling spread above me. It occurred to me that I shouldn't ever point out to Mom how much empty space was up there. Who knew what kind of painting she would think of to put on my ceiling. On the other hand, maybe I could point it out to her some weekend when she was in a good mood and together we could paint blue sky and clouds — with maybe a colorful kite flying in the sky or something like that.

I shivered slightly and decided I couldn't stay like that much longer. I could just pull the blankets up and let Liz suffocate underneath them until she decided to move. On the other hand, her elbow was pressing down on a sensitive spot and making me feel like I needed to pee. Or maybe I needed to pee and her elbow was just making the sensation harder to ignore ... whatever. I needed to pee.

I reached down with a finger and tickled the soft skin under Liz's ear. The first time had no effect so I did it again. This time she murmured and shook her head a little. I tickled her a third time. A hand reached up and brushed away my finger before dropping back onto my stomach. Hmmm. I'd done this once to Angie when she'd gone to sleep on my lap in the living room and it had worked much better with her. I tried one more time. This time Liz grumbled and slid her head away from my hand. I felt her try to shift my entire body with her arms but I was obviously a bit heavier than her normal pillow. While she was still unsettled, I tickled once more and Liz fussed like a three year old as she turned herself all the way over, curling up into a little ball and pulling the blankets closely around her head.

Success! I mean sure, I was now completely uncovered but at least Liz wasn't lying on me any more. As carefully as I could, I crawled down the bed and off the end. I pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt, then wrapped my bathrobe around me and made a break for the bathroom.

-------

On the way back to my room, for no real reason, I peeked into the living room. The couch was pulled out and made up into a bed and Mr D. was lying on his back, snoring away quite happily.

I noticed something odd and crept closer so I could see. Yep, sure enough, Dougal — I mean the bear not the dog — was tucked into bed beside him. I grinned quietly to myself. It looked so out of place, this huge man sleeping with a stuffed bear. I had a suspicion that Dougal hadn't been there when Mr D. went to bed. I suspected it was Mom playing a joke. It was more like something Mom would do than what Dad would do.

The coffee table had been pushed to the side to make space for the bed. It had a row of empty beer bottles lined up on it, plus four empty coffee mugs. Obviously Mom had decided to leave the mess until morning. Sampson was lying on his side in the middle of the table with his paws wrapped around a bottle — now that was probably Dad.

I considered starting to clear up the mess while I was there but I decided it might be too noisy. I may as well let Mr D. sleep for as long as he could. I rescued the bottle from Sampson and sat it on the table in line with the others. I had to straighten up two of the bottles because the line was crooked. Then I tucked Sampson under my arm and headed back to my room.

Back in my room, I noticed for the first time that the floor was littered with stuffed animals. Ermintrude the Cow, Dylan the Rabbit and Sabrina the Kitten were all spread out over the floor beside the bed. It looked like the result of some terrible tragedy in the land of The Magic Roundabout. Actually it looked like Liz had pushed them all out of bed while she slept. I started giggling to myself and just couldn't stop.

I was still giggling when I noticed an envelope propped up on the bedside table. That hadn't been there when I went to bed. Oh wait, Mom had been putting something there when I spoke to her last night.

I opened the envelope and took out the card. It wasn't a normal birthday card. On the front was a picture of a skinny man in a vest and the old style baggy shorts held up with suspenders. He held the skeleton of an umbrella over his head and was standing on a soap box making a speech. A little half circle of three different types of dogs, a cat and a rabbit was sitting looking up at the man as if they were listening.

The message on the front of the card was "Blessed are the cracked..." Inside the card, the rest of the message said, " ... for they let in the light."

That started me laughing.

Mom had written, "I thought you might find this funny." She was right about that. Maybe earlier in the week I wouldn't have found it funny but now I did.

Then she had written. "Happy birthday to our sweet Rebecca. Thank you for lighting up our lives, Mom and Dad." Underneath that were three kisses and the date.

I stood the card up on the bedside table and picked up Nana's locket from where I had placed it last night when I undressed. I kissed the locket and hung it back around my neck.

Liz was stretched diagonally across the bed, corner to corner — she didn't quite reach the corners, she's not that tall. I looked down at her and shook my head. I really had to do something about this. I pulled the blankets off her and then quickly untucked the bottom sheet. One corner folded over her and tucked in, then the other corner folded over her and poked underneath. A bit more folding and tucking and I soon had a Liz-shaped cocoon with her head poking out one end. I put the blankets back over her so she wouldn't get cold and sat cross-legged on the bare mattress beside her.

I was about to tuck Sampson in next to her, but then I changed my mind and dropped him over the side of the bed so that he joined the carnage on the floor.

I licked my lips and leaned over to keep my promise to Liz. As sweetly and as gently as I could, I kissed her — right on the lips — and I kept kissing her, gradually getting firmer and firmer until I felt her stir beneath me and her mouth started responding to mine. I kept the kiss going a moment longer and then sat back up. Liz's lips kind of stretched up in an attempt to keep the contact going and then they changed into a pouting shape when they realized my lips were gone. Her eyes were still closed but she was obviously awake.

"Penalty for excessive pouting, put one penny in the jar."

She giggled and opened her eyes to look at me. Then she wriggled and frowned as she realized her arms were trapped by her sides and that she could hardly move.

"Um? Is there a reason why I'm all wrapped up like this?"

"You, my dear potential butterfly, are in a cocoon. Mwahahaa!" I whipped the blankets away so that she could see the full horror of her situation! (Just kidding) "And you're going to stay that way while we have a little talk." I put my hands together and tapped my fingertips— practicing my evil look.

"Oh! Please! Be gentle with me" she whimpered.

I dropped my attempt at being evil — I'm not that good at it.

"You know how at your place, you have all those stuffed animals on your bed. Do you leave them there each night when you go to sleep?"

Liz looked at me with a little puzzled expression. "I guess so, but usually I end up dropping them on the floor during the night. They really only live on my bed during the day."

"Aha! I thought so. I think I just discovered why I ended up falling out of bed earlier this week."

"You have?"

"Yep! Can you move enough to see the floor?"

She wriggled and squirmed herself sideways and looked over the edge of the bed. I had to stop myself from bursting out laughing. She looked very funny, wriggling across the bed like that. She wasn't a cocoon yet, she was still a caterpillar. But this wasn't a time for laughing at her. I had my little drama to perform.

"What you are looking at could either be the result of some dastardly villain putting a bomb under the Magic Roundabout — or it could be what happens when you, Elizabeth Davidson, go to sleep with soft toys in your bed. What do you think?"

She looked up at me with a curious expression on her face but didn't offer an answer.

"I think that my best friend forever treats me like I'm a stuffed toy and pushes me out of bed while she's sleeping! And..." I pointed dramatically at the floor, " ... I have proof!"

She looked at me with big, sad eyes. "I'm sorry!"

"So from now on, whenever we sleep together. You get to sleep like this!" I pointed at her caterpillar body.

She pouted and kept looking at me with those sad eyes. "You wouldn't"

I smiled down at her. "Maybe not, but we need to do something. You aren't the easiest person to sleep with."

She relaxed her head back into the pillow and looked up at me.

"Just how many people have you slept with?"

I blinked at her unexpected question and then smiled at her as mysteriously as I could.

"Never you mind!" But then I spoilt it all by giggling. Liz giggled too, her caterpillar body shaking. That reminded me to pull the blankets back over her before she got too cold — she was only wearing a sheet.

"It's nearly time to get up. I'm thinking of making breakfast. I figure after last night, neither Mom nor Dad, will be keen to do very much. Do you want to help me?"

She smiled. "Sure! But I think the butterfly Liz will be able to help you more than the cocoon Liz could!" We shared a laugh.

I leaned down and kissed her on the mouth again, just briefly.

"I love you, Lizzy. You're a good friend ... and as a special bonus, you seem to get me."

"Most of the time!" corrected Liz.

"Most of the time!" I agreed.

I sat looking down at her for a moment and she lay looking up at me with a little smile on her face.

Then I started to smile. "I'm having a very wicked thought!"

"Ooo! Do tell!"

"Well,..."



-------

Chapter 35: Sunday Morning


I shook Tara's shoulder, committed to the usual long process of waking my sister. I was surprised when her eyes popped open suddenly and she looked up at me — clearly already awake.

"Hey, you're awake!"

"Not really, I'm just pretending."

"Oh, well. It's time to pretend to get out of bed then."

"I got woken up half an hour ago by a good deal of screaming coming through the wall."

I grinned down at her. "Sorry about that. Liz doesn't usually scream like that when I get in a tickle fight with her."

"That's because she usually wins and it's normally you howling like a cat on heat. How did you manage to win for once?"

I grinned again. "I cheated. I had Liz all wrapped up in a sheet before I started. She couldn't get her arms free to defend herself."

She laughed. "Figures!"

"Anyway, our screaming in the next room wouldn't normally wake you up."

"I went to bed early last night. I didn't feel like..."

"Oh! Okay!"

We looked at each other for a moment — exchanging wordless psychic messages.

I broke it by patting her thigh through the blankets and standing up. "I'm making breakfast. Bathroom's free. It won't be for long." I headed towards the door. "I have to wake up The Parents soon — I think they might be a bit slow to get up this morning."

I stopped at the door. "Oh! Liz's father stayed the night. That means we still have a guest. So, as far as I can figure out Mom's rules from yesterday, that means you get to wear proper clothes to breakfast and not that bathrobe."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

She rolled out of bed — for the first time I realized that she was wearing one of her oversized t-shirts, obviously a concession from Mom — and crossed to her closet. She flung her closet doors open to reveal empty space. Absolutely the only thing in there was one single, small pile on a shelf. It was the outfit she'd worn last night for dinner, neatly folded and stacked.

"What do you suggest I wear?"

She folded her arm and stared into the closet. "Choices, choices, choices!"

Her words were light and joking, but underneath there was a core of anger and frustration and despair.

"Come into my room, I'll find you some fresh underwear and you can borrow some jeans and a top." I said it as gently as I could.

She laughed, but the laughter had that bubble of hysteria under it.

"Oh, I have underwear. Mom let my have my underwear back. Well, most of it anyway. She picked through it all and kept the stuff that was 'unacceptable.'" Tara did the whole finger quotes thing.

"Tara, you're not seriously blaming Mom for all this are you?"

She sighed and I could almost see all the emotion draining out of her. "No! No I'm not." Now her voice just sounded tired.

She pulled open a half-filled drawer and picked out a clean bra and pair of panties. "I'm just going to get in the shower. I'd like to borrow something — anything. You pick it out. I don't care. Just choose something that would pass Mom's inspection."

She didn't even look at me, just wrapped a robe around herself and walked out of the room.

-------

The shower was running and I could hear splashing so I just walked straight into the bathroom. I put my little donation of clothing on the counter next to where Tara had placed her clean underwear. I'd chosen for her my loose black jeans with little yellow and purple flowers embroidered up the front of the left leg, then I'd matched that with a slightly oversized lemon sweater that would pick up the color of the flowers on the jeans. Assuming that Mom wanted Tara in clothes that were loose and covered her up then these should qualify, plus they would look okay so Tara wouldn't hate it too much. Also since I was wearing my blue jeans with embroidered flowers, we would look a bit like twins but not totally.

"You have some clothes!" I called at the indistinct shape moving inside the shower.

I was on my way out of the bathroom when I heard a "Hey!"

I looked back and saw Tara had stuck her head out.

"Happy Birthday! I forgot to say it before."

I smiled at her and left the bathroom just in time to catch a little dynamo wearing a Bratz t-shirt nightie and bright purple shoes. She was running down the hallway in her usual morning attempt to get to the TV before anyone could stop her. I picked her up as she ran past me and she squealed and giggled as she suddenly found herself high up in the air.

"No TV this morning, little sis. We have a guest sleeping in the living room. It's Liz's dad who was here for dinner last night. You better stay out of there until he's gotten up. Would you like to help me get breakfast ready?"

Angie had pouted when I told her she couldn't watch TV but started smiling and nodding when I asked her to help me with breakfast. Soon I had her standing on a chair with a way-too-large apron tied around her as she mixed and stirred with more enthusiasm than skill.

The only problem with that bit of genius was that then I had to stay in the kitchen and watch her until Tara came out of the shower and could be recruited. As soon as that happened, I left Tara and Angie in the kitchen and went into the living room to wake Mr D.

That was amazingly easy to do. As soon as I touched his shoulder, his snoring cut off and he was awake. I told him that the bathroom was free and that breakfast would be ready in a little while. I gave him a clean towel and a disposable razor in case he wanted to shave — that bit was a hint, he definitely needed to shave.

I knocked on Mom and Dad's door and then pushed it open. This part wasn't usually necessary. Most mornings they got up on their own. Even if I got up early and started cooking, it was like my cooking was a magical summoning spell that called them out of their room. This morning my magic seemed to have failed.

Mom was just sitting up in bed as a result of my knocking. Her eyes looked hollow and her hair was a mess. She looked like she hadn't slept too well. Dad didn't move. I wasn't sure if he was awake or not. He had his pillow pulled tightly over his head. It looked like he was trying to suffocate himself with his own pillow. Is it possible to do that? You see in movies sometimes when someone gets killed by having a pillow pushed into their face. Can you do that to yourself? I thought about rushing to Dad's rescue but Mom didn't seem too concerned so I stopped myself. I told them we were cooking breakfast and that it would be ready soon. I reminded them that we had to go to the police station so we had to get the day started.

Mom poked Dad with a finger and he groaned. I guess at least that meant he wasn't completely suffocated. I backed out of the room and closed the door. Maybe he just hadn't held the pillow there long enough.

Liz came in from the back door just as I returned to the kitchen. She was carrying a plastic shopping bag and a big metallic balloon that said "Happy Birthday" on one side and "3" on the other.

I saw that and started laughing. She shrugged. "I saw these balloons and thought it would be cool to get you one, but they didn't have any with thirteen on them. If you find me a marker, I'll put a one in front of the three. It'll be perfect."

I dug a black permanent marker out of a drawer and handed it to her.

"Did you get it all?"

"Yeah! The first shop was still closed but the second place you told me about had everything." She handed me a plastic shopping bag. I peeked inside.

"These are brilliant."

"I put your bicycle back in the garage."

"Thanks."

Liz tied the balloon to the back of my normal chair. I looked around the room. The banner and streamers and balloons were still in place from where my family had decorated the kitchen last night. It looked great — very party-like.

I looked at Angie who had a smudge of flour on her left cheek and her arms were coated in pancake mix.

"Tara, would you take Angie and clean her up and get her dressed."

"Do I have to? Why don't you do it?"

"Because I'm cooking breakfast."

"I'll do it," offered Liz. "It'll be awesome fun. Come on Angie. Let's go get you ready. "

Liz rescued the apron from Angie and I hung it back up while she led Angie out of the room. I turned back to Tara. "Maybe you could get the ham steaks all sliced up and ready to cook. They only take a few minutes each, so everything has to be ready to go."

Tara mumbled but got started on the ham. I talked to her while we worked. I was trying to get her to pep up a bit so she could at least pretend to be cheerful and happy at breakfast.

The Parents and Mr D. showed up in the kitchen just about the same time the first ham steak hit the pan and started sizzling. I decided that the magic summoning spell must have started working again. I handed them each a mug of coffee and chased them out of the kitchen.

About ten minutes before breakfast was due to be ready, we heard a weird slapping sound come rushing down the hallway into the kitchen. The slapping sound turned out to be Angie. She was carrying Lucy and wearing a pale blue t-shirt that said "Girrrl Power" across the chest and her blue denim skirt with a double row of gold stitching that sometimes broke free of the hem and looped and swirled crazily across the fabric before returning to its place around the edges. To complete the outfit, she was wearing swimming flippers and a pair of goggles.

Tara and I grinned but we were too well trained to laugh at her. Mom had given us several lectures about that. Sometimes Angie would do weird and funny stuff deliberately to make us laugh and then laughing was okay — unless she was doing something that needed to be discouraged in which case laughing was not okay. And sometimes Angie would just do weird stuff because she was three and she was exploring, in which case laughing at her was absolutely the worst thing to do because it would make her self-conscious and squash all her creativity. Mom has always been very big on not squashing creativity — I'm not complaining about that by the way.

So Tara and I were just quietly grinning at each other when Liz trailed into the kitchen. She had a rueful expression on her face. I think she couldn't figure out if she should laugh or cry. She slumped into a chair and I sent Angie out to entertain the parents.

"I have a flapper bear called Savannah," said Liz a bit sadly. I wondered why she would be sad about that. "She's about this tall," holding her hands a bit more than a foot apart, "and she's choklit brown." I nodded, wondering where this was going. "I have about five different outfits for her, so once every few days I pick out a new outfit for her and put it on. Right now she's wearing a claret red velvet gown with spaghetti straps and a matching red velvet headband with a feathery thing over her ear. It's really cute."

"Okay!" I said, still having no idea where this was going. That was okay, sometimes I had to listen for ages to follow Liz — she tended to wander off the subject all the time.

"She's a bear, remember, not a doll. I'm obviously too old to play with dolls. Dressing up a bear is not the same thing at all."

"Gotcha! It's not the same," I nodded at her with a serious expression on my face.

"Obviously," added Tara with just a touch too much sarcasm for my liking. I glared at Tara and she went back to grilling the ham steaks.

"So anyway, I figured dressing Angie couldn't be much harder than dressing Savannah. I just had to pick a nice outfit and help her put it on. It sounded so easy."

Tara and I both just laughed. We didn't laugh meanly, but we did laugh. Mom's training about not laughing only protected Angie, not our friends — or each other. Liz pouted at us.

"You told her she couldn't wear her purple shoes, didn't you?" I asked.

"Yeah," she admitted, not sure if she was confessing to a capital crime. "They didn't go with the outfit I'd picked."

"And then Angie started having a meltdown," chimed in Tara, "so you panicked because you didn't want her to disturb everyone."

"So what did you say? Did you offer to let her wear any shoes she wanted?" I asked.

"More or less," admitted Liz.

"So Angie, being the little angel that she is, picked out the most outrageous thing in her closet — just to get back at you."

Liz's shoulders slumped. "I just failed the big sister test, didn't I?"

"Not really," said Tara. "In fact I think it's kind of like an initiation."

"We've all fallen for it at one time or another," I explained. "The rule is that tantrums are bad. Tantrums should never win. So you either try things that won't cause a tantrum or stick to your guns if one starts up."

"When Bec was little, one time we went to a concert thing back in England. It was like the characters from Sesame Street only different. Before the concert started, she threw the biggest tantrum ever because she didn't get the same sweets everyone else was getting. Mom told her to stop and when she didn't, Mom just picked her up and carried her out of the theatre. Bec got taken all the way home and put to bed. The rest of us had to catch a taxi home after the concert."

I rolled my eyes at Tara and Liz. There should be some rule where the stupid things you do when you were younger than say, six years old, just get wiped out of your family's memories. They should be completely erased so they can never be mentioned again — ever.

I suddenly realized that we hadn't heard from Dan yet this morning, so I got Liz to come and take over from me. I was having fun with pancakes and stirring the apple sauce, so it took a moment to show Liz what to do before I could head down the hallway to Dan's room.

I knocked on his door and went to open the door and stick my head in, but I stopped myself. Maybe I shouldn't even go in his room. My hand trembled on the door handle. I didn't know what to do. I leaned against the door and listened. I couldn't hear anything.

I knocked again. "Dan? Dan! Breakfast is nearly ready. You have five minutes."

I heard a muffled grunt from inside and I turned and fled.

I slid into the kitchen, put my back against the wall and closed my eyes, trying frantically to hold back the tears.

"I think this is a bad idea. Let's not do this."

"What's a bad idea, Bec?" That was Liz. "Cooking pancakes? Having breakfast? Going to the police? Having a birthday?"

"I don't know, maybe all of it."

"So what do you want to do? Hide in your room all day?" Tara's voice sounded harsh.

"Maybe! That would be nice." It did sound very inviting.

"Well you can't!" I wasn't sure if she was being mean, or trying to kick me out of my bad mood.

"Today you have to be on show — all day today. You don't get a choice. And it starts with breakfast. It was your idea to cook all this for breakfast. I would have settled for beans on toast — but nooo! You had to go all out! So now you're going to call everyone in here and we're going to have a big breakfast together. Dammit!"

Okay, now she was ranting at me. In a weird kind of way it was good to hear her getting angry with me, she'd been so down on herself and now she was all fired up. The bad side of that was she was all fired up at me.

I surrendered. I'd briefly considered letting Rebecca Louise deal with everything and I would just hide in the back of my brain and let it happen. I decided that I really wanted to enjoy today and hiding in the back of my skull wasn't a good way to do that.

"Okay! Okay! Let's do this. It's going to be fun."

I yelled out that breakfast was ready and started putting pancakes on plates. A goggle-eyed Angie came flapping and slapping into the kitchen first, followed by The Parents and Daddy D. All three of them looked a bit bleary eyed and half awake and not at all in the birthday party spirit. I grinned to myself. I was about to do something about that.

We sat Tara on the other side of the table beside Angie so that Liz could sit next to me and her dad could sit next to her.

I put Angie's pancake in front of her first and she squealed with joy when she saw it. I had mixed up three pancake mixtures with different color food dye in each. Then I'd made a pancake with one color, waited until it was half cooked, then scraped out tiny sections and poured in the other colors to make a multi-colored smiley face. It hadn't worked as well as I'd hoped but still I thought it looked pretty awesome. Angie obviously thought so too because she clapped her hands in excitement and even all three parents were pretty impressed. Tara and Liz and I got my earlier experiments with faces which hadn't come out quite as well but were still recognizable as faces. The adults all got random multi-colored swirly patterned pancakes that I'd started and Liz had made a heap more of once I'd shown her how.

I poured out more coffee for the adults, then produced the glasses of milk that I'd prepared earlier for us girls — they were all a bright color (different for each of us) with pretty little colored marshmallows floating in the top. We also had what Mom calls "Fairy Bread" which is made of small triangles of white bread with colored sprinkles on top. Totally kids party-food time! It was awesome.

Liz dived into the shopping bag and then ran around and put little party hats on everyone's heads. I think the dads might have objected to the party hats but we had pulled off the surprise so perfectly that they were still sitting looking stunned when she snapped the hat elastic over their heads.

Dad looked around at brightly decorated table and all the multi-colored food and groaned. Mom was kind of staring at me. Daddy Davidson was looking a bit uncertain. Dan arrived in the room and slid into his chair just as us girls let loose with the party poppers and whistle blowouts.

Tara stuck a hat on Dan and let off a party popper all over him. The two dads were both looking a bit fragile and covering their ears. Liz and I looked at each other with grins on our faces and exchanged winks. Mom had a strange look on her face that I couldn't figure out.

Okay, so maybe it was wicked, but they started it when they did something similar to Dan last week. And we weren't being horrible about it. We were just being all happy and enthusiastic and cheerful just when none of the adults were ready to cope with that.

Dad groaned again, "Louise, what have we done? I think we created a monster."

Mom didn't reply, but she might have nodded.

Daddy D. looked around the table. "Is this a family tradition too? To have all the colored food and everything?"

I nodded cheerfully — hoping I wasn't forcing my smile too much. "It's kind of a new tradition. We only do it for really special occasions, or when someone wants to make a point."

I said the last bit looking at Mom, but she didn't react. I was a bit disappointed. I wanted her to say something angry or try to tell me off or something. I wanted to be able to react to that and answer back with something clever — I'd thought up several clever comments while I'd been planning all this. But she wasn't playing the game —she was just sitting there. Dad was doing the right thing and he'd gotten my message. If they wanted to give Dan a hard time for having a hangover then turnabout was fair play.

I hurried people into eating their pancakes before they got cold. I think the dads were pleased because it meant everyone was quieter. I don't know what Mom was thinking.

Tara started giggling "My face is winking at me." She held up her plate so everyone could see. It certainly looked like that because one of the eyes hadn't worked too well so it kind of looked like one closed eye and one open one.

Daddy D. pointed at Liz's pancake face and said, "It looks like this poor guy had a stroke because all of one side of the face is droopy." Everyone laughed.

I looked down at my pancake — it was only just recognizable as a face. It was the second one I'd tried. The first one had gone into the trash. A tiny bit of my brain was hurt that people were laughing at the results of my experimenting, but then I decided that they really did look funny.

I held up my plate and told them it was a Picasso face — all distorted and expressionistic. (I stumbled over the word expressionistic and Mom corrected me — well at least she was reacting to me. That was something, I suppose.)

People laughed at my Picasso joke though, so that made me feel better.

I tried the fairy bread but I decided it was waaay too sweet for that time of the morning. I jumped up and put some slices of fresh plain bread on a plate for anyone who didn't want to have fairy bread.

I waited until everyone had just finished their first pancakes and the dads were starting to eye the stack of extras in the middle of the table, when I pulled the lids off the covered plates I'd had in the middle of the table.

"So who wants some green eggs and ham?"

"Huh?" said Daddy D. Nearly everyone else started laughing.

I'd poached the eggs and put the green dye into the egg white just after it started cooking. I'd had to stir really carefully to avoid bursting the yolk. That meant the green wasn't spread evenly through the egg white but it had worked fairly well.

"I like green eggs and ham!" quoted Dad. "I do! I like them, Sam-I-am!" "And I would eat them in a boat. And I would eat them with a goat..."

I served Dad some eggs and ham, hoping to stop him from quoting the whole thing. I knew he could because he'd done so from time to time. I guess I kind of expected it when I made the green eggs but I still hoped he'd only do a bit of it and not the whole thing.

I offered the choice of green apple sauce or red apple sauce to go on the ham. (It was really apple puree but apple sauce sounds better.) I explained that obviously the green apple sauce came from green apples and the red apple sauce came from red apples. That stopped Dad because he had to pause and admire how very green the green apple sauce was and how very red the red apple sauce was. He went with green because it was more in keeping with the story. Since I hadn't actually served green ham, he would have green sauce on his ham.

I remember a long family discussion once about whether the ham was green or not. Dad had argued that "green eggs and ham" was the same as "ham and green eggs." Mom had argued that the picture in the book clearly showed the ham being green as well as the eggs and that the only reason the book didn't say "green eggs and green ham" was that it wouldn't have fit the pattern of the rhyme so well. Dad, being sensible, had surrendered and declared himself convinced.

Everyone else started serving themselves ham and eggs so I was free to pay attention to Liz who was whispering at me to ask what my dad was quoting from.

I explained how Dr Seuss was Nana's favorite author and she had kept buying us all the books when we were little. There was Green Eggs and Ham, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, The Cat in the Hat and so on and so on. Liz had heard of The Grinch and The Cat in the Hat but she hadn't realized they were by the same author. She also decided that she'd heard the phrase "green eggs and ham" but hadn't known where it came from.

As soon as Dad realized that Liz didn't know it, Dad started from the beginning — using different voices for Sam and the other one: "I am Sam, I am Sam, Sam I am." "That Sam-I-am! That Sam-I-am! I do not like that Sam-I-am!" "Do you like green eggs and ham?..."

I just sighed and ate my ham and eggs. Apparently Dad was feeling better.

-------

After breakfast it was presents time. Dan had already given me his present and Mom and I had visited the health spa as her present so I didn't expect much. Liz gave me a gorgeous little necklace with a crystal hanging from a thin chain so I had to put that on immediately. Tara gave me some colored pencils and a new sketchpad with the most beautiful running horse on the front. That was excellent because my old one was nearly full. Mom and Dad gave me a new set of grey lead pencils — the expensive kind — and a new pillow for my bed and a mug that said "Smarty Pants" and a shopping voucher for one of the big clothing places at the mall. That was pretty awesome. Everyone was sitting around with the silly party hats on and cheering and tootling on the blowouts every time I opened a present. That was great fun.

-------

The two dads went with us to the police station. We refused to leave the house until they took their party hats off. I think they fully intended to walk into the police station wearing them. That would have been sooo embarrassing. I think sometimes dads go out of their way to embarrass their kids — it's like it's a conspiracy or something because they all seem to do it. Dad drove Liz and me in the car while Daddy D. followed behind on his bike.

I had figured out that they would probably ask me to describe what the man looked like so I sat in the car and started drawing his face on the back of a brochure offering us a free assessment of the value of our home. Dad told me not to show Liz the drawing because the police would probably ask her to describe the man separately from me.

Inside the police station was fairly quiet. It wasn't like those police shows you see where the waiting room is always crowded with people. I guess not many people do crime on a Sunday morning. I figured that if I ever became a criminal, that I should do my crime on a Sunday morning because then nobody would be expecting it and it would catch everyone by surprise.

We still had to wait for a little while. It wasn't very long but it was long enough for me to finish the sketch I was doing.

When it was our turn, Mr Davidson did all the explaining about why we were there. The police officer at the front desk seemed to recognize him which I suppose wasn't that surprising because of his job. Then they took us through to some little interview rooms and Dad and I went in one, while Liz and her dad went in the other one.

Now the interview room was exactly like they are in those TV shows. Dad and I sat in there waiting for someone to come talk to us and I started to feel a bit silly.

"Dad, will you hold my hand."

"Sure honey. What's the matter? Are you feeling a bit nervous?"

"I suppose a bit. But also, if they ask me how long the man's penis was, I just know I'm going to burst out laughing."

It seemed like we were going to be waiting in the room for a while, so I started telling Dad about the weird dream I'd had last night. I'd got as far as describing the line-up with the men having to hide their faces and show me their penises when I realized that Dad wasn't laughing.

I stopped talking and figured out that Dad was more upset than I'd thought about this thing that had happened. To me it was just a sad and lonely man who'd done something stupid and then it was over. I think Dad had built it up in his head about how he was supposed to protect me from things like that or something. I don't know. All I could figure out was that he was upset about it. So I just sat in the room and held his hand and waited for someone to come and do the interview.

It seemed to make him feel better, me holding his hand ... or me letting him hold my hand ... or whatever.

-------

The officer who interviewed me wasn't a little old lady, much to my relief. She was fairly youngish and looked like she was quite athletic under the shapeless uniform. She had this long form she filled out while she asked us questions. Dad had to say who he was and show his license and I had to say who I was and how old I was and all of that. When she wrote my birth date onto the form, she blinked twice and then looked up at me to check it was correct. When I nodded, she smiled and wished me a happy birthday.

The questions went on for a while until she got to the one about describing the man. I told her that since he was sitting down, I wasn't sure how tall he was, but that he looked like this. I pulled my sketch out of my pocket and put it on the table in front of her. I'm not sure, but I think she recognized the man straight away. She asked me if I'd drawn it and when I'd drawn it and stuff like that. She asked me to sign it and date it and then she went back to the form and skipped past all the description questions. She kind of snorted when I told her what I'd said about how it was just like a penis only smaller. I think she was trying to stop herself from laughing. She carefully wrote down what I'd said and asked what happened next.

She never once asked me to describe what the penis looked like, or how long it was or anything like that but she did check how much of it I could see (all of it) and if the man was touching it when I saw it. I told her that he was masturbating it with his hand and she wrote that down. I could feel Dad sitting next to me and getting anxious when I talked about that. I squeezed his hand and looked at him. I tried to send him psychic messages saying I was okay about all of this and that he shouldn't be upset either. I could see him calm down a bit so I went back to answering questions. Finally the questions were finished and I had to sign the form and Dad had to sign it too. She asked us to wait a bit longer and she left the room, taking the form and my picture with her.

We didn't have to wait long this time. She came back and asked us to go with her. We went to an office area with lots of desks covered with paperwork and computers and only a few of the desks had officers working at them. She explained that she was going to show me a series of eight pictures and I was to tell her if I recognized the man who I'd seen yesterday. I just about burst out laughing, but I stopped myself when I saw that they were pictures of the men's faces. Our man was the fifth picture. I pointed him out and she checked to see that I was sure. I had no doubt about it at all. She printed the picture with a number under it and a short statement that I had to sign that said I had picked out that picture as being the offender.

During all of that, another officer had led Liz and her dad to another desk and was obviously showing her a set of similar pictures. I heard Liz point out the one she thought was the right man. She sounded a bit doubtful but she signed the printout anyway.

The officer who'd been looking after me checked which picture Liz had picked and I saw a little nod — Liz had obviously picked the same guy as me. She came back to us and thanked us for coming in on such an important day (for me). She said my picture had sped up the process a lot because normally we would have had to come back in on another day and do an identikit photo and so on.

And that was it. We were given cards advising us that we could get counseling as victims of a crime and we were given a copy of the form we'd filled out and they showed us back to the front of the police station.

I decided that I didn't need counseling because I didn't feel like I was the victim of anything. I thought maybe that Dad needed counseling but I don't think they offer that to the fathers of victims of crime.

Liz and her dad hugged each other goodbye and I gave him a hug too. Then he put his helmet on and rode off. Dad drove Liz and me back home to our place.

On the way home, we passed a traffic circle type of roundabout. I pointed at it.

"I wonder if that's a magic roundabout."

We all laughed.



-------

Chapter 36: Sunday Afternoon

The trip back from the police station flew by as Liz and I sat in the back seat and exchanged stories of our interviews.

There was a strange car sitting outside our house when we pulled into our drive. Inside the living room, the first thing I saw was Mom on the couch under the painting of Dan and Dad with Tara sitting uncomfortably next to her. I scanned around the room and on the other couch I saw Tara's friend, Tracey, sitting just as uncomfortably next to an older woman whom I assumed was her mother. Dan was sitting in one of the armchairs, with Angie on his lap. Angie still had her flippers on, but the goggles were now pushed up onto her forehead.

Everyone looked at me as I stepped into the room. Tracey and her mother stood up and Tracey introduced me and Liz to her mother, then I introduced my Dad who had come into the room behind us. Everyone did the whole shaking hands thing, then Tracey and her mom sat down again. I scuttled across to my spot under Mom's painting, dragging Liz with me. That had the triple advantage of being in my favorite place and having my friend with me and not being too close to Dan. Dad sat down in his armchair and we all kind of looked at Tracey and her mom, waiting to see what was going on.

Tracey looked different. It took me a moment to figure it out but then I realized that the makeup she usually wore was completely missing. She had a couple of spots on her chin that were normally invisible, but apart from that her face was nice enough. I decided I had been right when I thought she didn't need to wear all that stuff on her face. Also both Tracey and her mom were wearing what I can only describe as church clothes. Tracey was wearing a white long-sleeved blouse with a high collar, a pale gray skirt with little white flecks that fell to just below her knees, leather shoes and a small white purse on a long leather strap over one shoulder – very churchy.

Tracey's mother looked at Dad then across at me. "I'm sorry that we've intruded on your preparations for a family visit. This shouldn't take long. Tracey needs to say something. She's grounded right now, so the only way this could happen was if I brought her across here and we did it properly."

Everyone's attention turned to Tracey and she looked even more uncomfortable. She was sitting on the front edge of the sofa and looked as if she weren't sure if she should stand up or not. In the end, she stayed where she was.

"I just wanted to thank Dan and Bec for taking me home from the party on Friday night. I shouldn't have been there and I was very ... um ... relieved when you offered to take me home, so thank you."

Tracey's voice wasn't quiet, but it was kind of subdued.

"And as for you, Bec, I know I've been kind of ... I know I haven't been as nice to you as I should have and I'm sorry about that because you hadn't given me any reason to treat you like that and then you did that for me at the party and I didn't deserve for you to help me like that after the way I treated you and I'm really sorry about all that and I promise I'll be ... I promise I'll try to be nicer to you so that maybe I can make it up to you for the way I was to you before and then maybe you'll forgive me for..."

It had all come out in a rush but she just trailed off at the end as she realized she was repeating herself. She'd obviously had to edit herself as she was going. I understood that. There was stuff you just couldn't say in front of the adults – especially in a situation like this.

I realized the room had gone quiet and I figured out that everyone was waiting for me to say something. I mumbled out a thankyou and then Tracey's mother started lecturing her about making poor choices and going down the wrong path and making something of herself and so on.

I wanted to ask Tracey something but there was no way I could do it in front of everyone in the room. I waited until Tracey's mom finished her speech and then I politely asked if I could speak to Tracey outside for a moment. The adults all seemed surprised by that and looked at each other as if they were waiting for someone else to make the decision. Finally I saw a little nod from Tracey's mom and Dad nodded at me so I left Liz behind and walked out the front door with Tracey.

It was a bit cold outside, but not horrible, so I figured out here was our best chance for privacy. I knew what I wanted to say but I didn't know how to start so I gestured to Tracey and we sat on the outdoor bench Dad had set up ages ago. That gave me a moment to think things through in my head.

"Your mom doesn't seem to realize that this is all about Laura."

She looked at me for a moment and then she looked away. "I don't know what you mean."

I kind of snorted. "Whose idea was it to go to the party? Whose idea was it to wear those stupid 'Look at me, I'm a slut' outfits? Who was it who gave you those outfits to wear in the first place? Whose idea was it to get up and dance in front of those guys like you were the meat at some sort of cattle auction? Do I need to go on?"

I was only halfway down my list of questions, but I'd figured I could stop because she'd started flinching.

She sighed. "No, you can stop."

"You guys are just so used to doing what Laura tells you to do that I bet it didn't even occur to you to say no to her. Except for what's-her-name – the other one – at least she had the brains to think up a sensible excuse."

"Bri had to babysit."

"Of course she did." I let the sarcasm in my voice pile up so high that she couldn't help but notice it.

"Bri babysits all the time. She's good at it." Tracey was sounding defensive.

"Well maybe you and Tara should start babysitting more often too. You all have to stand up to Laura more. You have to not always do what she says. You should look after each other better."

"I guess."

"Anyway, that's kind of why I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor to ask."

"What?"

"Our mom kind of freaked when she saw what Tara was wearing. She's pretty much taken over deciding what Tara is going to wear anytime she's in public."

"That's harsh!"

I shrugged. "Maybe! But that means she'll probably turn up to school tomorrow wearing something a bit, I don't know, conservative or whatever. I don't mean conservative like..."

I gestured at Tracey's outfit and she wriggled and straightened her skirt.

"We came here straight from church. I don't normally..."

"I figured something like that. But anyway, tomorrow Tara won't be wearing her normal sort of outfit. But it won't have been her choice. Can you, like, stand up for her or something? At the very least, don't join in on giving her crap about her clothes – especially don't help Laura do that."

I paused and peered at Tracey through narrow eyes. "I guess I'm asking you to be a real friend for Tara tomorrow."

I knew I was asking a lot. I mean they were friends, but I don't think they were real friends – not like Liz and I are real friends.

Tracey didn't get a chance to answer because at that moment my mom and her mom and my dad came piling out of the front door. Apparently they'd decided that we'd had enough time to talk and it was time for Tracey to go home. Tara and Liz had trailed after them and were standing together in the doorway, looking out at us.

Tracey pulled me into a hug, which I wasn't expecting. She whispered into my ear, "I really am sorry. Tell Tara I'm sorry too. Tell her I'll talk to her tomorrow at school."

After they had driven off, I grabbed Tara and Liz and kept them outside while The Parents went back in.

During the entire time I'd been in the house with Tracey, Tara hadn't opened her mouth once. They'd hardly looked at each other. I was pretty sure that things would have been the same before I arrived. I wasn't sure if Tara had been told not to speak or had just felt so awkward that she didn't say anything.

I lined Tara up and looked her straight in the eye.

"Tracey says hi and she says sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

I shrugged. "Sorry for whatever. Sorry for everything. She didn't say. Now listen. Tomorrow at school, if Tracey tries to be nice to you, don't be stupid about it – be nice back to her. If she stands up to Laura, do anything you can to support her. Can you do that?"

Tara looked doubtful, but then she shrugged. "I guess."

"If Laura's being a bitch tomorrow, then you have to stand up to her and tell her to go shove it. Can you do that? Hopefully Tracey will back you up."

Now Tara started to look really worried.

I was staring right into her eyes. "Tara, this is serious. Tomorrow at school, if Laura is being a bitch, you have to tell her to go jump in the lake and then walk away from her. Do you get that?

Tara had a weird expression on her face. She hesitated and then nodded.

"Tara, now say, 'Yes, Bec, I will do what you say!'"

It was like a game we played – Tara, Dan and me. We'd tell each other what to say and they'd say it – mostly – if they were willing to play the game – if they were willing to do what you wanted them to do. I held my breath.

"Yes, Bec, I will do what you say."

I quietly let out my breath.

Then she was hugging me. I think she was shaking a bit. It shouldn't be so hard for her. It shouldn't be so scary for her. It should be obvious what she had to do, and she should just do it. But my sister isn't like that.

I pushed Tara back as gently as I could, but firmly. "One last thing, if it all ends up in a mess tomorrow. At lunchtime, come and sit with us. I know you normally don't want to, but if it comes down to a choice of that or sitting on your own, please come and sit with us."

Liz made agreeing sorts of comments, but Tara looked doubtful again. "Why?"

"Because it sucks sitting on your own at lunch," said Liz. "It sucks big time. Take it from us, we both know all about that. We're the expert solo lunch-sitters. So if your friends kick you out, just come and sit with us. Then it won't suck so bad."

I knew there was a reason why I loved Liz so much. All three of us had a little group hug together and then we went inside.

-------

Preparations for the family invasion were in full swing. I ended up with Mom in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Mom had a stone face on. It wasn't her "I'm angry" half-smile stone face. It was a blank, unreadable, unknowable stone face. In fact the whole of Mom was just like a mom-shaped black-hole in the kitchen which sucked in all the light and no sign of any emotion came out. I didn't have a lot to say so I just stayed quiet. Mom was quiet too. It was a very quiet kitchen, just the sound of chopping vegetables. I wondered if maybe Mom was angry about breakfast.

We got to the point where we were done – well, done for the moment anyway. Things were in the oven roasting, things were in pots bubbling, the timer was ticking, nothing to do for a little while except clean up the mess we'd just made and make space for more mess later.

Mom looked around and I guess she was checking off in her head the things that needed to be done. She gave this little half-nod and said, "Good. I'll clean up in here. You find Liz and meet me in Tara's room."

"Tara's room?"

"You heard me, go."

I went.

Tara's bed had been made and her room was all tidy – ready for inspection. Liz and I sat on the bed carefully, trying not to muss it up too much. It felt weird to be sitting in Tara's room like that without Tara actually being there.

Liz was bursting with news.

"I did it! I dressed Angie. Tara said I should have another go, and Dan said it too. They said she had to wear a nice dress for the party so I took her back into her room and helped her change."

"That's awesome. So what is she wearing now?"

"She's wearing that long blue-green satiny princess dress with the silver trim and a little plastic coronet that I found in her dresser."

It sounded like the cheap dress-up Cinderella dress that Angie liked so much. I figured it was good enough for a party. "That sounds brilliant. What has she got on her feet?"

Liz's face dropped. "Nothing! Is that okay? She said she didn't have to wear anything on her feet with that dress."

"There's a pair of little silver slippers that go with the princess dress but Angie doesn't like them so she always kicks them off as soon as she can. She's fine in bare feet as long as she stays inside. So welcome to big sisterhood. For your next initiation test, you have to take her shopping."

Liz's face went through half a dozen emotions. I think she figured out I was joking, but I think she was also running through in her head what it would be like to steer Angie around on a shopping trip.

Mom came striding into the room and closed the door. She had a long dress on a hanger. She pulled the dresser chair over to us and sat on it, draping the dress over her lap.

I was confused. She had come in looking like her usual strong and determined self, but now the confidence was visibly draining away and she was looking maybe just a little bit lost. Then she straightened up in the chair and suddenly I had that black-hole mom back in the room with me again. It was so frustrating when I couldn't tell what she was thinking at all.

"Are those your clothes Tara is wearing this morning? Did you choose them for her?"

I nodded.

"She looks nice, and they follow my rules, so that's good."

I felt a bit relieved because Mom had never actually spelled out what her rules were for Tara's clothing and I'd only been guessing.

"I was going to send her to school tomorrow in the same outfit she wore for dinner yesterday but now I'm not sure."

Mom bit her bottom lip and now I had lost-mom back. "I want to control what she wears but I don't want her to be humiliated and bullied because I sent her to school in something ugly."

Mom was looking away from us, staring off into space. "I never got to go to a proper school when I was your age, but everyone says how cruel teenage girls can be about clothing."

Liz started to ask why Mom didn't go to school but I elbowed her and stopped her from saying it. That was when Mom had been put in the asylum by her father.

"I want your help." Mom's voice was subdued and strange. "I want you to tell me ... I want you to tell me what I should make Tara wear."

Mom was looking at both of us ... and waiting.

I blinked at Mom and then I blinked again.

Liz squeezed my hand and then she started talking confidently. Clothes are something Liz is good at.

"The pants were fine. The top, the University of Life one, it was too wide for its length, to suit Tara. Or it wasn't long enough for its width, if you want to think about it that way. Is it in here?"

I jumped up and took it out of the closet. Liz's eyes went wide at the sight of the empty closet. I don't think it fitted into her idea of how the world worked to see a teenage girl's closet so completely empty.

Liz checked with me that I was the same size as Tara and I agreed, so she made me hold the top up against my chest.

"See, if you turn it inside out and sew up along a line about an inch in from the seams on both sides, it will look like this and that will suit Tara pretty well but still have that loose look. I do this to my t-shirts all the time. It's really easy."

Mom looked convinced, so I sat back down next to Liz and folded the top back up.

"Now, for the party, I picked up this dress at the same thrift shop where I got that outfit."

Mom held the dress up. It was velvet, in a deep forest-green color with a high round neck and ties at the back so the waist and chest could be pulled in to give it extra shape. It was really quite beautiful. I wondered why something so nice would be at a thrift shop.

Liz pulled me to my feet and held the dress up against me. The velvet felt divine where it brushed against my skin. The dress fell in straight, smooth lines to the bottom of my calves and the short sleeves puffed a little before being gathered in the middle of my upper arm.

Liz nodded. "It's maybe a little bit dark for her but not by much. She would need to put her hair up to make it work or have it out and hanging completely loose – and black shoes if she doesn't have any green ones to match – and then maybe a necklace or a pendant or something to brighten it a bit."

"So is it okay?" asked Mom anxiously. I still couldn't get used to this insecure mom.

"Sure," said Liz.

"It's fine," I added.

"Well, good! You can tell her she can wear it when she comes to talk to you. Wait here." Mom stood and left.

Liz and I just sat together on Tara's bed and looked at each other. I know I was feeling a bit confused about stuff and I think she was as well. It was a bit daunting for Mom to be asking us about Tara's clothing like that. And also, I couldn't understand Mom's strange mood and I was not sure what was going on with that.

Tara came into the room and closed the door. She said hi to us, then went to her bedside table and pulled a small paper bag out of it before joining us on the bed. She sat cross-legged in front of us with a serious expression on her face.

"Mom and Dad wanted me to talk about some stuff. I got this talk when I was thirteen so now it's your turn. They set this up yesterday and Mom ran through with me what I'm supposed to say while you guys were at the movie. Liz, your dad knows all about what's going on and he's happy for you to be a part of this. I think Mom wanted me to do it because she thought you might be less embarrassed if it was me and not her. I think she meant to sit in the background and read a book or something while this was happening, but Mom just told me to go ahead and do this without her so here we are."

Liz and I exchanged looks – neither of us had a clue what Tara was talking about.

Tara took a deep breath and then reached into the paper bag. She pulled out three small squares of decorated plastic and dropped them on the bed between us.

"These," said Tara, "are condoms. You can buy boxes of them at drugstores, supermarkets, gas stations wherever ... if all else fails, Dan keeps a supply in his bedside table."

Tara showed us how to open up the packet and how to roll them onto a penis – she had a fake rubber penis in her bag for us to practise on. She talked about how they didn't just prevent pregnancy but also helped protect against diseases – nasty diseases – and things like cervical cancer (which led to her talking about getting pap smears – yech!). She talked about how condoms didn't always work because they might break or they might not get put on properly or they might not get taken out properly afterwards or they might be too old and so on. She said that most of all they didn't work if you forgot to put them on in the first place. She talked about how people went on as if it was the guy's responsibility to supply the condoms but since it was us who ended up pregnant we were more motivated to make sure they happened and happened properly. "In other words," she said, "bring your own condoms."

In one sense it was hard not to laugh because Tara was sounding like such an expert and I knew exactly how much experience Tara had which was only a bit more than me. Okay, so she had sex that one time and they did use condoms so she did have practical experience, but seriously – one time does not make someone an expert. I suspected Tara was sounding like an expert because Mom had gone through it all with her pretty carefully yesterday.

In another sense, it was really good because most of the time it was just like three girls chatting about stuff. Except that I could be pretty sure that Tara was getting her facts right – which isn't always true when three girls get together and chat. It was also good because we didn't need to be careful about what words we used which was handy because you can't really talk about that subject without using certain words.

Tara and Mom and I had always been pretty open with each other about sex sort of stuff, but I think Liz got a bit embarrassed when she was handling the fake penis in front of us. I wasn't so much embarrassed as curious but it was still a bit weird for me to hold that thing in my hand. We all had a few giggles but then we got over that pretty quickly.

At the end, Tara kind of hesitated and looked around her room.

"I think at this point, Mom was going to butt in and give some speech about how just because we're talking about contraception, doesn't mean we should be going out and having sex. Abstinence, which means not doing it at all, is still the best way of not getting pregnant. But sometimes things happen, like ... well, you know." She blushed and looked away for a moment.

Then she shook her head and got on with it. "Mom and Dad said that some schools and some families only ever talk about abstinence and never explain all this other stuff. They said that those kids are just as likely to end up having sex as anyone else but because they're ignorant, they're so much more likely to end up pregnant." She shrugged. "It's pretty stupid."

"Oh, and Liz – your dad said you weren't to even think about having sex until you're thirty, but you should put condoms on the next shopping list." Liz's eyes went wide at that, but then she nodded.

That was it, really. Tara asked if we had any questions but we didn't so that's where that little talk came to an end. We showed Tara the dress she had to wear and she didn't complain even a little bit. She did say "it could've been worse" which was as close to being approval as we were likely to get. We helped her into the dress and tightened the ties around her waist a bit. I thought it looked really good on her, but she wasn't ready to believe me. The velvet felt really nice to run my hand along. Tara went off to The Parents' room to find a pair of shoes because all her shoes were in a box inside their closet.

Liz and I went back to my room to put our party dresses on.

"So what did you think about all that?" I asked Liz, wondering if she'd worked out what was going on.

"I knew some of that stuff but I've never gotten to do that with actual condoms before."

"Me too. I love your dress by the way."

It was a simple apricot-colored, knee-length dress with a black band just under her breasts and pleats coming out from under the band to form a fairly full skirt. Above the band it had a square neckline and then it puffed out to conceal the shape of her chest.

"I have one that's almost the same style."

I dumped what I'd been going to wear onto my bed and pulled out a dress just like it except that mine was a lilac and white patterned dress with a deep violet band across the bottom of my chest. Apart from it being patterned instead of plain and the width of the pleats being different they were the same style. I liked it especially because it puffed out and completely hid the total lack of shape in my chest.

"Awesome, you have to wear it. Then we can be twins. I already found out some of that sex stuff from Dad and from your mom. I was a bit surprised that your mom didn't just do it all herself."

"Yeah! Me too! Until I figured out why. Then I just went along with it."

"Why?"

"All that wasn't about us at all. It was all about Tara. What are you going to do with your hair?"

"Tara? That thing about us being less embarrassed with Tara sounded a bit lame – it's never stopped your mom before. I was going to tie mine back with black ribbon, you should do the same. Only you need a purple one to match your dress. Have you got something? Tara seemed to know her stuff though."

"Yeah and why was that? What about this one?"

"That one is perfect. Because your mom went through it all with her yesterday afternoon. She said that."

"Yeah, yesterday afternoon. The day after she got into trouble at the party and nearly got forced into having sex. Mom could have just sat her down and made her listen to exactly the same talk Tara just gave us, the same one she first heard when she was thirteen. Hang on! Your bow is a bit wonky. But Tara can be a bit proud, sometimes. She might have just sat there and not listened properly because she'd heard it all before."

"So instead your mom made her say it all to us. That meant Tara had to make sure she knew it all before she started. Your mom's pretty sneaky sometimes. Now let me tie your bow."

"My mom is pretty sneaky all the time. But it's clever sneaky and usually it's for a good reason. 'Specially this time. What shoes are you going to wear?"

"I wish I had your hair, it's so long and straight. You can tie it like this and it just falls so nicely. My black pumps that we got at that sale last August. You should wear yours too. Then we'll be totally twins. Do you think Tara knew what was going on?"

"It's too thin – your hair is so much better. Tara's pretty smart. She probably figured it out. But I guess she went along with it anyway because then she could tell herself it wasn't a punishment or anything."

"I hate my hair, it goes all..."

-------

We were both giggling hysterically as I walked out of my room. Liz was giggling too hard to follow me through the door. I forget what started us off. I think it was one of those things where you start and then every little thing just makes it worse – and then you say something that most people probably wouldn't think is funny but because you were giggling when you were talking it comes out weird so you giggle even more – and so on.

I was giggling so much that I wasn't looking where I was going and I walked straight into someone. It was someone big and he put his arms around me to stop me hurting myself. I kind of said "oopsie" and leant into him and kept giggling for maybe two seconds. Then I realized it was Dan that I was leaning against. I gasped in shock.

All my giggles grew legs and ran away, leaving nothing but an empty space where the giggles had been.

I stepped back from him and stood there. I could feel my insides all shaking. I was devastated. I'd just ruined it all. I'd been so good for two days and now I'd touched him. I'd leaned against him. I'd let him hold me. What had I done? I wanted to scream and run away but my legs didn't want to take me.

I think Dan said something like "You look nice." I almost burst out laughing. It seemed so silly that he would be worrying about what I looked like when he must have known how badly I had just ruined both our lives. I think I managed to mumble a thankyou and then I walked on wobbly legs into my room and pushed the door shut behind me. I think I heard Dan say, "Bec, we need to talk..." before the door closed. But it was too late for talking. Way too late!

I leaned my back against the closed door and stared blindly at Liz who was slowly stopping her giggles as she figured out that something was wrong.

I wondered if Dan would be allowed to stay for the rest of my party before They sent him away.

I looked at Liz as she stood in front of me. Liz seemed to be blurred a bit. In fact there were three different Liz-s standing in front of me. All of them had puzzled expressions on their faces.

It was like one of those meetings.

"Hello," my voice was just a whisper, "my name is Rebecca and I'm a..." But then my voice stopped. What was the point? I had failed. I had touched Dan. They would throw me out of the meeting.

I was being hugged by Liz-s, or maybe just one Liz. Over her shoulder was just my blurry room. There was no other Liz in sight so the spare ones must have disappeared.

Liz was hugging me tight. That was nice. But it wasn't the same. I needed to be surrounded by a Dan style hug that would swallow me up – wrap completely around me – engulf me totally and leave no part exposed. Well that wasn't going to happen. Dad could have possibly done that but the best I could hope for was him holding my hand. I leaned against Liz and felt so alone.

>>pause

My memory starts to skip and jump at this point. Remembering what happened next is like watching one of those badly-made animations when things jerk from one pose to the next. My brain was still working, I was doing stuff. I remember doing stuff. I just don't remember the bits in between.

>>skip

I leaned against the door and Liz stood in front of me, clinging onto my hands. She looked really worried. I don't think she understood what was going on. I made my face stop looking sad and that chased her frown away – at least a bit.

I had to plan.

Obviously They already knew what I had done. They always knew everything. But it was kind of an accident – what had happened. Maybe if I tried really hard and stayed right away from Dan then They would see that. Maybe They would believe that it was an accident. Then later on I could beg and plead and apologize and grovel and maybe They wouldn't send him away ... just yet.

I straightened up and made my face smile. I had a plan. I made my lips kiss Liz's cheek. She seemed a bit happier when I did that.

>>skip

Liz and I squeezed together in front of the bathroom mirror putting on lipstick and just a smidge of eye shadow. Not too much, of course, or The Mother wouldn't like it. Liz was making jokes and laughing. I made my face smile.

It was hard to stand properly. It was like I was used to standing on rock and now I was standing on loose gravel that shifted under my feet.

Someone had taken my rock away.

>>skip

Dad stood in front of me. Liz had her arm looped through mine – that was useful, it made it easier to not fall over.

"Your sister had an idea about the family circle. Your mother and I are really embarrassed that we didn't think of this before. I guess it pays having a clever sister sometimes, hey? Because it's your birthday, people will expect you to say something. Tara thought that maybe if people weren't looking at you then it might be easier for you to talk. So we'll try doing things differently. Someone else will talk about you. All you'll have to do when it's your turn is stand there. But in return, when it's Dan's turn, we want you to say something about him. Everyone will be looking at Dan when you're saying it. Do you think you can do that?"

Talking about Dan – people not looking – maybe I could – normally. My voice seemed to have run away, so I wasn't sure I could say anything at all, but if my voice came back then that might work. What an awesome idea. Sometimes Tara has awesome ideas.

I made my head nod at Dad.

>>skip

Angie was in her princess dress and tiara and bare feet. She was so excited about having visitors that she was jumping, jumping, jumping. Her feet just touching the ground long enough to spring her back up into the air again. The bottom hem of her dress flapped up and down in time with her jumping. I hoped she had underwear on. I suppose it didn't really matter because the dress wasn't flapping up that high.

I was standing on my own, feeling stronger, not needing support. I smiled at Angie. It was a real smile – a smile that came from Angie's happiness and excitement. My little angel was saving me. She was like one of those drugs they talk about – the ones that make you feel good. Just by taking a dose of Angie, I was feeling all – I don't know – not miserable, not lost. Angie's just like a drug – except she's not illegal.

>>skip

The living room was clean, organized, empty – waiting for the invasion to start. Angie hovered at the window with her nose pressed to the glass, waiting anxiously for the first glimpse of the first visitor to arrive. Liz and I stood near the front entrance looking at a piece of wall that was normally empty. Mom had mounted my picture of the family from yesterday on a piece of black card and hung it on the wall. Across the other side of the entrance was my picture of Faith and Danielle on a matching piece of black card.

Mom had put my pictures up where everyone could see them. I was embarrassed – my eyes immediately drawn to the flaws.

"You drew this?" asked Liz, standing in front of the family picture.

"Yeah!" My voice was soft but it was starting to work, that was good. It didn't need to be loud anyway because Liz was standing right next to me.

"It's really beautiful," breathed Liz. "I love how you made Dan look like a child."

"Oh!"

I reminded myself that other people could look at my pictures and see what I had been trying to draw and not notice the flaws. That was important to remember. I stood up straighter and my voice came out stronger. "Thanks!"

>>skip

Mom sat on the couch with Angie on her lap. On one side of her sat Nana, on the other side was Tara. All three of them had plates of food in one hand and a fork in the other. Mom fed alternate forkfuls to herself and Angie. For some reason Angie was peacefully letting herself be fed, instead of wanting to do it herself.

Aunt Penny was leaning against the arm of the couch with her back to me, her face hidden. A fork stabbed a piece of potato and lifted it to her lips...

>>pause

Okay, I know that's really weird. It doesn't make sense for that to happen just yet. Nana hadn't even arrived by then and we didn't eat until much later in the day. But that image sits in the middle of my brain at that exact moment in the morning between when Liz looked at my family picture and when Liz looked at my picture of Danielle and Faith. It sits right there, in that exact moment, and refuses to budge.

>>skip

I had to remind Liz who Danielle and Faith were. She looked at the picture and smiled. "Are they, like, lovers or something?"

Dan came into the living room. "Bec? Will you talk to me?"

I grasped Liz's hand and pulled her away from the picture and out of the room.

Dan's voice chased after me. He sounded hurt. "Bec! please! Tell me what I did wrong."

I walked faster, dragging Liz along with me.

"Bec, you have to talk to him."

"No, I can't. I'm not allowed."

What did he mean? What did he do wrong? Nothing! He didn't do anything wrong. It was me. I was wrong. Why would he ask that? He knows. He was there. He agreed. I was wrong.

>> skip

Liz tried to slow me down. She held my hand and dragged like she was an anchor. I broke my hand free and ran down the hallway. It wasn't so easy to run in pumps. I ran through the laundry and out the back door, letting it slam behind me. I wanted to walk around the yard until I'd calmed down, but I couldn't do that with my good shoes on.

I sat on the back step looking out into our yard. I carefully arranged my dress around me so it wouldn't get crumpled by the way I was sitting. I concentrated on my breathing ... in ... out ... in...

Liz came out through the door and sat next to me until I was ready to go back in.

>>skip

It was time to check the things on the stove. Liz and I watched Mom stir things in pots, poke things with forks, move things around in the oven.

Mom took her apron off and hung it up and then went to change into her good clothes.

>>skip

I stood at the open door and held onto Angie, stopping her from running outside. As soon as Aunty Penny was inside, I let Angie go and she took a flying leap into Aunty Penny's arms. I decided not to wait for Angie to finish and I hugged her as well, including Angie in the circle of my arms. Angie had started talking about the balloons and the cake. We listened carefully, but we kissed each other in greeting and I inserted an introduction for Liz into the cracks in Angie's description. My voice was working properly by then. I hugged and welcomed Aunty Ally and introduced Liz to her as well. Then I said hi to Sam, Ally's nine year old son, and made sure he knew who Liz was. They all said hi to each other.

Dad came up to us and Aunt Penny put Angie down. Angie was happy to go and hug Ally. Aunt Penny smiled the biggest, happiest smile and hugged Dad. Dad wrapped his arms around her and swallowed his sister up into the biggest, warmest bear-hug of all time. I found that a bit hard – watching Dad hug his sister like that. I wished he could hug his daughter the same way. I really needed to be hugged like that and Dan wasn't allowed to do it.

I turned and walked away. I wondered why my hands were shaking.

I felt like I was being washed away in raging river.

I needed a rock to cling to before I drowned, but someone had taken my rock away.

>>skip

I lifted the lid of the saucepan, peered through the rising steam and poked pieces of potato with a fork. They were nearly done. Dan walked into the kitchen. I put the lid back on the saucepan, put the fork down and carefully walked out of the kitchen. If Dan was in the kitchen then maybe I shouldn't be. If we weren't in the same room, then I couldn't make any mistakes.

That was hard, walking out of the room like that. But I did it. I was very pleased at how calmly I did it.

>>skip

I sat on the back step looking out into our yard. I concentrated on my breathing ... in ... out ... in...

>>skip

I stood in the family circle, squeezed in between Tara and Liz. They each clutched onto one of my hands, giving me secret support. I knew they could feel me shaking. Our shoulders pressed hard up against each other. There were a lot of people in this circle – my entire extended family. We had to squeeze together to make the circle fit into the living room. Nana was talking, welcoming Liz to the family circle, talking about me. It was my turn next. I had to talk about Dan. I licked my lips and swallowed. I wasn't sure if I could do it?

>>skip

Everyone turned to look at Dan. It was just like magic. All I could see was the backs of people's heads – or the sides of their faces. I think I was the only one not looking at him.

"Dan played his last game of the season on Friday night..." Little bits of my brain did cartwheels in excitement. It was working. My voice was working. I quickly described the game and then I ran through his stats for the game and the season. I hadn't intended to do that but I was so excited that I was talking and nobody was looking at me. After the game, when I'd been walking around on the field, the scoreboard had been flashing through the stats of each player. Dan's had only been up there for five seconds, but that was enough. I remembered it clearly – his picture with the numbers next to it; touchdowns, completions, yards, blocks. Then I mentioned his plan to go to State and it was over. I had done it.

I was so happy.

And not once did I look at Dan – not even by accident.

>>skip

Aunt Penny said that she and Aunty Ally had some exciting news. Ally was pregnant again. They were going to have another baby. Sam looked like he wasn't sure if that was good news or not. Sam had grown a bit since last time I'd seen him. That can't be completely true because last time was probably only a month ago, but he'd grown a bit since the last time I looked at him properly. He was filling out, becoming stockier, more solid. His face was more defined.

A little version of me stood in the back of my brain and scratched her head. There was something I was supposed to notice – something I was supposed to see. My brain was still working, but it was so hard to think clearly.

>>skip

I held my plate carefully and arranged my dress as I sat low on the coffee table. Sitting like that, I had to be careful not to flash my panties at the people in front of me.

In front of me, on the couch, Nana smiled to see me and then she turned her attention back to the food on her own plate. Beside her, Mom had Angie in her princess dress sitting sideways on her lap. Mom used her fork to alternate feeding herself and Angie. Angie's tiara was a bit crooked. Beside her sat Tara, looking elegant in her velvet green dress, but the plate on her lap kind of spoiled the elegance a bit. She stared off over my shoulder as she chewed on her fork.

Aunt Penny was leaning against the arm of the couch with her back to me, her face turned away from me, a fork stabbed a piece of potato and lifted it to her lips...

I reached down beside me and picked up my glass from where I had sat it on the coffee table. I brought it to my lips and tilted it to take a sip, but then I stopped myself. Suspiciously, I lifted the glass and held it up to the light so that I could look through the liquid...

>>pause

I don't know why, but that image of the five of them on the couch is one of the strongest memories that I have of that entire afternoon. The weird thing is that it doesn't seem to know where in the afternoon it belongs. It just pops up in odd places and wriggles, trying to decide if it belongs there. It's like the Goldilocks of memories, trying the different places to sit, trying to find the spot that is just right.

That place isn't right either.

>>skip

Liz and I sat next to each other on the couch. Nana sat in the armchair near us and was in the middle of telling Liz how important school was. She did this by telling us the story of how when she was a girl, her older sister had failed the entrance exam to get into college. Nana had passed it easily but her parents had refused to allow her to go to college because her older sister wasn't going. "It would create jealousy," her parents had said. Nana was smart but her older sister wasn't. I figured her parents were pretty stupid too by the sound of it. Nana had waited until she left home and then put herself through night-school.

Nana finished her story and turned to talk to Sam.

Liz giggled to herself and whispered in my ear.

"I like your Nana, she's awesome. But her accent is so strong. It's a bit hard to understand her. Now I can see how your accent is just a softer version of hers. She sounds just like the Beatles. Did you know that when you talk to her, your accent gets stronger?"

"The Beatles were from Liverpool, we're from Preston," I whispered back to her. "The two places are, like, forty miles apart – it's a totally different accent. Anyway, you've met Nana before."

"Yeah, but I forgot how awesome she is."

Liz went on about something else, but I'm not sure what she was saying. I was looking at Sam. It was like there was something I was supposed to remember about him.

Dan walked into the living room and I quickly stood up and led Liz out of the room. My hands were shaking. "Let's go for a walk." I said, but I don't think Liz heard me.

>>skip

Liz dragged me by the hand up to Tara.

"I think there's something wrong with Bec."

Tara snorted. "There's always something wrong with Bec."

"No! I'm serious. I think there's something wrong."

I just stood there.

It was like watching a movie with the characters walking around and saying their lines, except I got to stand right in the middle of it.

I just stood there and watched the movie.

>>skip

"There's a phone call for you." Dad handed me the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is that Rebecca?" It was a man's voice – a very loud man's voice.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. We seem to have a poor line. I can hardly hear you. This is Mr DiMartino speaking."

"Oh."

"I have just had a very interesting conversation with a young woman who visited to return my daughter's purse. Apparently she found it whilst tidying her room after that appalling party. I hadn't realized until I spoke to her the extent to which you were personally responsible for extracting my daughter from her predicament."

"Oh."

"I would like to invite you and your brother to dine with us tomorrow evening so that I can thank you properly."

"Oh."

"Would that be convenient to you?"

"Um."

"Excellent. I'll look forward to seeing you both then. I shall expect you at seven."

"But..."

>>skip

Dad had the three of us – Tara, Liz and me – in The Parents' room. We sat lined up in a row on the side of the bed while Dad leaned against the back of a chair. Mom sat in front of the dresser, pretty much ignoring us. I know she was listening but I don't think she said a word the entire time we were in the room. She was doing her hair and fixing her makeup in the mirror and putting on her earrings and stuff.

Oh wait! That must mean this happened before everyone arrived.

Dad waited until he had our full attention.

"This is mostly because of Tara, but it's something all of you need to know. This isn't a punishment, it's a lesson. Is everyone clear about that?"

We all nodded. Three wise monkeys, sitting in a row!

"Have any of you heard of a drug called Rohypnol?"

I think all three of us looked at him blankly. So much for being wise monkeys!

"It's also called the date-rape drug."

Liz stirred next to me and said, "Oh! People get raped and stuff. I don't know much about it though."

"Apparently it makes a person relaxed and willing to go along with just about anything. It also wipes their memory fairly thoroughly. It's clear and tasteless and highly illegal. It has been slipped into girls' drinks at bars and parties. They wake up hours later having absolutely no memory of what has happened. Usually they've been raped; sometimes even by the boy they were on a date with. That's why it's called the date-rape drug. Alcohol gets used the same way, for the same purpose, for the same reasons and probably more often because it's easier to get."

"That's disgusting," said Tara. "Boys are such pigs."

"What it means for you three, and every other girl growing up in this day and age, is that you have to learn to be careful about what you drink at parties. You have to watch your drink and not put it down where anybody can put something in it. You have to pour your own drinks. And never let other people bring you drinks that have already been poured." He said that last bit extra loud and directly at Tara.

Tara hung her head. That was exactly what she and the other girls had done at the party and she knew it.

"Obviously a family party like today is pretty safe, but we wanted to give you practise at being careful. So I have a secret ally who has some of those little packets of salt like the ones they supply at fast-food places. If I or my secret ally sees one of you not watching your drink today, we're going to dump a packet of salt in it. Your mission today is to avoid getting drugged."

I smiled to myself. Dad had been talking with a noticeable Lancastrian lilt to his voice. He usually has a hint of a South London sort of accent. That meant he'd been talking to Nana. I had a pretty good idea who his secret ally was.

>>skip

I had an image of Sam carrying a ball stuck in my head. It was as if it wanted to be turned into a picture. But a bit of my brain was saying "But I already drew that picture!" But that couldn't be right, because I hadn't drawn a picture of Sam since he was a baby – and that had been in crayons.

>>skip

Aunt Penny and Aunt Ally stopped Liz and me in the hallway. They wanted to know if they could see the artwork in my bedroom. I shrugged.

I turned to Liz. "Did I introduce you to my aunts before? This is Aunt Penny. She's my father's sister. She's a lesbian. And this is Ally, her partner. Ally is bisexual."

"Bec, I'm shocked," came a voice from behind me. It was Dad. I hadn't realized that he was there. "That's no way to introduce your aunts. How would you like it if I introduced you to my friends like that? Do you really want me saying, 'This is my daughter Bec, she's a lesbian'?"

I knew what Dad was trying to say, but I decided to take his words a different way. My brain flashed through images of Danielle and the scar on her wrist and how terrible it had been at home for her.

"Dad, would you really do that for me? That would be so awesome. I would be so happy to have a dad who could introduce me like that and be proud of me."

Penny and Ally giggled at the look in Dad's face. He shook his head and looked at me more carefully.

"What are you saying, honey? Are you saying that you really are ... are you saying that you are a lesbian?"

"Oh, no Dad, I was just teasing. I like kissing boys too much." I shrugged. "I might be bisexual though. That's why it was important for Liz to know about my aunts."

"Kissing boys? When have you been ... no ... don't answer that. I was there."

"Seriously, Dad. The football game doesn't count. That was just silliness. I'm talking about on the bus home, with Lance Jenkins. We made out for just about the whole trip. It was awesome." Dad's face was going through all these changes. It was kind of fun to watch.

"On the bus? But isn't there supposed to be a chaperone? Professor somebody – where was she?"

"Professor Greenall? I didn't want to kiss her. She's like, seriously old. That would be kind of gross. No, Dad. Kissing Lance was a much better idea."

Dad spluttered and then held his hands up in surrender. He turned and walked away, shaking his head. The four of us had a little giggle.

Aunt Penny shook her head at her departing brother. "That was mean of you to tease your father like that. But it was funny too. I love my brother dearly, and we would both do absolutely anything in the world for each other, but he can be a bit of a dork sometimes."

>>skip

Liz leaned into me as we both looked down at the birthday cake sitting in the center of the loaded table. I was amazed that we couldn't actually hear the table groaning from holding up all the food.

"How come there are so many candles on your cake? There's more than twenty and you're only thirteen."

"There's twenty-six. I won a bet with Mom so she doubled the number of candles."

I felt Liz shaking her head next to my shoulder. "Your family is so weird."

>>pause

I know this is all out of order but I can't help it. I have all these memories of things that happened but they are all in little pieces, just fragments of memories, all jumbled up and confused. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get them to fit together in any way that makes sense.

I feel as if it should be easy to line them up in the order they happened. For some reason, they just don't want to go.

I think there are some pieces missing too.

>>skip

I felt like the tour guide in an art gallery. Except that the gallery was my bedroom and the art was made up of naked pictures of me. Aunt Penny and Aunt Ally walked around the room and looked at each picture in turn. They oohed and ahhhed at each new discovery like the audience at a fireworks display. Liz and I stood in the center of the room and watched them look at the paintings. I guess I had kind of gotten used to all the pictures by now but having someone new look at them made me look at them again with new eyes.

A part of my brain was looking at the paintings with new eyes. Another part of my brain was puzzling away at a mystery.

>>skip

Liz and I had politely waited until everyone else had helped themselves before selecting some food for ourselves. There was so much to choose from. We each took a plate and dished out little portions of just about everything. Then we poured ourselves drinks and took our food and drink through to the living room to find somewhere to sit.

The only spare space was the coffee table so Liz and I perched on that. We put our drinks down behind us and balanced our plates carefully in one hand. Everything was deliberately designed as fork food so it wasn't too hard to eat with a plate in one hand and a fork in the other.

In front of me, Tara sat on the couch and chewed on her fork as she stared off somewhere over my shoulder. Next to her, Mom had Angie sitting sideways on her lap. Angie's bare feet hung in midair and kicked back and forth, while Mom steered a forkful of food into Angie's open mouth. Next to Mom, Nana saw me looking at her and smiled at me before turning her attention back to the plate of food on her lap.

Aunt Penny was leaning against the arm of the couch with her back to me. I could just see her fork lifting a piece of potato towards her mouth...

>>pause

That image of the women from my family is stuck so strongly in my brain. Earlier this year, Mom gave me a book to read about The Mother Goddess. Apparently she has three faces which she shows at different times; the maiden, the mother and the crone – the crone really means wise-woman and not witch like I first thought. I have in my head a painting of that scene of Nana, Mom with Angie and Tara on the couch – wise-woman, mother and maiden, it's just perfect – I'll paint them eating, just as they were, and underneath I'll put the caption: "Even The Mother Goddess needs to eat!"

Aunt Penny is in the painting too, with her back turned, because The Mother Goddess has a fourth face, one she never shows. It's the woman of mysteries, the woman of secrets...

>>skip

Aunty Penny and Ally had discovered the two paintings on the closet door. They were discussing how the style was different from the others when Liz explained how those weren't Mom's paintings like everything else in the room but they were the ones that I had done. They both immediately started saying how much they liked this or that aspect of them.

I reminded myself that sometimes people could look at a painting and see what I was trying to paint and not notice the flaws that seemed so obvious to me. That was an important thing to remember.

I stood up a bit straighter.

"Congratulations on your new baby, Aunties."

They both smiled and thanked me.

"So who is the father of this one?"

"Ah!" said Ally, patting herself low on the stomach. "This little one will have two mothers instead of a father, just like Sam."

"But biologically, did it have the same father as Sam?"

"That's none of your business, is it?" She said it with a smile and a wave to take the tension in the room.

It didn't take away my tension.

I felt my legs start to shake and I suddenly had to sit down on the bed before I fell down.

My brain had figured it out.

>>skip

I reached down behind me and picked up my glass. My eyes were still held by the scene in front of me as I lifted my drink to my lips. I stopped myself and suspiciously lifted the glass up to the light so that I could look through it. There were a large number of specks floating around in it and a little pile of undissolved crystals at the bottom of the glass.

I looked at Nana suspiciously but she was concentrating on her food. Anyway, she was right in front of me all the time and hadn't been anywhere near my drink. I looked over my shoulder for Dad but he was over on the other side of the room talking to Ally and Sam. Dad had his hand on Sam's shoulder. Nobody was looking at me.

Then suddenly everyone was looking as Liz coughed and spluttered into her drink beside me. She pulled a face at me and waved her glass in the air.

"Ugh. I think my drink got spiked."

"Come on," I said and gestured towards the kitchen. We picked up our plates and glasses and retreated into the kitchen to pour ourselves fresh drinks.

"Congratulations, your memory just got wiped out! Lucky I was with you or who knows what might have happened to you."

Liz was rinsing her mouth out with fresh water.

"I don't think I like this lesson."

I nodded. It was about the same as every other Lesson I'd ever had. If you got it right it was fun, but if you got it wrong it left a bad taste in your mouth.

My brain was stuck on the image of Dad with his hand on Sam's shoulder.

>>skip

Liz and Ally and Aunt Penny stood around me as I sat on the bed.

"But it is my business, isn't it?" I whispered.

My brain flashed through images like an out-of-control slide show.

Flash: Dad hugging Aunty Penny.
Flash: The child-Dan running in a circle in my picture.
Flash: Penny with her back to me – a woman of secrets.
Flash: Sam, looking just like the child-Dan I had drawn, standing next to Dad.
Flash: Penny saying, "We would do absolutely anything for each other."

I peered through the flashing images at Aunt Penny and Ally.

"So! Will I have a second little half-brother? Or will it be a little half-sister this time?"

The expressions on their faces – they looked like Paddington, caught with a paw in the cookie jar – they both looked so guilty!

I sat on the bed. My voice dropped away and melted into the carpet. My muscles locked into place – freezing me in place. Inside my head, a little voice was screaming.

I watched in horror as the images flashed in front of me.
I watched in horror as my family dissolved around me.

Flash: Dad standing, pleading.
Flash: Mom, furious, accusing.
Flash: Dad broken, admitting.
Flash: Mom pointing, crying.
Flash: Dad packing, leaving.
Flash: Mom collapsing, sobbing.
Flash:
Flash: Me frozen, watching.
Flash:
Flash:
Flash:

They tried to talk to me but I couldn't respond.
They tried to move me but I was locked solid.
Time passed.
They took away my bedroom and put up soft white walls instead.
They took away my pretty dress and gave me a long grey nightshirt.
They tried to talk to me but I couldn't respond.
They tried to move me but I was locked solid.
Time passed.
They put a tube in my arm and hung a plastic bag on a stand.
They shone lights in my eyes and stuck wires in my head.
Time passed.
My body matured.
They gave me food and I ate.
They pushed me out of my room and I walked.
They asked me questions and I nodded.
Time passed.
My body grew.
They gave me colored paints and I used my fingers to draw stick figure families.
Time passed.
They decided I was cured and pushed me out into the world.
They never found my voice. They never thought of looking in the carpet.

Flash:

I sat there, blinking in the light.

Liz and Ally and Aunt Penny surrounded me, the way they'd stood around me in my bedroom so many years ago. I looked down and saw that I was wearing my thirteen year old body. It was still wrapped in my lilac and white patterned dress – I thought that had been lost so long ago, but there it was – back on my body.

I blinked in confusion. Then I understood.

My brain had shown me the future. It hadn't happened yet, but it was going to.

That little person was trapped inside my head, screaming, screaming.

I stood up, wobbling a bit as I tried to adjust to being thirteen again.

"I hope it was worth it," I whispered. "I hope it was worth destroying my family so you could have one of your own."

I pushed my way past them and out of my room. They were calling after me – something about having it all wrong, but I covered my ears and staggered away from them. I stumbled into the living room. My throat was dry from that little person inside my skull screaming, screaming.

I saw my drink on the coffee table. I picked it up and sipped. It tasted disgusting – like seawater only twice as bad. I held the glass up to the light and saw the fluid was thick with salt. There was a layer of sludge in the bottom of the glass that was nearly half an inch thick. I put the glass back down on the coffee table and heard quiet chortles from all around the room.

A little bit of my brain noticed that every adult in the room was laughing – not mean laughing but enjoying a joke laughing. That bit of my brain decided that they were all Dad's secret allies. Probably they all had handfuls of little tubes of salt hidden away in their pockets or wherever. And it looked like every single one of them had made a contribution to my drink. I couldn't cope with their silly lessons. My world was falling apart – I didn't even have any rocks to cling to – and they thought it was funny to put salt in my drink.

The chortling was dying away – probably because they could see the tears streaming down my cheeks. An impulse sent me running for a place of safety, a place of comfort. At the last second, I realized that I was running straight at Dan. I screamed. No! Not that! I managed to swerve but I ran straight into the wall. My head hit hard and I staggered back.

Dan called my name and reached out for me.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" I screamed into his face. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

I staggered back from him, back into the silence of the room.

Dad had a hand out towards me, but I avoided him.

Tara stood beside the couch. Her mouth open in shock. She looked so beautiful in that green velvet dress. She should close her mouth though, that kind of spoilt the look.

Mom sat on the couch – watching with a surprised, confused expression on her face.

"I didn't mean to!" I explained to her – pleaded with her – begged her. "It was just an accident!"

I saw my spiked drink sitting on the coffee table.

What did that drug do? It wiped out memory.

That was what I needed – to forget, to forget everything.

I scooped up the glass and swallowed a mouthful, then another, then another.

It really was disgusting.

Nothing happened.

I stood, swaying and stared at my father – to help his sister have a family, he'd betrayed my mother, betrayed his wife, betrayed his family, betrayed me.

"Why?" I whispered.

Without Dan, without Dad, what was left?

Then the drug in my drink finally did its work.

My memory exploded, shattering into pieces – scattering images and thoughts and feelings randomly around inside my head. Weird bits of memory flew off on bizarre angles back through time and lodged in the wrong places like shards of glass driven into a wall by a tornado.

At last, I felt my memories splintering and dissolving into blissful darkness.

I decided I liked that drug, what was it called? I couldn't remember.

My legs folded under me and I started to fall.

Somehow, in the darkness of my mind, I sensed someone catch me and fall with me before my head could hit the floor.

My head rested on velvet softness. Arms wrapped around me.

"Shhh!" said a voice in my ear.

I shhhed.



-------

Chapter 37: Sunday Over A Rainbow

I returned to my senses long enough to roll to the side and throw up. I felt the urgent need to roll because otherwise my vomit would have gone all over Tara's lovely velvet dress. I felt Nana's firm hands guiding my head over a bowl and I think Tara was holding my hair out of the way.

I lay back on Tara's velvet-covered lap and tried to figure out what was going on. My eyes had been closed the entire time. I didn't need to open them. I knew what I would see and I wasn't ready to deal with that. Also I had a mystery to solve and keeping my eyes closed helped.

I knew who I was — Rebecca Louise Freeman, age thirteen years and zero days. I knew I was lying on the carpet in our living room. I knew it was my birthday. I knew that just about my entire extended family was in the room staring at me — that's the other reason I didn't want to open my eyes. I knew I'd just had hysterics in front of everyone and then collapsed.

The one thing I was drawing a complete blank on was ... why.

I looked inside my brain and the place where my memories should be looked like the film you see after a tornado has ripped through a cheap housing tract. There was this wide stretch where there was just rubble — broken bits of wood and litter just piled up on top of each other. A little girl in a lilac party dress with a purple ribbon in her hair picked through the rubble. Hey wait, that's me! She bent and picked up something from amongst the debris. "Found it," she yelled. Then she held up a half-squashed birthday cake with way too many candles mashed into the icing.

I remembered having a party breakfast, having a talk with Tara about condoms and getting ready for the party with Liz. After that — nothing!

From somewhere out there I heard Dad's voice, sounding all distorted and fuzzy.

"Can anyone tell me what's going on?"

"I think I can." I think that was Aunt Penny's voice. She sounded like she was crying. I wondered why. "But can we not do this in front of everyone?"

"Here you are, Nana," said Sam's voice close to my head.

A second later, I felt a warm, wet cloth washing around my mouth. Then it went away and a second cloth dabbed and wiped and pressed around a spot high on my forehead. The place being dabbed at immediately started feeling a bit sore and sticky as soon as I thought about it.

I wanted to listen to what Aunt Penny had to say. I wanted to find out what was happening. I wanted to know why I'd had hysterics and collapsed. I wanted to know why ... I knew there was another 'why' but I had no clue what that was about.

I felt Tara's hand brushing a strand of hair back out of my face. "Shh! Everything's going to be okay," she whispered.

I sure hoped so.

A weight kneeled by my side and my hand was picked up and held.

"How's her head? Should we call an ambulance?"

It was Dan's voice. Some automatic piece of my brain started ringing alarms. I tried to pull my hand away but my muscles weren't obeying my brain. In desperation, I fled into the back of my head and looked for somewhere to hide.

Right at the back I found an image of our couch standing on one end and leaning against the back of my skull. Nana, Mom and Tara sat sideways on the couch, still eating from their plates — apparently unaware that sitting on a couch that was standing on one end broke all the rules of gravity.

Angie had crawled down from Mom's lap and was running around in the debris, picking up little packets of salt that were scattered everywhere.

Poking out from under the end of the couch were Aunt Penny's legs, with a pair of ruby slippers on her feet.

Now that was weird.

I crawled into the tiny, dark space behind the couch and I curled up into a little ball.

Maybe I could hide here for a while.



-------

Chapter 38: Sunday Night

I knew things had changed even before I opened my eyes. I wasn't lying on a carpet anymore. My head was on a pillow instead of Tara's lap. I had blankets over me and a warm body lying on each side of me. The sound of steady breathing told me that the bodies were alive, so I guess that was a plus. Also I could feel something wrapped tightly around each of my wrists — that was a bit weird.

I opened my eyes and looked around. I was lying on the floor of my room. From the feel of it, we were lying on the thin foam mats we used for camping. The door was open and a light was on in the hallway so enough light spilled into the room that I could make out some details of what was around me. With just a tiny bit of wriggling and moving my head around, I figured out that it was Tara and Liz that were lying next to me. They were both way off in dreamland. We were lined up on the floor with our heads pointing at my closet doors and our feet pointing at my bookcase. It's just as well that none of us is very tall or our feet would have been filed away on the bottom shelf in between Harry Potter and Enid Blyton.

The wrapping around my wrists was puzzling me. I pulled my arms up and out from under the blankets so that I could see — or at least I tried to. Both arms moved about six inches and then they stopped. They were tied to something. I pulled a bit more firmly and my arms moved again but I was dragging something — or possibly two somethings, one on each wrist.

I used my hands to pull the blankets down so that I could see what was going on. Wide strips of material — offcuts from curtains Mom had made for Angie's room — were tied around my wrists. One of my wrists was tied to Tara's wrist and the other was tied to Liz's wrist. I had about six inches of slack material on each side so I could lift my arms up and have two other arms dangling underneath like string puppets.

What was most fascinating was that I could move their arms around quite a bit and not wake up either Tara or Liz. I played puppets for a short while before I relaxed my arms and tried to think about the bigger picture. Straight away I came up with several interesting questions.

Why was Liz still here? As far as I knew, Liz was going home straight after the party and it was clearly after the party.

Why was Tara in my room with me?

Why were we all lying on my bedroom floor?

But the most puzzling question of all was also the most obvious one.

Why was I tied up?

I stared up at the ceiling but there didn't seem to be any answers up there. I looked inside my skull for an explanation. That's when I found my memories of the afternoon. Apparently little bits of my brain had been busy while I wasn't paying attention. All those memories had been picked up and glued together. There were bits missing and they weren't really in any proper order so it took me a while to follow through and figure out what I could about what was going on. My memories ended at the point where I collapsed in the living room — oh, plus the bit where I vomited.

They didn't explain why I was lying on the floor of my bedroom, securely tied between my sister and my best and only friend. But they did explain why I collapsed in the first place. It was all there; my father's betrayal, my mother's indifference, my brother's isolation. The tears came gushing back.

I didn't realize it immediately but apparently my sobbing achieved something my puppet playing had failed to do. I woke up my sister and my friend.

I slowly became aware of them holding me and stroking me and whispering soothing but ridiculous comments into my ears. I use the word ridiculous because they were saying things like "everything's going to be okay" when that was so obviously the opposite of what everything was going to be.

At the same time, I was kind of aware that they were having a whispered argument with each other. I couldn't actually tell who was saying what, but in a sense it didn't matter.

"Don't cry sweetie. How long has she been awake?"

"I don't know. I just woke up."

"Everything's going to be okay. Why were you asleep? It was your turn to watch her."

"No it wasn't, it was your turn. Don't cry."

"How could it be my turn? We're here, Bec. You were supposed to wake me when it was my turn."

"I did wake you. We're both here."

"We both love you. Well obviously you didn't."

"Yes I did. You spoke and everything. Come on sweetie, stop crying."

"Shhh!!! Were my eyes open?"

"I don't know. There, there! I didn't know I had to make you open your eyes. Hush now, Becky."

I couldn't help myself. In between the sobs, I started laughing.

"You guys are such idiots. What are you arguing about?"

Well that stopped the argument. They were both immediately hugging me and giving me little kisses and assuring me that I was okay.

"I'm not okay. But I do want to know one thing. What's going on? Why are we all tied together?"

The little kisses stopped and there was silence for a second. Then Tara and Liz both said, "That's two things," at exactly the same time. That made all of us laugh, even me. Have you ever laughed when you were crying? Tears and stuff spray everywhere. It gets really messy.

"We have things to tell you — good things." That was Tara speaking. "But can we do it out in the kitchen?"

"This needs to be more like a sitting around the table type of conversation, than a whispering in the dark in your bedroom type of conversation," added Liz.

"Okay," I said — the tears had more or less stopped. "But can you untie me and let me clean my face? I feel all gross."

We got up and then went over and sat on the edge of the bed. Tara managed to undo the tie around her wrist but the one linking me to Liz was knotted too tightly and we couldn't get it undone. We decided to wait until we got to the kitchen where the better light might help us and if all else failed — there was always the scissors.

Tara had been wearing one of her t-shirt nighties, and once she untied herself from me she slipped a robe over the top. Liz and I were both wearing pairs of my flannel pyjamas. We couldn't exactly wear robes properly while our wrists were tied together, but Tara retrieved robes from my closet and slung them over our shoulders while Liz and I used one hand each to dab at my eyes and cheeks with tissues.

The living room light was on so we looked into the room. Dad was sleeping in his armchair with the back tilted down and the footrest out and a blanket draped over him. His head was tilted back and that probably explained why he was snoring more than usual. Mom was standing on a chair and dusting the frame around her painting of us girls. She was still wearing her good clothes but had an apron tied around her.

"Mom, what are you doing? It's the middle of the night," I whispered, trying not to wake Dad.

Mom ignored me and kept dusting.

Tara, Liz and I were standing right next to Mom by this stage.

"Mom!" Tara and I both called out in unison, still quietly but probably louder than either of us intended.

Mom still ignored us and I felt things click into place in my head as suddenly several things I'd noticed over the last day or so made more sense. I turned to Tara just as she turned to me. "Aaah!" we both said as we both seemed to understand at the same time.

"What?" asked Liz. We turned to her, just as her eyes widened and she went, "Ohhh!"

Tara went over to Dad. I stayed with Mom. Liz stayed with me of course, she didn't have much choice. Steering around the house while tied together was just a bit weird.

Tara grabbed Dad's shoulder and shook him gently several times. He came awake suddenly with a startled yelp. Once she was sure he was alert, Tara started talking.

"Dad, it's the middle of the night and Mom's still cleaning. We think she's having another episode. Maybe you can get her to go to bed. You should go to bed too. You'll end up with a sore back if you sleep like that all night."

Dad stood up out of the armchair and came over to me. I flinched back from him and looked down at the floor. Dad used a finger to tilt my head up until I was looking him in the eyes. "How are you, honey? Are you okay? Have the girls explained things to you yet?"

I looked at him suspiciously. "No Dad. We're going into the kitchen to talk."

It was obvious from the way Dad and the girls were behaving that they were confident that once something was explained to me that I wouldn't be so upset. My brain started sorting through some possible explanations of what was going on. The first option I considered was that I was wrong and Sam wasn't Dad's son. I didn't think that was very likely. I started thinking of other possibilities. Inside my head, I flipped open a notepad and started making a list.

"Go on then, I'll look after your mother. Then I might join you in the kitchen."

Dad's eyes went to the cloth joining my wrist to Liz's. He looked back into my face with an eyebrow raised. I shrugged at him and headed for the kitchen, towing Liz behind me like she was a faithful puppy on a lead.

We sat around one corner of the kitchen table with Tara between Liz and me so that our wrists were sitting on the table in front of her. She went to work on the knot, trying to loosen it.

My mind flashed to Mom having her episode. "Well that explains why Mom has been all different for the last couple of days."

Tara looked at me with a curious expression on her face. "What do you mean?"

"She was heading towards an episode. That explains why she's been acting all weird."

Tara looked puzzled. "I don't know what you're talking about. Mom's been normal."

"Oh! Maybe it was just me then. I thought Mom was being strange since maybe late Saturday night, definitely Sunday at breakfast."

Both Liz and Tara were shaking their heads at me, so I decided to change the subject.

"So, first things first! What's with the whole tie Bec up game? Why were you taking turns guarding me?"

Tara and Liz looked at each other. Then Liz jumped into the silence.

"That's really starting with the last thing first, but we can do that. You were all hysterical. Your dad was worried about you. He told us to watch you. He told us not to leave you alone for a second until someone had explained things to you. So we decided to take turns sitting up with you. One of us was supposed to be awake when you woke up." She glared at Tara when she said that. It was that friendly kind of arguing they were doing so I wasn't too worried.

"Tying you like this was my idea," broke in Tara. "Liz told me about how when she was here this week, you were getting up and wandering around the house in the middle of the night. She'd like, go to sleep holding you and wake up and you were missing. So I figured if we accidentally both went to sleep at the same time..." At this point they both glared at each other, " ... then you wouldn't be able to sneak away without us noticing."

During all this, Tara had been trying to undo the knot linking me to Liz. "I don't think I'm going to get this. I'll grab the scissors and cut you free."

"Why don't you just leave it? It can be a kind of symbolic link between Liz and me. Our friendship binds us together or something. We can cut ourselves loose in the morning. Or maybe we could go to school like this. That would be awesome." That idea produced a few giggles. Then we shifted around a bit so that Liz was next to me and Tara was on my other side.

I was still curious about their desire to watch over me. "Okay, so tying me up makes sense in a twisted sort of way, but why was Dad so uptight about getting you guys to watch over me?"

"Well," answered Liz, "Dan told us all about how you met up with that Danielle girl on Thursday night and how you found out that she'd tried to kill herself. He said you completely freaked out about it. Dan said it was obvious that somewhere along the lines, you'd thought about ... you know."

It was like standing in a cold shower — or maybe it was like having a chest of ice-water thrown over me at a football game. I happen to know exactly what that feels like. My entire body just froze up and my skin tried to curl inside out.

"Oh!"

Suddenly Tara was crying big tears and hugging me hard. "I was a mess. I was hugging you and sobbing. I don't want to lose you Becky. You can't die, sis, you just can't."

"But..."

Liz was crying too. I quickly became the meat in a Bec sandwich, well-seasoned with a salt-water dressing.

"But I promised. Dan should have finished the story. I promised I wouldn't."

Liz popped her head up and was suddenly not crying but her left cheek still glistened with tears. I think her right cheek was dry because she'd had it pressed up against me and my robe had absorbed all the wetness.

"Oh, your dad said that. I think he must've heard the story before 'cause otherwise I figure he would've been all hysterical too. I mean Tara was fully curled up over the top of you and hanging on to you like she thought you were already ... well, you know. I was like, upset too, but I was all, 'that can't be right.' I mean, you were all happy and stuff all weekend, so I didn't think you would ... you know, but still I was crying my eyes out. So anyway, your dad was like, 'but Bec promised she wouldn't do that, ' and then he was like, making Dan tell us the rest of the story."

Liz was doing quite a good imitation of Tara being hysterical and of Dad talking and of herself thinking. It was really funny, but I don't think she meant it to be. She continued the story without seeming to take a breath, launching into even better imitations of Dan and Tara talking.

" ... and Dan picks Tara right up off the ground and sits her on the coffee table and then he picks me up too — Oh My God he's sooo strong — and he sits me next to Tara and then he's like 'Danielle made Bec promise she wouldn't do that and Bec promised twice, and then I made her promise again, ' and Tara was like, 'so what? Bec's all collapsed and hysterical and stuff, ' and Dan was like, 'Tara, you're not thinking. This is Bec we're talking about. She promised three times that she wouldn't hurt herself, ' and Tara was like..."

Tara took over at this point and either deliberately or unconsciously, she copied Liz's breathless storytelling style, including an exaggerated imitation of herself talking — with extra hand waving — I was finding the whole thing just hysterically funny.

"I was like, 'Doh! Of course! I'm so stupid. Bec made a promise! A serious promise! She made it three times!' and I'm all relieved and stuff and I'm all about how I can't imagine you ever going back on something like that. So I'm all crying again and stuff but this time it was like, happy crying and I was hugging Dan like I could squeeze the stuffing out of him."

By this time, I really was laughing. The crying had pretty much stopped, but there was still a huge knot inside me where my stomach should be.

" ... and then I was hugging Dan too and that was pretty much that," concluded Liz. Now that telling the emotional part was over, she more or less returned to talking normally — well normally for Liz anyway. "You know, I think I'm totally in love with your brother. I think I want to marry him."

I was still laughing. "Oh yes! That would be so awesome. If you marry him then you get to be my sister for real. And also I get to be bridesmaid at your wedding."

"Can I be a bridesmaid too?" pleaded Tara. "Please, please, please? 'Cause otherwise I'm going to have to fight Angie for the flower girl job and she pulls hair like you wouldn't believe."

We all laughed at that. It occurred to me that we had gotten seriously off track. The girls were supposed to be telling me something that would make me feel better. Hey wait! I was feeling better. Hmm!

"We seem to have gotten sidetracked. You were supposed to be telling me some stuff."

"Oh, yeah!" said Tara. "Apparently we have a little brother we didn't know about — until you figured it out, that is."

"I thought so. They admitted it then?" In my head, I pulled out that notepad I'd been writing on and I ruled a line through that first option on my list. I wasn't sure if I should be pleased because I hadn't been wrong — I hate being wrong — or upset because I was right. I decided to try putting off being upset a bit longer until I'd heard what they had to say.

"I'd like to handle this one, if you don't mind girls." It was Dad. He was standing in the doorway, wearing the long fancy dressing-gown that we'd teamed up and bought for him last Christmas.

Dad sat down across the table from us. Then he reached across the table and clasped my hands in both of his. I had Tara hugging me from one side and Liz leaning against me from the other side and Dad holding my hands. I was feeling very closed in.

"Yes, honey, Sam is your brother. And the new baby will be mine as well."

I felt this sinking feeling in my stomach, but it couldn't sink too far because I was being firmly held up by my family. My brain was also telling me I didn't need to panic.

"I have to say, Bec, I was just a little bit hurt that you seem to have assumed that I would have done something like that without your mother knowing about it first. I'm also a bit surprised that you somehow imagined that anyone would be able to hide such a thing from your mother for nine, nearly ten, years."

I ducked my head. I guess that was true. I felt embarrassed — and ashamed.

"I'm sorry!" I whispered. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly."

"The truth is that it was partly your mother's idea in the first place."

"Huh?" Tara and I said it at the same time. It was like a duet of surprise.

"One night back home in Preston, after all you kids were in bed, the four of us were sitting around having a glass of wine. Penny and Ally were talking about how much they adored you kids. They liked Dan well enough but he was about ten then and that's an awkward sort of age. But Tara was five and you were three and they thought you were both just so incredibly cute. Of course, they mostly only ever saw you when you were behaving yourselves so I personally thought they were completely mistaken."

He winked at me and lifted my hands off the table. Of course, when he picked up my hands, Liz's hand dangled underneath. Dad calmly scooped up her dangling hand and included all three of our hands in his clasp. Then he kissed all three sets of knuckles and set them back on the table. The psychic message he was sending me with his eyes was telling me that as far as he was concerned, we were all completely wonderful and we'd never dropped to anything as mundane as "cute" in our entire lives. There's not much you can say, even psychically, when you get that sort of message from your father so I just let my eyes show him how much I loved him and let him get on with the story.

"Penny and Ally told us that they'd been talking about how much they wanted to have a child themselves — either by adopting one or by Ally having a baby. They couldn't afford to pay for IVF and getting it through the National Health was pretty unlikely. Then Penny made some comment about how maybe in the future the doctors would be able to take a bit of her DNA and use it to fertilize one of Ally's eggs so that the baby would truly be a part of both of them."

I was starting to see where this was going, so I nodded to Dad for him to continue.

"Louise then pointed out that it seemed silly to wait for some doctor to invent a way of doing that when I was already walking around with most of Penny's DNA inside of me. Well that was more or less the end of that topic for the night. A couple of days later Penny and Ally came back to me and told me they wanted me to be the father of Ally's child so that it could be a part of both of them. They wanted to know how we should go about asking Louise if it could happen. I thought we should just sit down with her and ask her, so we did and that's pretty much the end of the story."

I looked at Dad through narrow eyes. "Did you and Ally do the IVF thing, with your sperms in a test tube?"

Dad's eyes flicked to one side, then the other. This was the bit of the conversation Dad didn't want to have with us. I tightened my grip on his hands so that he couldn't escape. He looked everywhere but at us, but eventually he mumbled, "No, we did it the old fashioned way."

I nodded. In my head I ruled a line through the second option on my list and put a neat little check mark next to the third option.

"I think it's awesome that you love your sister so much that you would do anything in the world for her — even having a baby with another woman for her."

Tara and Liz made agreeing sorts of noises.

"I suppose that's true. As soon as Penny asked me, there was never any doubt in my mind that I was going to make a baby for her. But it goes both ways. Penny feels the same way about me. She knew how happy I was with Louise and with you kids. She would never dream of asking me to do anything that would endanger that."

I understood that. The knot in my stomach was definitely relaxing. Then a memory popped up in my head.

"Oh! Oh! I might have said something ... Liz, you were there, weren't you?" She nodded at me. "Did I say something horrible to Aunt Penny? I remember thinking it but I don't know if I actually said it."

"Um ... you said that you hoped it was worth it. You said that you hoped it was worth des..." She stopped talking because I'd put my hand over her mouth. I didn't want to hear her say it. I felt bad enough about saying it in the first place. I felt totally awful.

"You really hurt Penny when you said that to her," Dad gently explained. "She was pretty devastated. I think she understands that you were having a panic attack but your words still hurt her."

I stood up, or at least I tried to. I had three people holding onto me and they wouldn't let me go.

"Let me up. I have to phone her. I have to apologize. I feel so bad. Let me up."

"It's the middle of the night," said Dad calmly. "It can wait until morning."

"Also, it seems a bit silly to phone her," put in Tara, "when she's sleeping in my room."

"Huh?"

"Penny and Ally were both feeling really bad because you were so upset," explained Dad. "They didn't want to leave until they spoke to you again and everything was fine between you. It looked as though you weren't going to come out from wherever you were hiding any time soon, so we decided they might as well go to bed and talk to you in the morning."

I was out of my chair in a flash and this time nobody tried to hold me down. Liz followed me down the hall — she didn't have much choice, we were still tied together. I could hear her laughing a bit as she tried to keep up with me. Tara's door was closed and I tried to listen but all I could hear was a herd of elephants coming down the hall after me. I opened the door as quietly as I could and peered into the room. Sure enough, there were two still forms lying close together on the bed.

"Aunt Penny?" I whispered. "Are you awake?"

She sat up in bed straight away. "Bec, is that you?" Ally propped herself up as well and blinked against the light coming through the doorway.

I don't think my feet touched the ground as I launched myself across the room and into Aunt Penny's arms — poor Liz had no choice but to learn how to fly alongside me. Aunt Penny and I were talking over the top of each other, each trying to apologize to the other and make sure the other was okay.

Soon Ally joined us in a four-way hug and the bed shifted again as Tara arrived. Liz was having a giggling fit about being dragged into the family hug like that. The rest of us were all sitting on the bed talking away about how silly I had been and how happy we were about the baby and so on. I don't think there was a single second when there weren't at least two of us talking at once. There was a fair amount of crying going on and a lot of hugging and a bit of laughing too.

Dad had hesitated at the doorway and watched the five us bouncing around on the bed. I'm pretty sure it was Aunt Penny who persuaded him to come inside and sit on the edge of the bed with us. The first thing I knew about was when he was sitting there and he and Aunt Penny were holding hands — an area of steadiness in amongst the excitement on the bed. Impulsively I leaned over and kissed Dad on the cheek and then I joined back in with the mob scene on the bed.

At one stage I asked about Sam and found out that he was in a sleeping-bag on the floor in Dan's room. Apparently, he had been a bit excited about finding out that his uncle was actually his biological father, but also a bit weirded out by the whole thing.

Eventually we calmed down enough that we could have something approaching a normal conversation. I looked back and forth between Dad and Aunt Penny.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us all this ages ago. I can't believe you thought I wouldn't figure it out."

Aunt Penny glanced at Dad and then shrugged at me. "We decided back when Sam turned eight that he was old enough to find out about his biological father and how that was different from having a parent. We agreed that the next time Sam asked, we would sit down with him and tell him. And then I was to let Peter know and he would tell all of you about it. The only problem was that Sam didn't seem that interested. He hasn't once even brought it up in conversation. I think the last time he asked was when he was about five and he asked how come he didn't have a father like the other kids at school. At the time we told him he was extra lucky because he had two mothers instead and he was happy with that."

"We'd just got to the point of thinking that it wasn't fair to keep it from him any longer," added Ally. "So we were getting ready to just sit him down one evening and explain it all. Then you went and blew that plan out of the water."

"What we couldn't figure out, was how you managed to make the connection." Dad was looking at me steadily. "For a while, Penny was convinced she must have said something that gave you a clue. Liz said that nobody had said anything that could have let you figure it out."

"That's true," cut in Liz. "They were just talking about the paintings and then you made a comment about the baby. You just blanked out for a moment and then you just suddenly knew. And then you shut down like you do sometimes except it was only for a few minutes and when you came back you knew for sure and you went all hysterical."

"Come on," said Tara. "Fess up. How did you figure it out? Inquiring minds want to know."

I shrugged and glanced between all their faces. They were all looking at me, waiting for an explanation. "It wasn't really any one thing — it was a whole lot of little things. Oh! The main thing was my picture."

"Which picture?" someone asked.

"Come on," I said to Liz. "Wait a sec," I said to the rest.

Liz and I held hands — the hands that were tied together anyway and together we raced out into the living room. I lifted my family picture off the wall, still mounted on its piece of black card. We walked more slowly back to Tara's room and resumed our places on the crowded bed. The light was on by this stage so everyone could see the picture clearly as I held it up.

"I said it before and I'll say it again. That really is an awesome picture. What are we supposed to be looking at?" Ally wanted to know.

"Oh! I see it!" burst out Tara. "It's..." She stopped suddenly because I put my hand over her mouth. Liz tugged on her arm and I saw Tara whispering an explanation into her ear.

"Well I don't see it," complained Aunt Penny. "This is a really beautiful picture of Peter and his family — your family. How did this tell you that Peter was Sam's father?"

The three of us just sat there and she looked a tiny bit cross. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to have the three of you grinning at me like that?"

"I do," said Dad. "It's bad enough when it's just Tara and Bec, but now with three of them it's ten times worse. I'm just glad that Angie isn't old enough to join in with them or I think I'd have to move out of home."

I blew Dad a kiss and he grinned at me. Then he pointed at the picture.

"How about you explain to us old folks how this picture helped you."

"Forget about Dad in the middle. The clue is in the picture of Dan. When I drew Dan I made him young, like, something less than ten years old. I didn't think about pictures of when he was that age. I just drew a boy and made him Dan-like."

The adults all looked at the picture and agreed that my version of Dan was different from what he really looked like at that age but still recognizable as Dan.

"Ahhh!" said Dad. "I get it now."

My two aunts looked at Dad but he just grinned at them and gestured at me. "Well, keep going, I'm sure Penny and Ally are just dying to find out."

Aunt Penny poked her tongue out at Dad and he winked back at her.

"Okay, now I'm going to cover up everyone else except the boy. Pretend I just handed this picture to you and you don't know who it's supposed to be. Look at it with new eyes. Now tell me who it looks like."

There was a moment of silence and then they both said, "It's Sam!"

After that there was a short discussion in which it was generally agreed that Sam and Dan only looked a little bit alike but that somehow I'd managed to draw a picture which highlighted the similarities between the two of them — similarities which probably wouldn't have existed if they had not been blood-relatives.

Dad didn't let us go for very much longer before he reminded us all that we had school in the morning (and the adults had work) and we should get to bed and get some sleep.

Dad went straight into the living room and started pulling the couch out into a bed. When I asked why, he explained that Nana was in his bed with Mom but I wasn't to go in there and disturb her because they were both asleep. Nana hadn't wanted to go home either while I was so upset. I decided that I would talk to Nana in the morning and tell her I was okay. That was something to look forward to.

The three of us ended up back in my room. We lay back down on the thin foam mattresses on the floor and covered ourselves with blankets. A few hugs and kisses later and it was quiet. I was lying in the middle looking up at the ceiling and thinking how I felt much better now than I had when I'd been lying here an hour or so ago.

Suddenly I felt Liz lever herself up onto one elbow so she was facing me.

"I just remembered. We forgot to tell you about Dan."

"What about Dan?"

Tara propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at me as well. The two of them were now looming up on each side of me like they were bookends.

"Liz told us how you'd got all obsessed about not going near Dan. Nobody could work out where that could have come from until Liz told us it was to do with you hearing something Mom and Dan talked about on Friday morning."

I nodded at her, trying not to start crying again.

"As soon as Mom heard that, she got in a tizzy and was trying to tell you that she didn't mean you couldn't go near him. Of course you were completely out of it so she was totally wasting her time. As soon as she realized you weren't listening, Mom just turned around and walked away. Next thing we knew she was cleaning up after the party."

"When your dad told us to watch out for you tonight, one of the things he said for us to tell you was that there was absolutely nothing wrong with you hugging Dan or holding him or whatever. He said Dan won't be sent away or anything. It was all a big misunderstanding. Did you hear that, Bec? Everything's okay between you and Dan."

Liz had said that last bit louder because I'd started crying again. I suppose this time I was crying out of frustration. I was angry with myself. Somehow my brain had built up this big thing about staying away from Dan and now they were telling me it was a misunderstanding. It was sort of humiliating that I'd made such a fool out of myself and it was all about nothing.

I just wanted to scream, but waking everybody up by screaming in the middle of the night was probably a bad idea. I grabbed my pillow and jammed it over my face. Then I screamed. I also drummed my heels on the bedding. I don't think it solved anything by doing all that but it let some of my frustration out, so I guess that's something.

Then I knew what I was going to do. "Come on!" I said to the others and scrambled to my feet.

"Where are we going?" asked Liz with a pathetic little moan. "I want to sleep."

The three of us pitter-pattered down the hallway, trying to be quiet but moving quickly. I flung Dan's door open and raced into his room. It was a bit dark in there so I didn't see Sam on the floor until I tripped over him. He woke up with a start and I quickly apologized, then I flung myself onto Dan's bed. Liz had squealed a bit when I stumbled, but managed to step over Sam rather than step on him. Tara slowed down to check that he was okay and then crawled onto the bed after us.

I stretched myself out on top of the lump that was Dan. Liz crawled onto the bed in the space beside him and lay down, giggling quietly to herself. I don't think she expected to end up crawling onto the bed with Dan when she tied herself to me earlier that evening.

Dan had woken when Liz squealed and he managed to catch me a bit when I dropped on top of him. He was under the blankets and I was on top but he got his arms free and hugged me tightly. I kissed his face and garbled out all sorts of apologies for the way I had been behaving and I told him that I loved him and then I kissed his face some more. Then I was just crying into his shoulder and he was hugging me and Liz and Tara were crying too and Dan was hugging them too — I don't know how he managed that, last time I checked he doesn't have three arms. I was vaguely aware of Sam standing up in his sleeping bag and blinking at us as he tried to figure out what was going on.

I don't know how it happened but somehow all three of us ended up under the blankets with me lying on top of Dan and Liz and Tara on each side of him. I was still crying and holding onto Dan as tightly as I could. Someone was stroking my hair. I didn't figure it out until later but that was Sam, sitting on the side of the bed and stroking my hair because I was crying. I think he was worried about me. He didn't seem to get that I wasn't crying because I was unhappy.

I was vaguely aware that Tara and Liz were talking quietly with Dan and with Sam. I'm pretty sure I heard someone say welcome to the family to him, but I'm not sure who that was.

Gradually I stopped crying and let myself melt into Dan's solid chest.

I dreamt of floating in a life raft on a vast ocean. The ocean was big and scary, but the life raft enclosed me and held me safe.

I woke in the dark and could feel my head lifting and falling softly as Dan breathed in and out. Around me I could hear others breathing as well. A body was tucked in close to Dan on each side of me and there was a weight across my legs. I was warm — too warm in fact. Dan, on his own, is like a furnace and there were four of us in there.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. I was enclosed and held and safe. For the first time in what felt like forever but was really only a few days, I felt completely safe.

I sighed softly and smiled to myself.

It didn't take long for Dan's steady breathing to rock me back to sleep.



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Chapter 39: Monday

I woke slowly from a deep, warm, comfortable place. I was feeling so cozy and relaxed that it took me a little while to remember (or should that be, it took me a little while to realize) that I was in Dan's bed. At some stage while I was sleeping, Dan had obviously slid me off the top of him and rolled onto his side. As a result I was now pressed up against his back. I say pressed because Tara was hugging me fairly tightly from behind and kind of leaning in. Squished between Dan's broad back and Tara's hugging, I was feeling a tiny bit like the cream filling in an Oreo cookie. If someone pulled Dan and Tara apart, I would probably stick quite firmly to one of them. It would be pure chance who I stuck to. Then if we were being eaten like a giant Oreo, the next step would be a giant set of teeth scraping me away, or a giant tongue licking me all the way from my toes to my nose. I giggled to myself as I tried to imaging what that would feel like — I was kind of split between "eeew" and "oooh!"

One of my arms was firmly wrapped around Dan's naked chest. My hand was tangled up in some soft flannel. That was a bit puzzling. I felt around a bit and felt flesh way softer than Dan's hard muscles should be. I squeezed a bit, trying to work out what I was holding. It was very soft, except for a hard little point pressing into my palm. It was at that instant — half way through the squeeze — that I remembered Liz and realized what I was holding.

I stopped squeezing as quickly as I could. I heard a startled little squeak from the other side of Dan and then a whispered "Stop that!"

"Sorry!" I whispered back to Liz. I shifted my hand slightly sideways to a flatter part of her chest and stroked it gently a couple of times before just resting my hand flat against her.

I felt the muscles in her chest shift slightly and then a hand clasped mine.

"How are you feeling this morning?" came the quiet whisper from the other side of Dan.

"To be honest, I'm a little bit squished. I've got Tara on one side and Dan on the other and it's a bit like I'm the cream of an Oreo cookie in the middle. I feel as if at any second the two of them could just squeeze a bit more and I would come oozing out from between them."

I felt her chest tremble under my hand as she giggled but she did it quietly so I didn't hear anything.

"I meant inside of you. How are you feeling in your head this morning?"

"Oh!" I had to think about that for a moment. "I guess I'm feeling pretty good."

"Good!"

"I think back to yesterday and I feel a bit silly about what I was thinking."

"Don't worry about it!"

"Okay!" I lay there and didn't worry about anything for a little while. "How long have you been awake?"

"I don't know. About twenty minutes maybe. I'm not totally comfortable, but I don't want to move."

"Why not?"

"Well for starters, I'm perched on the very edge of the bed and if I moved at all, I'll probably fall. The only thing that's keeping me on the bed is the fact that Dan's arms are totally wrapped around me and he's holding me in against him as if I'm some sort of teddy bear for him to cuddle."

I smiled to myself. Dan hugging Liz like that had probably stopped her doing her usual thrashing around in bed which would have sent her over the edge — literally.

"Secondly, Dan's cuddling me as if I was a teddy bear and I think I kinda like it. Did I mention that I think your brother is totally awesome? I think I've just had one of the best moments of my life so far. I got to wake up in the arms of the cutest guy in the world. I've spent the last twenty minutes just lying here enjoying the moment."

Oh I knew that feeling.

"Thirdly, I think Dan's having some sort of nice sex dream and I don't want to spoil it for him."

Huh? "What makes you think that?"

"Well he's fast asleep, but he's kind of poking me in the leg — he's poking me quite hard, if you know what I mean."

I giggled quietly to myself. "I don't think he's dreaming. I hate to burst your bubble but he probably just needs to pee."

"Why would that make his thing go hard?"

"I don't know. It just does. It goes like that most mornings. It's something to do with an overfull bladder pushing up against something else inside of him."

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"I asked! One day I asked Dan and he told me."

I just about shrugged, but then I remembered that Liz couldn't see me — and that my shrug would probably hit Tara in the chin with my bony shoulder — and that would probably wake her up in a foul mood — and that would be bad because I was trapped pretty much right where she could attack me. So I didn't shrug.

It was quiet for a while. Then I felt Liz wriggle underneath my hand.

"Well the bad news is that all the talk about Dan needing to pee has reminded me that I need to pee."

"Well you know where the bathroom is. I'll stay here and keep the bed warm." That was actually code for ... I don't think I can move right now.

"Um ... there are two problems with that. First, Dan's holding onto me pretty tight. I'm not sure if I'll be able to get out without waking him up. Second, we're still tied together. So if I go to the bathroom, you're coming with me."

"Oh!" I'd completely forgotten that little detail. "I forgot, sorry."

I lifted my head up and looked around, trying to figure out how to get out of the bed without waking Tara and Dan. That was when I noticed that the weight on my leg wasn't one of Dan's legs but was actually Sam — my cousin/brother. I suppose I may as well keep calling him my cousin. But maybe I should try and treat him more like a younger brother. I'd never had a younger brother before so that was something to look forward to. I promised myself that I would be nicer to him than I had been in the past.

I looked down the bed at Sam. He was still in the sleeping bag and kind of half curled up on the bottom of the bed, except that his head was resting right on my hip. That can't have been very comfortable because I don't have a lot of padding over my hip-bone, though the blankets would be helping a little bit. He looked really sweet, lying there like that.

I had to tell Liz how to open up Dan's arm by pulling on his little finger. Then I had to hold one of his arms out of the way while she did the same to his other arm. Soon Liz was sliding out of the bed and standing next to it, still attached to me at the wrist.

Getting me out from the middle of the pile of bodies was trickier. Liz somehow managed to slide Sam down to the very bottom of the bed with one hand and a fair amount of grunting. Sam didn't seem to wake up despite being shoved around. During all of that, Dan rolled flat onto his stomach and settled so I figured I could just clamber straight across his back to get out. The only problem was that Tara still had me in a death grip from behind.

I knew that I didn't need to be too gentle to escape from Tara. She could sleep through just about anything. My plan was pretty simple. I would jab Tara in the ribs, she would let me go and Liz would pull my hands so that I slid straight over Dan's back and I would be out.

The plan started out fine. I made my fingers hard and pushed down steadily into Tara's ribs, slowly increasing the pressure. Eventually Tara mumbled in her sleep and loosened her grip around me so that she could move away from the annoying thing jabbing into her. Liz started pulling and I started sliding across Dan. I just love it when a plan works out so well.

That was the point when I discovered just why Tara had been clinging to me so tightly, even in her sleep. As soon as her arms loosened, she started sliding backwards off the side of the bed. She squeaked awake as she found herself falling and clutched frantically to save herself. The things she grabbed onto, of course, were my rapidly disappearing legs. I was being pulled one way and Tara was falling the other way — something had to give. What gave were my pyjama pants. They didn't tear. They just slid down my legs and off, leaving Tara to fall with a squeal and an armful of pyjama pants. I found myself being dragged out of bed on the other side and into Liz's arms —feeling a whole lot more naked than I would like.

Fortunately I was wearing underpants but it was still embarrassing in a funny sort of way. Liz and I collapsed onto the floor giggling like maniacs. That stopped pretty quickly when we heard cursing from the other side of the bed. We both clambered to our feet and raced around to the other side of the bed. Tara was lying on the floor, clutching my pyjama pants and swearing like it was going out of fashion.

We quickly established that she wasn't hurt, just surprised and shocked and unhappy about having fallen like that and unhappy about having woken up like that. I politely asked if I could please have my pyjama pants back. Tara looked at the pants in her hands and then at me and burst out laughing. That sent me and Liz off into giggles as well. Tara threw the pants up at me. I caught them and untangled them and started putting them on. I had one foot up in the air and was just putting it into the pants when I saw a pair of unblinking eyes staring at me. It was Sam. He was awake and staring at me — in my panties. I frantically tried to cover up but that didn't work so well while standing on one leg and I collapsed in a squealing heap. That dragged Liz down on top of me. She was laughing so hard that I was worried her head would fall off.

I was torn between trying to hide underneath Liz's shaking body and trying to drag my pants back on as fast as I could. Doing both at once just didn't work at all. There was some groaning and grunting from up above and then Dan was peering down at us from the side of the bed, blinking to get the sleep out of his eyes.

"What's going on?" His voice was rough and croaky from sleep.

I gave up on my pants which were all tangled again and held Liz on top of me, peeping up at Dan from behind her shoulder. Liz and Tara were both still laughing which didn't help at all. I wasn't laughing anymore.

"Um ... Liz and I needed to go to the bathroom. It's still too early for everyone to get up. We were trying to be quiet so we didn't wake everyone."

Dan shifted his gaze to Liz and Tara rolling on the floor giggling hysterically. Then he looked sideways at Sam who was still watching our antics with wide-eyed wonder. Then he looked back at me.

"Good job on that. If you're still going to the bathroom then go. I want to go back to sleep."

He rolled back onto the bed, out of sight from my position on the floor. Tara obviously decided that she liked that plan and started crawling back into bed so that she could go back to sleep too. Sam still watched without saying a word. Liz scrambled to her feet and dragged me up with her.

"Now I really, really need to go!" she gasped in between the giggles.

Then she was running for the bathroom and I was following her, using my free hand to hold the pyjama pants behind me in a useless attempt to hide my panties from Sam's stunned eyes.

Using the bathroom involved more giggling than peeing. Naturally standing right next to Liz while she peed meant that I discovered a need to do that as well. Using the toilet while tied to someone else is a skill I don't expect to use very often in my life. I can't imagine any jobs you can apply for where putting a check mark next to "able to pee while tied to someone else" would be considered a plus.

After all that was done, we washed one hand each — by unspoken agreement the hands that were tied together didn't get used for anything that would require washing afterwards. We decided we should probably have a quick shower. Since we were still attached to each other that meant we'd be having a shower together. It sounded like a fun thing to do. That was when we discovered the biggest down side of having our hands tied together. We found out that it's physically impossible to take off a pyjama top when you can't pull one hand through the sleeve.

After a short but intense discussion we agreed that a shower was more important than keeping our symbolic bond of friendship any longer. A quick visit to the kitchen and one snip of the scissors and our bond was broken. Our parting was bitter and heartfelt. We both managed to keep straight faces as we tearfully promised never to forget each other. We made solemn promises to think of each other constantly until we could meet again and then we turned and went our separate ways.

Liz went back to the bathroom to have her shower while I went to my bedroom to collect her jeans and find a top and some fresh underwear for her to borrow. I also picked out something for me to wear to school and then I headed back to the bathroom to rejoin Liz. We were separated for at least three minutes but it felt like a lifetime — well, that's what we told each other. Sometimes you just have to go with the drama of a situation — even if it is mostly play-acting.

-------

There were eleven people sitting down for breakfast — not counting Lucy. That was too many of us to crowd around the kitchen table. The sensible way to deal with that would have been to have breakfast in shifts. I mean it's not as if we were planning some huge cooked breakfast like we have on weekends. My family doesn't do sensible. It's like we have an allergy to sensibleness or something. Anytime we do anything it's always seems to be the least sensible way of doing things. Sometimes I actually suggest a better way of doing something but it's like I'm invisible or something. They all just go ahead and do it their way. So the picnic chairs came out of the garage and the study chairs came out of our bedrooms and they picked up the kitchen table and moved it into the living room and put eleven chairs around it — plus the little doll's high chair for Lucy.

It could have been only ten of us because Mom had more important things to do. When Liz and I arrived in the kitchen after showering and dressing, we found Mom on her knees with her head in the oven. She had a bucket of water beside her and she was scrubbing out the inside of the oven.

"What are you doing, Mom?"

She emerged and dumped her cloth in the water, rinsing it and wringing it out. She gave me a look as if to say, "that should be obvious."

"I'm cleaning the oven."

"Why are you cleaning the oven?" Now I think about it, that was a pretty stupid question.

"Because it's dirty!" She gave me another of those looks and reached back into the oven. I guess I deserved that.

At least she was talking to us — I suppose that's better than being ignored.

It did mean we couldn't bake anything for breakfast. Not that we would've anyway on a school morning. Dad arrived in the kitchen and somehow managed to persuade Mom to finish cleaning the oven after breakfast. He took her to their bedroom to get dressed — Mom had been wearing an apron over her nightie. When he returned, he told us that Nana was going to stay for the day and look after Angie — and Mom.

Dad asked how I was feeling and said I could stay home from school if I really needed to. I told him I was fine. Nana came out of the bedroom and we had a nice hug. She asked how I was feeling and I said I was fine. I told her I was sorry for having worried her by having such a big meltdown and she told me not to be bothered about it. Aunt Ally arrived and we had a nice hug and she asked me how I was feeling and I told her I was fine. I hugged Aunt Penny too and told her I was fine before she could get around to asking. Dan hugged me and then lifted so that my feet dangled in the air. He asked me how I was and I couldn't answer because I was having trouble breathing. Eventually he put me down and once I had my breath back I told him I was fine. I hugged Sam too but I didn't tell him I was fine. He didn't ask. I think he was too busy being embarrassed because I was hugging him so hard. When I let him go, he said, "I'm glad you're fine." I hugged him again. I don't think that was the reaction he was expecting. He seemed to get more embarrassed. And here I was trying to be nice to him. I'll have to think more carefully about how to be nice to a nine-year-old boy.

Nana asked me how my head was feeling. She meant the little scratch I had on my forehead from where I'd thumped my head into the wall. I'd replaced the bandaid over it when I had my shower. There was a little scratch and a bit of a bump but it was nothing special. Dan made a joke about my head being harder than the wall — apparently I made a head-shaped dent in the wallboard.

Dad pointed at the bump on my head. "If the Student Welfare idiot at your school sees that, he'll probably accuse me of beating you. I don't want you talking to him. The man's an idiot and he'll just upset you. If he wants to talk to you, just tell him no — if he makes a fuss, tell him to call me and I'll set him straight."

After all that shifting and moving and crowding of people around the table, breakfast happened pretty quickly. Nobody was especially hungry because there'd been so much food yesterday — except Dan of course, but he's always hungry so that doesn't count.

Liz hugged Sabrina the Kitten all through breakfast. I realized that in all the time she'd been tied to me, Liz hadn't picked up a stuffed animal once. I had a theory that I had been her substitute stuffed animal during that time. I wasn't sure at first whether I should be cross or happy that I had achieved stuffed animal status with Liz. In the end, I decided that if Liz wanted to think of me as a walking, talking fluffy-Bec then I could live with that.

-------

The first thing Liz asked me after we'd taken our seat on the school bus was "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"No! I mean really. How are you really feeling?"

"Oh!"

Now I had to actually think about how I was feeling — fine is such a useful answer. You can give it without even thinking. I saw once that a lot of teens use FINE as a pseudonym for Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional (maybe pseudonym isn't the right word, it's some sort of 'nym-word anyway) meaning that's the normal state of mind of a teenager. I hadn't meant that when I said I was fine to everybody this morning. I'd meant that I was okay. It had been a little bit annoying having everyone ask me the same thing over and over this morning. But now I was away from it all, I realized that I was so lucky to have that many people who cared so much about me. That made me feel warm inside. I felt a smile spread across my face.

"I really am fine."

-------

At the stop where Liz would normally catch the bus, she had to run down the aisle and poke her head out the door. Her dad was waiting there with her school bag. They exchanged a couple of comments and then Liz came back to our seat and the bus pulled back out into the traffic. I waved at Mr Davidson but he didn't see me. He just climbed back onto his bike and roared off.

"Dad wanted to know how you were feeling. I said you were fine."

Her eyes were sparkling, like she was laughing on the inside.

I smiled at Liz.

-------

We were hanging out near our lockers waiting for home room. Melissa DiMartino saw us and came over to say hello.

"I just wanted to say thanks again for bringing Laura home on Friday night."

"How is she?"

Melissa pulled a face which translated roughly as, "I don't know how to answer that."

"She spent half of Sunday at the clinic getting blood tests and pelvic exams and who knows what else. Our parents have been arguing with each other and with Laura about whether she should be sent to a boarding school or not. I think the only reason she isn't heading off to one this morning is that our mother had a horrible experience at a boarding school when she was a girl."

I shivered to myself. Being sent away to boarding school! I couldn't imagine anything more horrible.

"Things have been a bit crazy at our house this weekend. Our old housekeeper, Mavis, got her marching orders. She had to have her bags packed and be out of the house by the time our father arrived home on Saturday afternoon. He's interviewing new people for that job this afternoon."

I didn't know what to say to that. I felt bad for the housekeeper. I wasn't sure why she should have been in trouble for what Laura had done. I suppose she was the adult in charge and she didn't seem to be making much effort to keep track of what Laura was doing.

"I've never seen Father so furious. He was yelling at Laura before he'd even walked in through the front door."

Melissa may have said more but at that moment, Laura came around the corner and saw us talking together. Laura gave us the dirtiest glare you could imagine. Melissa muttered, "I better go," and then she turned and walked quickly away from us.

Laura stood there, looking around, and then started walking down the hallway. She seemed to be making an effort to not look at us. When she was more or less even with us, she veered so that she walked straight into a girl called Sharon. She shoved Sharon hard and snarled, "Get out of my way, you fat slug."

Laura then stalked off down the hallway, the crowd quietly parting to let her through. As I watched Laura walk away, I was feeling nothing but sadness. It was noticeable that Laura didn't have any of her sheep following in her wake.

I walked over to Sharon. I knew almost nothing about her. She's in my year but we didn't have any classes in common. About the only thing I did know about her was that she was fairly overweight and that she sometimes got teased about that.

"Hey, Sharon. Are you okay? I'm sorry about Laura having a go at you like that."

Sharon looked at me through narrow, suspicious eyes.

"You shouldn't take that business personally. Laura was pretty much performing for my benefit and you just happened to be convenient."

Sharon still watched me.

"I'm just saying sorry, that's all."

I turned and walked away from her. It was the longest conversation I'd ever had with Sharon. I don't think she even knew who I was.

-------

Classes were fairly plain by comparison with the rest of my life. They weren't boring, they were just ordinary. Hannah Fargo was absent for some reason and as a result all the classes seemed to go more smoothly than usual. Nobody made rude comments about me all day. In fact, everyone pretty much ignored me and it was nice to just slot into the routine of schoolwork. Mrs Nelson sprang a pop-quiz on us in history, but that didn't worry me. Mr Palu, my math teacher, was back after his absence on Friday and I gave him a nice smile before opening my books and working steadily all period. At the end of the class I showed him what I was up to — which was ahead of the rest of the class — and he just smiled at me and told me to keep it up.

Mrs Gasbury was absent again for science and we had the same skinny man as a replacement teacher that we'd had on Friday. Once again there was no work left to do. I waited until the class was settled and then quietly went up to him and asked for permission to go see Miss Webster. He gave me a pass and I went to the principal's office. I had to wait on the bench outside for a few minutes, but not for too long. I explained to Miss Webster that Mrs Gasbury was absent and that there was no work to do and I asked if I could retake the science test right then instead of during lunch period on Tuesday.

Miss Webster pulled a blank science test out of her "to do" tray where it was obviously waiting for me. She sat me down at her table and handed me the test and a pen. I sat there and answered the test while she worked on her computer. It was nice and quiet in there with just the two of us and I found the test fairly easy this time around. They weren't exactly the same questions but they were all about the stuff I'd studied so that was good. At one stage Miss Webster got a phone call from a parent and I had to leave my test and go sit outside on the bench while she spoke to the parent. That took nearly ten minutes, so I just sat there and let myself drift.

The secretary saw me sitting there and sent me off with a couple of notes to be delivered to students in different classes. That isn't my favorite job because when you walk into a classroom that isn't yours, everyone just stares at you. It's really horrible. At least you don't have to actually speak, you just hand the note to the teacher and then you can leave again. I didn't realize it until I was actually in the room but one of the notes was to go to someone in Tara's room. She stared at me like everyone else, trying to work out what I was doing delivering notes into her classroom. I did notice that she and Laura and the other sheep, the one whose name I can never remember, were all in that class and they weren't sitting anywhere close to each other. I went back to the bench and sat down again. In a way I was pleased that Tara was apart from Laura and the other one. On the other hand, I felt bad for Tara. She needs to have friends around her more than I do.

Eventually Miss Webster let me back into the room. She apologized for the disruption but the phone call had to be private. I told her I understood and that I didn't mind. Then I went back to my test.

-------

Sharon, the girl from that morning, came up to me while Liz and I were standing in the lunch line. She was scowling.

"Are you Rebecca Freeman?"

"Yes."

"Is your sister one of DiMartino's bitches?"

I hesitated, not really wanting to agree with that description. But then I decided it was as accurate as calling her one of DiMartino's sheep.

"Yes."

Sharon snorted and walked away. I blinked after her, trying to figure out what that was about.

"What's up with her?" Liz wanted to know.

I shrugged.

One of the food choices for the day was a slice of quiche. It actually looked okay. Liz and I both chose a slice of quiche, an apple and a bottle of iced tea.

The two boys that we'd made friends with on Friday, Mikael and Phil, waved us over to their table. They asked how we were.

"We're both fine," said Liz. "It was Bec's birthday yesterday."

"Happy Birthday!" said Mikael. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen years and one day."

"Back in a sec," said Liz. She bounced out of her chair and dived into the crowd.

A moment later, she returned with her arm looped through Tara's arm. Tara had a tray with a slice of quiche, an apple and a bottle of iced tea. Tara sat down opposite me and half-smiled at me. She looked a bit fragile. She was wearing her "University of Life" top and the look on her face suggested she had just been given a failing grade.

I pointed at her tray, then at mine and then at Liz's. "Snap!"

That got a little smile from her which I suppose was as much as could be expected.

I introduced her to Mikael and Phil. Tara kind of acknowledged them and then started nibbling on her quiche and gave off psychic "Don't talk to me!" messages.

I saw Tracey, holding a food tray, wandering around looking lost. I did a little wave to get her attention and then pointed to the empty chair next to Tara. She looked at our table then she looked away as if she couldn't decide what to do. A moment later she slid into the seat next to Tara. On her tray was a slice of quiche, an apple and a bottle of iced tea.

I gestured at our four trays with identical meals. "Great minds think alike!"

Tracey let out a little laugh. "Or maybe it's a case of fools never differ."

"I like your top," Tracey said to Tara.

Tara grunted in reply. I resisted the urge to kick her under the table, but I did prod her with my foot. She looked at me and I gestured with my head. She stared at me so I gestured again.

Finally Tara turned back to Tracey. "Um ... thanks ... and thanks for sitting with me. That was nice of you."

I introduced Tracey to Liz and to the two boys.

The table went a bit quiet while we ate. Nobody really wanted to start a conversation — or maybe nobody could think of how to start a conversation.

The two boys were especially quiet. They seemed to be impressed about having two of the popular girls of the school sitting at their table. Or maybe they were embarrassed because they hadn't chosen quiche for lunch — they had some fried thing that was vaguely fish shaped and might have once been in the same room as a fish.

The quiche was just a little bit bland but it was okay. I suppose you shouldn't expect miracles from school food.

Eventually I got sick of the silence. I tapped the handle of my knife on the table to get Tara's attention.

"That top fits you better than it did on Saturday. Did Mom sew it up for you?"

"Liz and I did it last night while you were off with the fairies."

"Off with the fairies?" asked Tracey.

"Don't ask!" said Tara, rolling her eyes.

"So did Laura have a go at you about your clothes?" I asked.

"No ... well, yes but not really. I think she's blaming me for her father finding out about the party."

"Why would she blame you?" asked Tracey.

"Because our dad phoned her father about it," I explained.

"That's harsh."

"Yeah!" agreed Tara

"Don't worry. She's just sore. She'll get over it."

"I just wish she wasn't sore at me."

"No! I mean she's sore. She's not too comfortable sitting down today. Her father gave her ten of the best with his leather belt."

"Ouch!"

"Yeah!"

"What did Laura DiMartino do to get the strap?" asked Mikael.

"Don't ask!" we all chorused.

Tracey turned herself around and glared at the boys. "And don't you two go flapping your mouths around about what I just said. Do you hear me? You aren't supposed to know about that. If you start spreading stories about Laura, I won't be shedding any tears at your funerals. Do you hear me?"

The two boys nodded at her, their mouths firmly closed.

-------

The bell rang to end the last lesson of the day. As we all stood up and bustled around, Melissa came over to me.

"I'll see you tonight then?"

"What?"

"I'll see you and your brother at my house tonight for dinner. Father said he invited you."

"Oh! That! Yeah! I'll see you tonight."

Melissa smiled at me and walked away. I watched her leave and mentally slapped my brain a couple of times. I'd completely forgotten about that.

-------

Nana and Angie were in the middle of baking shortbread biscuits. Angie was standing on a stool at the kitchen table mixing up shortbread batter. She had flour up to her elbows and also on her face and in her hair. As soon as I came into the kitchen, she jumped off the stool and ran to me. She wanted to give me a hug but I wouldn't let her. I made her stand like a statue with her arms out wide and then I kissed her on the nose which was the only clean part of her face that I could find. Then I licked right up the side of face where she had a smear of raw shortbread mixture. That made her squeal and run away to hide behind Nana. I licked my lips. Raw shortbread really is quite tasty — in small amounts.

Mom was scrubbing the shower. The rest of the bathroom pretty well sparkled. Mom asked me to tidy my room so that she could vacuum the floor. I felt bad about using the bathroom when it was so clean. When I was finished washing my hands in the sink I used the cloth to wipe it down so that it was clean again.

"You better not let Mom see Angie like that," I said to Nana. "She might try and scrub her clean with the same brush she's using on the shower."

Angie's face went a delightful shade of white — oh wait, that was just the flour.

Nana grinned. "Don't worry, in a minute I intend to pick our little Angela up by the ankles and dunk her head first in the laundry sink a few times. That will get her clean, quick smart."

Angela's mouth was wide open.

"Angie, you want to keep your mouth shut when she dunks you under the water. And pinch your nose together with your hand like this." I reached out one hand and pinched her nose. "Or else water will go all the way up your nose and slosh around in your brain."

Angie pouted and stamped her foot. "You're teasing! You're both teasing!"

"Yes I am. It was only a little tease. There's no point cleaning you up until you've put the biscuits into the oven. When that's done, then Nana will clean you with a wash-cloth. Is that okay?"

"I s'spose!"

"Once you're all clean, then I'll give you two hugs. How would that be?"

"I want three hugs."

"Three hugs? That's a lot. I guess I can manage three hugs. That will be a special payback for me teasing you."

"And Nana has to give three hugs too. She teaseded me too."

"Yes I did. But there won't be any hugs until we finish these biscuits, so let's get back to work."

It didn't take long for Angie to climb back onto her stool and get back to mixing dough.

"Nana, did you hear me tell anyone that Dan and I were invited to dinner at the DiMartino's house tonight?"

"No honey."

"I remember being invited but I don't remember if I told anyone."

"Well that could be a problem. I seem to recall that Dan is working tonight. Your father is going to make sure he's home in time to take you to basketball."

"Basketball? Oh sh ... um ... bother. I forgot I had basketball. That's at 5:30. I'll have to take a change of clothes and have a shower at the community center. That sucks."

"Why does that suck, Bec?"

I blinked a couple of times when I realized that Nana had just said what she'd just said.

"Um ... I hate showering at the center. The shower cubicles don't have doors or curtains or anything. People can look at me while I'm showering."

Nana stared at me strangely. "Just girls I hope."

"Of course just girls, but that's bad enough."

"Well good — Oprah was talking about unisex bathrooms today and for a moment I had a rather horrible visual image."

I was puzzled for a moment until I twigged to what Nana meant by unisex and then I got a visual image too. I turned and fled to my room. That didn't work because my visual image came with me.

-------

There was a knock on my door so I called out and Tara came in. I was dressed in my basketball uniform with my warm-up suit over the top. I had my sports bag packed and I had included extras so that I could shower and change afterwards. I was standing in front of the mirror holding two outfits in front of me, first one then the other.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to decide what to wear tonight."

"Why would you wear a dress to your basketball game?"

"Not to basketball — afterwards. I'm going to the DiMartino place for dinner. Did I tell you that yesterday? I can't remember if I did or not."

"No, you didn't tell me. Why the hell are you going there for dinner?"

"Because Mr DiMartino invited Dan and me. Dan is working, so I guess it's just going to be me. Do you think I should wear the yellow dress or the speckled skirt with a white blouse? I could have worn my lilac dress but I wore that yesterday. Or maybe I should just wear a nice pair of jeans and a white blouse. You've been there, what do you think I should wear?"

"Don't wear jeans. Not to one of their dinners. The yellow dress is too summery. I'd go with the skirt and the white blouse. You'll need a jacket to wear to and from. It's cold outside. Just be careful not to spill food on your blouse or you'll look like a prize idiot. They'll give you napkins and stuff, make sure you use them."

"Okay thanks." I hung the skirt and blouse from one hanger and dived into my closet to find a suitable jacket and one of those plastic cover things that dry cleaners put on your clothes when they give them back.

"I think you're mad. I wouldn't go. Laura's in a right stink."

"I can't back out now. Mr DiMartino invited me and I said yes — I think. If I backed out now, that would be rude."

"Did you hear Tracey say that stuff about Laura getting the strap? Laura's told me about how that happens. He does it in front of the whole family like some sort of ritual. Everyone has to sit there and watch. It sounds awful. I'm glad he's not my father. I know I whinge about our parents sometimes but at least they would never belt us like that."

I nodded. This was an interesting conversation to have with Tara while she was still suffering the consequences of last Friday. Then I remembered the discussion Mom had with me last week.

"Dad never would. Mom told me last week that she was quite prepared to do something like that if one of us did something bad enough."

"Like, if I went to a high school party and had sex, you mean?"

I didn't have an answer for that. I don't think Tara expected one.

-------

"Are you ready to go, Bec? What's with the garment bag?"

"Dad, did you speak to Mr DiMartino yesterday before you passed the phone to me?"

"No, he just asked to speak to you."

"Well he asked me and Dan to go to dinner tonight at seven. That's pretty much straight after basketball. I think Dan's working, so it's just going to be me. Did I ask you if it was okay for me to go?"

"No you didn't."

"Oh ... well, is it okay for me to go?"

"Is this what you want to do?"

"I guess so."

"Then I suppose you may go."

"Thanks Dad."

It felt a bit weird to keep asking other people if I did something or not. My memories of Sunday were so full of holes that I simply had no idea. It was kind of frustrating.

-------

I got to be in the starting five at my basketball game, probably because I'd played such a good game last week. The problem with that was that last week I'd been in the middle of an episode and I'd kind of zoned into the basketball. This week my head was all over the place, what with all the stuff that had been happening. My game went the same way as my head — all over the place.

Fortunately our center, Sabrina, was having a really good game and managed to rescue some of my mistakes. It was frustrating me that my body wasn't doing what my brain was telling it to do. When it was my turn to be rotated onto the bench, I sat down with a sigh of relief.

I could hear Dad in the stands calling out for me to relax and get my mind into the game. I controlled my breathing — in, two three, out, two three. If only I could actually deliberately have an episode from right now until the end of the game. That would just about be perfect.

I closed my eyes and looked inside my brain, trying to find the little version of Bec that was the basketball player. She was there at the back, crowded out by all the other little Becs that were demanding my attention. I scolded them and sent them off to sit down and have a long, hard look at themselves. They scattered and that left the basketball player Bec to come forward.

When I got back onto the court, I played so much better. My game wasn't as perfect as it had been last week but I wasn't making so many mistakes. Once I worked that out, I relaxed a bit and started to enjoy myself. I love playing basketball — controlling the ball, being part of the team, running up and down the court. It's exciting. It's fun.

It also felt good just to run around after sitting in school all day. The feeling of my heart thumping in my chest and my legs pumping underneath me was just so awesome. I felt fully alive. I laughed when I fumbled the ball and cheered and jumped when I did something right. I clapped and squealed when someone on my team did something good and encouraged them when they did something wrong.

Sabrina picked up my mood and joined in the laughter. Soon the entire team was just laughing and calling out encouragement and cheering each other and giving high fives at every excuse. We were all playing better and we were all having so much fun. Even the other team picked up our mood and started having more fun — they'd been so serious at the start of the game — so very competitive. I was almost disappointed when the whistle blew for the end of the game. I say almost because my legs were feeling a bit tired from all the running.

We all laughed and hugged and high-fived each other. Then we went over and thanked the other team for the game and everyone was nice to each other. That doesn't happen as often as it should.

I don't even know what the final score was.

-------

I kept my back to the open doorway in the shower cubicle. I didn't want to know if anyone was looking at me. And if they did look at me, I didn't want them to see anything except my back. I guess I was still a bit hyped up after the game because it didn't worry me as much as I thought it would — showering in front of whoever was in the changing room like that. It worried me, just not as much as I thought it would.

I kept my back to the doorway as I dressed as well - especially when I put my bra on. I carefully stuffed tissues into one side so that it would look like I had two equal-sized little boobs. Hopefully the blouse would hide them anyway, but I figured better safe than sorry. Then I put some extra tissues into both sides. I patted my new padded boobs into shape and then decided I'd overdone it and had to pull some of the tissues back out. The skirt, blouse and jacket had survived the journey wrinkle-free so far. I would have to be careful sitting in the car to keep them that way.

The changing rooms had one of those wall hair dryers. I stood there with my brush and had my hair blowing out sideways as I dried it. Sabrina was sitting on a bench watching me dry and brush my hair. She made a nice comment about my clothes and asked me if I had a hot date and what was he like?"

I rolled my eyes. "Sure I have a hot date. He's about fifty years old and he's married. He's rich though, so that makes it alright."

Sabrina gave me big eyes. "Bec! I'm shocked! I never picked you as being like that."

I think she knew I was kidding. I think she was just going along with the story for the fun of it. I hope she knew I was kidding.

"It's the father of some people from school. He invited me to a family dinner because of some stuff that happened."

"Whatever!" Sabrina shrugged. "You're looking fine. That was a great game today, by the way. You took a while to get going, but then you were good."

"You had an awesome game and what's more — you played really well right from the start. Unlike someone I could name."

We talked some more about the game while I tamed my hair and pinned it back with a barrette.

Sabrina told me she was hanging around because her older sister had a game starting soon and she had to stay and watch that before she could go home. She made it sound like a burden to watch her sister play. I asked if her sister played center too and she told me that her sister was shorter than she was and played guard. She also told me her sister hated having a younger sister who was taller than her and she kept on giving Sabrina grief about it. I kind of knew what she meant because sometimes Tara complains that I'm the same size as her even though I'm younger.

I put on my lipstick and a hint of eyeshadow — I was getting pretty good at doing that. I put the makeup back in my little clip-purse and dropped that in the pocket of my jacket.

-------

Dad was sitting and watching the current game while he waited for me. He saw me walk across the front of the bleachers and came down to join me. He did insist on taking out his mobile phone and taking a picture of me against a wall of the stadium. That was embarrassing. Apparently all the photos that got taken yesterday weren't enough. At least I think there were a lot of photos taken yesterday. I sighed and put up with it. I'd given up on complaining to Dad about having my photo taken years ago.

I waved goodbye to Sabrina and watched as she went over and joined her sister. Both Sabrina and her sister have that really, really dark ebony skin that some African Americans have. I had a sudden desire to do a painting with me between the two of them. It would be from the back and show us walking away from the viewer. I would have my arms around their waists and they would each have an arm across my back. We would have to be naked of course, to get the full effect of the contrast between their dark skin and my white skin. Or maybe all three of us in some bright colored, matching basketball shorts with nothing on top. All three of us have pretty much the same sort of thin and stretchy build so the lines of our bodies would match up just beautifully.

I shook my head in disgust. I'd spent way too much time looking at Mom's pictures of naked me. Now I was wanting to paint my own nude pictures of myself. That can't be right.

But it would be such an awesome painting. The stretched curves of our legs and torsos would create a repeating vertical pattern across the page. Then on top of that would be the interesting shape of our arms. Their arms would make an "X" across my back and that would merge into the horizontal lines of my arms spread out across their waists — giving the legs of the "X" extra long tails.

It would make such an awesome painting.

I had my eyes closed as I projected the picture — fully painted — on the inside of my skull.

It was such an awesome image that it made me forget where Dad was driving me.

Almost.



-------

Chapter 40: Monday Evening Part 1

"Dad! Pull over."

"Okay honey, I can pull in just up ahead. What is it? Are you going to be sick?"

"No, it's not that. I'm just not sure if I can do this."

My brain had been busy keeping me distracted up to this point. Then suddenly it hit home what I was about to do.

"What is it about all this that's worrying you?"

"I'm just about to go to dinner with people I hardly know. They're all going to be watching me — noticing everything I do, expecting me to talk. If I do something wrong or make mistakes or whatever it will be really obvious. I don't know what they expect from me. I don't know what's going to happen. I must have been crazy to say I would do this."

"If it's too much, then I have my phone here. We can call them and say you can't make it. But before we do that, think about this. Why did Mr DiMartino invite you?"

I had to search my memories to find the answer to that. My memory files for Sunday were still all in the wrong order — maybe I was never going to get them sorted.

"He said that he wanted to thank me and Dan for helping Laura at the party."

"Do you think that someone who wanted to do that would be critical of you?"

"I guess not."

"I think they expect you to be yourself."

"Oh!"

I was looking down at my hands folded in my lap. One of my thumbs was doing little circles on the back of my other hand. It was interesting how the skin on my hand shifted and moved around so that my thumb didn't actually slide across my skin. It was the skin on my hand that moved around, sliding over the bones beneath it.

Dad reached out and used one finger under my chin to move my head so that I was looking at him.

"Honey, I'm not going to force you to do this. And I'm not going to stop you from doing this. Whatever you decide will be fine with me."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Dad." Maybe that was about half genuine and half sarcastic. His comment was supportive but not helpful.

"It doesn't matter what happens tonight. I'm already proud of you for what you did on Friday night. I know you don't like Laura very much but as soon as you realized that she might be in trouble, you went straight back into that house to help her. I can't tell you how proud that makes me. I'm so proud I could burst."

Dad sighed and glanced around the inside of the car.

"I'm just hoping I don't burst in here. Someone would have one hell of a job getting all the bits of me out of the upholstery. And I'd splatter all over your nice clothes. That would be a shame."

I laughed. "Don't worry, Dad. We'd glue you back together again. They make much better glue nowadays than they were using when Humpty Dumpty was around."

Dad laughed too. "I think with you girls and your mother on the job that I'd have a better chance of the job being done properly. I mean the king's horses? How did they expect horses to be able to stick Humpty together? And all the king's men? That's a lot of men. They would have been tripping over each other all the time — and getting trodden on by all the horses. That was a project that was doomed to fail before they even got started."

We both had a good laugh about that. I grabbed Dad's hand and squeezed it. "Thanks, Dad, I needed that. Now you better drive me to the DiMartino house. I don't want to be late."

I had decided that I was going to cope by pretending to be Little Miss Normal. If it had worked for me at school then there was no reason why it wouldn't work here. I sat upright and put a confident expression on my face.

The thing I was most unsure about was how Laura was going to behave towards me and what I would do about that. I guess I would have to cross that bridge when I came to it.

He looked at me for a moment — probably to check that I was serious — and then he put the car back into gear and released the parking brake.

-------

Melissa opened the front door of the big DiMartino house. She was wearing a simple knee-length crushed-silk dress with short sleeves and a jewel-neck top. It was a coral color and she was wearing it with a broad, dark brown, cloth belt. It was simple but elegant. The whole concept of people my age wearing nice clothes and looking elegant is still new to me. I guess when you're a child, if you dress nicely then the best you can hope for is to look pretty. Melissa looked beautiful. We said hello to each other and said nice things about each other's clothes.

She asked me about Dan and I told her that he couldn't make it. I think she was a little disappointed. I guess despite all her elegance and poise, Melissa wasn't immune to Dan's charms. She took my jacket and hung it on a wooden coat stand that stood next to the door. I did a quick check that my blouse hadn't wrinkled up — which it hadn't — and Little Miss Normal was ready.

Melissa led me through into a formal looking sitting room. Mrs DiMartino and two young boys were sitting quietly. As soon as I entered the room they stood up. Mr DiMartino had been standing in front of a gas heater that was made up to look like a big log fire. It looked very real, not fake like other things like that I'd seen. He came over to me and shook my hand. I apologized that Dan couldn't attend because he was working. He kept calling me Rebecca and I bit my lip to stop myself from telling him to call me Bec. On the other hand it helped because it kept reminding me to be Little Miss Rebecca and not shy little Bec.

It suddenly occurred to me that maybe I should have phoned earlier in the afternoon and let them know that Dan wasn't coming. I managed to say something like that and apologized for not calling. Mr DiMartino waved away my apology. He said that if I'd called, he would have offered for me to bring someone else as a guest, perhaps my friend from school ... he clicked his fingers and Melissa said, "Her friend is Elizabeth Davidson, Father."

I figured out that in his own way, he was trying to make me feel comfortable. He was telling me that if I didn't have Dan with me, then I could have had someone else so that I wouldn't be on my own. I also figured out that Mr DiMartino wasn't happy that Dan had used a part-time job as an excuse for missing his dinner. It seemed like Mr DiMartino was used to having things happen his way.

Mr DiMartino introduced me to his wife and his two boys, Frederick and Benjamin. I would guess that Frederick was about seven or eight and Benjamin was maybe two years younger. I carefully shook their hands when I was introduced. Then Mrs DiMartino pointed to a padded armchair and indicated that I should sit. Melissa and the two boys sat on a sofa and Mrs DiMartino resumed her seat on another sofa. Mr DiMartino returned to his post in front of the fireplace.

I sat on the front half of the seat of the armchair and kept my back straight. I looked around curiously. Laura's absence from the room shouted at me louder than a foghorn.

"We have a few minutes before dinner is served so we can use this time to talk."

I swallowed and told Little Miss Normal that she was here now and she should just get used to it. She had a performance to put on and she better just perform.

"Melissa tells me you play basketball," said Mr DiMartino.

I nodded and mentioned how I'd played basketball that afternoon. Mrs DiMartino prompted me a few times and I found myself explaining how I played each week at the community center and how long I'd been playing and so on. Again in response to questions from Mrs DiMartino, I talked about going to the pro-basketball game on the previous Thursday.

I was kind of proud of myself that I managed to answer the questions and keep talking like that. I didn't expect that I would be able to do that. I guess I wasn't giving big long answers like most people would have done but I was talking. I patted Little Miss Rebecca on the back, she was doing well.

I guess my unexpected success made me feel brave because somehow I managed to squeeze in a question.

"Is Laura going to be joining us?"

"No, she is not," replied Mr DiMartino. "Laura is confined to her room. She will eat later in the kitchen with the cook."

"Oh!" I looked down at the floor, for a moment and then up at Mr DiMartino.

"I hope that isn't because I'm here."

Mr DiMartino looked at me with a flat face. It was like he was trying not to show any expression but somehow I could tell he didn't want to be talking about this. Maybe he's just not as good at stone-face as Mom and Miss Webster are.

"Laura has been confined to her room and the kitchen since Saturday evening. I expect it will be some days yet before she is ready to rejoin the family. Your presence here is not relevant to her situation."

"Oh!"

I looked around the room — mostly looking at the spaces between the people. I find that it's easier to think if I'm not looking at someone. But I've been told that if I spend too long looking at the floor then people who don't know me might think I was being rude — so I looked at the spaces between the people.

I was a bit confused. Then I realized that the Mr DiMartino's statement was code for him having told Laura that she wasn't part of the family and he would invite her back in when he felt like it. That seemed bizarre to me. Whenever Tara or I did something wrong, we got a punishment or a lecture or whatever, but then the next thing that always happened was that our parents went out of their way to demonstrate that we were still part of the family — still loved, still cared for, still wanted.

It sounded like this family worked the opposite way. Here, the children were a part of the family until they did something wrong. When that happened not only were they punished, but they were also thrown out for a short time — not actually thrown out of the house, but thrown out of the family. I guess all the talk about sending Laura away to boarding school was an extreme version of that. It seemed wrong. Just at the time when they had the most need to be reassured and told they were loved, they were cut off from their family. How could that be right?

In a way, I was disappointed that Laura wasn't going to be eating with us. It made things feel a bit weird. I know I hadn't been looking forward to having her there, but I had decided it was something I would just have to deal with. I had myself all prepared to face her. Now I wasn't going to get to do that.

I was able to cover up my confusion because a slightly older Mexican woman knocked on the door and informed Mr DiMartino that dinner was nearly ready to be served. He replied that we would seat ourselves immediately and that there was only one guest instead of two. Everyone stood up and filed towards the dining room. Mr DiMartino held a chair out for me until I sat on it and then went and sat at the head of the table. I was on his left and there was an empty place set next to me which obviously would have been for Dan if he had been able to come. Next to that was Frederick, the older of the two boys. Opposite me was an empty chair with no place setting in front of it. My guess was that it was normally Laura's place. Next to that was Melissa and next to her was Benjamin — the youngest.

Mr DiMartino instructed the cook to remove the place setting next to me and to start serving as soon as she was ready. I had been watching the way Mr DiMartino behaved towards me as a guest. I realized that I had an opportunity to do something a bit extreme and that I would be able to do it because I was a guest. I guess I was also a bit disturbed by the way Laura was being kept out when this was supposed to be about me having helped her. I guess he kind of provoked my feisty side.

I had a sudden idea. I guess it was like an inspiration or something. Feisty Bec really liked the idea because it was over the top and subtle at the same time. And Mr DiMartino would be forced to accept it happening despite it being completely against his wishes. Feisty Bec was almost giggling with glee.

"Excuse me for a moment. Mr DiMartino, you said that I would've been able to bring a guest with me this evening. Did you mean that?"

"Of course I meant it." He seemed a little offended that I would question that he would ever say something he didn't mean.

"Is the offer still open?"

"We are just about to serve dinner, there isn't time for..."

I cut him off. "Thank you, sir. This won't take more than two minutes." I turned to the cook. "Please leave the place setting,"

I slid off the chair and walked back out of the room. I knew where I was going because I had been there once before. I found Laura's room and knocked on the door. I heard a noise from inside so I opened the door and walked in. Laura was wearing hot-pink fleecy pants and a close-fitting, long-sleeved midriff top of the same color. She was stretched out on the bed on her stomach with ipod earpieces in her ears.

As soon as she realized it was me, she tugged the earpieces out of her ears and sat up.

"What do you want?"

"You're invited to dinner. Hurry up and get dressed, they're just about to serve."

"Huh?"

"You're invited to dinner. Get up quickly. You better change clothes."

Laura shook her head in disbelief but she slid off her bed and walked into her closet. Oh, yeah! She has a walk-in closet.

I think it must have taken fifteen seconds at the most before she emerged wearing a dress. She turned her back on me and said, "Zip me," so I did. She slipped her feet into a pair of low pumps and we headed back towards the dining room. The entire change took less than twenty seconds. I think it was a new world record for a woman to do a complete change of outfit.

I walked into the dining room holding Laura firmly by the hand. I didn't want her backing out on me. She looked a bit uncertain about me holding her hand. I mean after all, we really don't like each other very much. I guess she was still so surprised by what I was doing that she didn't think to complain. I had my head up and was showing a lot more confidence than I was feeling. As I entered the room, everyone stood up again. I walked right up to Mr DiMartino.

"Sir, I'd like you to meet my guest for the evening. Her name is Laura. The two of us are delighted to accept your invitation to dinner."

I watched Mr DiMartino with steady eyes. I was almost daring him to take back his offer for me to bring a guest. I didn't think he would.

In my head I pictured Laura sticking her hand out when she was introduced and making her father shake her hand as if they'd never met before. That would have been just perfect. Sadly Laura didn't do that, she just stood there so my perfect scene had to stay in my head. Working with Laura was so much harder than I was used to. If I'd done this with Tara, she would have figured out what I was doing as soon as I spoke to her father and she would have gone through the whole introductions routine and maybe even gone into some of that small talk people do when they've just been introduced for the very first time. Even Liz would have taken just the littlest of prods from me and she would have gotten it and done the shaking hands thing. Laura just stood there. Obviously she hadn't gotten me yet. But then, that had always been the problem. Laura didn't get me, so she thought I was a freak.

"Shall we be seated?"

Mr DiMartino still looked a bit bewildered. I realize that I was only out of the room for about two minutes, but two minutes is a long time. He should have worked out what I was up to after two minutes. It shouldn't have been such a surprise. But that was a good thing for me. The longer it took for him to get his head around me bringing Laura as a guest to his own dining table, the more I could achieve before he got around to objecting. If I were lucky, he never would.

I moved to the chair next to mine and held it out for Laura. I waited for her to sit and then I pushed it in. I was deliberately imitating what Mr DiMartino had done for me. Laura was looking a bit confused but she went along with it. I did notice her flinch a little when she sat on the chair — there was virtually no padding on the seat — and that reminded me that Laura had a sore butt.

I moved to my chair and stood there, waiting for Mr DiMartino to repeat his chair holding trick with me. He saw me standing there and his training overcame his confusion as he carefully held the chair for me and then pushed it in as I sat. The whole little ritual seems absurd to me — does it mean that I'm incapable of sitting in a chair without help? I'm not sure what it means but I know it's something that's done when people are being posh so I just went along with it.

I sat and looked around the table while Mr DiMartino returned to his own chair and settled himself into his place. Laura was looking a bit confused and shooting me seriously savage looks. Mrs DiMartino was glancing back and forth between her husband and Laura. Melissa was looking at me with big, wide eyes, but when she saw me notice her she dropped her gaze to the table. The two boys seemed to be oblivious to everything but the possibility of food. Mr DiMartino still looked a bit unsure of himself. I counted that as a positive.

I noticed he was a tiny bit higher than I would have expected. It took me about three seconds to solve that puzzle. His chair was a slightly different design from all the rest. It had exactly the same fabric and exactly the same back so it didn't look out of place, but the legs were carved differently. It was as if at some time, one of the chairs in the set had been broken and a replacement had been found that matched as closely as possible. The biggest difference was that the seat was an inch or two higher than all the others.

Dad had once told me that some bosses will deliberately sit in a higher chair so that the other people in the meeting are forced to look up to him. Dad described it as a nasty little trick that makes the bosses feel more important than they really are. And either deliberately or accidentally, Mr DiMartino was pulling that nasty little trick on his own family — and on me.

I guess I was already running a little bit mad at Mr DiMartino about his attitude towards Laura and towards me and that is why I'd pulled the stunt of inviting Laura as my guest. Well, seeing Mr DiMartino doing that just made me madder. It really brought out the feisty side of me. It seemed to take no time at all before I had a plan. It was a good plan too, because it would solve another problem at the same time. But it was also a bad plan, because I was probably about to be downright rude to Mr DiMartino — just in case I hadn't done that already.

I looked down the table to Mrs DiMartino. I smiled as sweetly as I could and used my politest voice.

"Excuse me, but this table is a tiny bit higher than I'm used to and I'm petrified of spilling something and making a mess. Would it be possible for me to have a couple of cushions to sit on? That would be so kind."

There was a tiny smidgeon of truth in that because the table was just a fraction higher than I was used to, but seriously...

Mrs DiMartino blinked at me a couple of times as if she was puzzled by the request but she was too good a hostess to say no. She sent Frederick running off to the TV room to fetch a couple of chair cushions. He returned, slightly out of breath, and very politely handed me two flat cushions.

I smiled warmly at Frederick and thanked him as earnestly as I could. I half expected him to do a little curtsey or something, but he didn't, he just did an imitation of an owl at me and then returned to his own chair — oh wait, curtseys are just for girls. Maybe he could have done a little bow or something.

I carefully sat on one cushion and did a little pantomime about checking the height of the table. I made it look as if I was satisfied with just the one cushion so I put the spare cushion down beside my chair.

Then I appeared to suddenly notice that now I was taller than Laura.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. You must think I'm being terribly rude, sitting up high like this and towering over my guest. Here, you should sit on the spare cushion and then we'll both be the same height."

Laura seemed to be in a daze as I prompted her to lift up so that I could slide the cushion underneath her. I could almost feel the mental sigh of relief that went through her as she sat down on the now well-padded seat. I don't think she figured out what I was doing until the instant when she sat on the cushion. Her eyes sprang open and she stared at me.

"There," I said, smiling broadly. "Now we're back to being the same height. It's just perfect."

Laura was looking startled. "Thank you," she said quietly. Then her eyes went narrow as she tried to figure out what I could possibly gain by doing this for her.

Mrs DiMartino was staring at me with a curious look in her eye — I think she was trying to work out if I knew about Laura's sore butt, and if so, how I knew about it. But I had done it in such a way that I hadn't admitted that I knew. That meant she couldn't comment about it either. I was feeling a bit proud of that little move.

Melissa was looking at me with a perfectly straight face but a sparkle in her eye told me that she had noticed both targets of what I had just done. It was like I had let off both barrels of a shotgun, shooting two different targets at the same time — wait, can you actually do that with a double-barrelled shotgun? The two boys were staring at me as if I'd just invented double-chip, chocolate ice-cream right in front of them.

Benjamin, whose chin was only a few inches above the level of the table, turned to his mother. "Mother, may I please go and fetch a cushion to sit on?"

"May I also?" chimed in Frederick.

She nodded and told them to hurry and to tell cook to start serving as they went past the kitchen.

"So Mrs DiMartino, what are we having?" I asked, wanting to fill the silence while we waited for the boys to return. Laura was peering at me out of the corner of her eyes. I think she was trying to figure out what the heck I was doing.

"I believe it is to be beef medallions with a red wine and mushroom sauce. I hope that will be satisfactory."

"It sounds wonderful. What do you think, Laura? Will beef medallions be satisfactory for you?"

Laura blinked at me and then she nodded.

I smiled at Mrs DiMartino. "The meal sounds perfectly satisfactory for both of us. Thank you very much."

The two boys returned and positioned the cushions on their chairs. I noticed Melissa quietly holding the cushion still for Benjamin to help him sit. Then she patted his arm gently before folding her hands back in her lap.

The cook had followed the boys in with a plate of food in each hand. She placed one in front of me. I thanked her and looked down at the plate. It was laid out nicely with the neat, circular beef medallion evenly coated with a layer of the sauce. There was also a perfect half-sphere of mashed potato and some string-beans, all lined up in a row.

The cook placed the other plate in front of Mr DiMartino and then she turned to leave the room.

"Oh! Excuse me," I said. "You forgot my guest."

I carefully picked up the plate in front of me and placed it in front of Laura. I had to half-stand out of my chair to do that without tipping the plate. Then I sat back down and smiled calmly around the table.

"Oh, er ... yes ... of course," said Mr DiMartino.

He was still obviously unsure how to react to what I was doing. He signalled to the cook, who came back to the table and moved the plate from in front of him and placed it in front of me. Then she turned and left the room at a brisk walk. I'm sure I saw an amused grin spread across her face as she turned away from the table.

Mr DiMartino stood up and walked across to the lovely oak sideboard that sat against one wall of the room. He picked up a bottle of wine from where it had been sitting on a tray. There was also a jug of water on the tray with a couple of ice-cubes floating in it.

"Would you like a small glass of wine with your meal, or would you prefer water?"

I blinked at him as I puzzled what to do. I had a little wine occasionally with my parents, but I wasn't what you could call experienced at drinking wine. I glanced around the table and saw that every place had a wine glass and a glass tumbler — except the two boys, they just had glass tumblers. I decided to just go with whatever Laura was having.

I turned to Laura. "Would you like wine or water?"

Laura had composed herself and was sitting upright and confident. "I'll have wine, thank you."

Little Bec jumped gleefully up and down inside my head. Laura had caught up with me and was playing along.

I smiled up at Mr DiMartino. "Thank you. We'll both have a glass of wine."

He poured me about two-thirds of a glass. "Thank you," I said, as politely as I could.

Then he poured about the same for Laura. "Thank you, sir," she said.

He moved around the table pouring a full glass for his wife, who said "Thank you," and a two-thirds glass for Melissa, who said "Thank you, sir."

Then he returned to the sideboard and fetched the jug of water so that he could pour a glass of water for the two boys. They each dutifully said "Thank you, sir," as he did so.

In the meantime, the cook had returned with three plates of food which she balanced on her arms. She served the two adults and Melissa and then left again. Finally she brought in plates for the two boys. I noticed that Benjamin was served exactly the same meal as the rest of us, except that it was a smaller serving. Frederick's meal had the sauce in a little puddle off to the side of the meat instead of spread over the top. I watched out of the side of my eyes as the cook placed the plate in front of him and then whispered into his ear for a moment. I could see Frederick looking doubtful but then nodding. I think he was promising to give the sauce a try. The cook squeezed his shoulder and stood up straight so that she was facing Mr DiMartino.

"Will that be all, sir?"

Her voice had soft, warm quality that seemed out of place in this cold place. Her faint Mexican accent gave her words a musical quality.

He dismissed her with a wave and she retreated to the kitchen.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief and picked up my knife and fork. This food looked delicious. Then I noticed that nobody else had moved.

"We usually say grace before we start," explained Mr DiMartino.

I apologized and I carefully placed the knife and fork back in exactly the same position as they had been before folding my hands back in my lap. We didn't say grace at home but Mom and Dad had often commented that many families did and that it was something we should respect any time we were with a family that did that. I watched out of the corner of my eyes to see what the others were doing. I wasn't sure if we would all join hands or hold our hands up in the air or what. They all just sat with their hands in their laps and put their heads down so I did the same. Mr DiMartino said a prayer giving thanks for the food and then everyone said "Amen," so I joined in with that.

I kept watching as Laura and Melissa both immediately picked up their wine glasses and took a tiny sip before replacing the glasses on the table. I did the same. The wine had quite a rich flavor — richer than I expected.

"This is very good wine, sir," said Laura, still sounding all confident and sure of herself.

Mr DiMartino seemed to pretend she hadn't spoken. He just picked up his cloth napkin and carefully folded it in his lap. I took the hint and copied him.

Then everyone picked up their utensils and started eating, so I decided it was safe to do the same. The beef was beautifully tender and the mushroom sauce was just awesome. I felt bad about ruining the perfectly smooth ball of mashed potato but I guess that was expected. I decided the cook must have used an ice-cream scoop to make the ball all smooth like that. It was a good idea that I hadn't seen before.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Frederick held a slice of beef on his fork and tentatively dipped just the tip of it into the sauce. He tasted it and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. He did exactly the same thing a second time. Finally, he smeared a more generous amount of sauce onto the next piece. He had obviously decided that it was acceptable. I wanted to smile and pat him on the shoulder and encourage him but it was awkward because Laura was sitting between me and him. I nudged Laura and once I had her attention, I nodded at Frederick who was now enthusiastically eating the mushroom sauce with his meat. Laura just rolled her eyes at me and took another sip of wine.

Little Bec inside my head scowled at Laura. Obviously she hadn't understood what I wanted her to do.

I took another sip of my own wine and used the moment to glance around the table. Everyone was concentrating on eating, which I suppose is normal for the first couple of minutes of a meal.

I tried to think what Little Miss Rebecca should do next. Obviously sitting there silently for the entire meal wasn't an option, even if that was what I wanted to do.

I complimented Mrs DiMartino on the meal and said that I'd love to find out the recipe.

"Thank you, Rebecca. I'm afraid you will have to ask cook about the recipe. She has been with us for five years now and she still surprises us with new dishes. The last time we had something like this, the sauce had quite a different flavor. Do you cook?"

"I'm learning. My mother and my grandmother seem to have made it their mission in life to make sure that we can all cook properly. I think my brother, Dan, decided that once he could cook steak and eggs that he knew everything he needed to know. Tara and I both enjoy it though, and we either do the cooking ourselves or help in the kitchen whenever we can."

"It's one of the great regrets of my life," said Mrs DiMartino, "that I never learned how to cook. Not that I have much time for things like that of course. Because of my work you understand."

I was about to ask her about her job which would keep the attention on her for a while, but Mr DiMartino intervened.

"Melissa tells me you are something of an artist."

"Oh! Yes, I like to draw, and I'm learning how to do oil painting from my mother. I think I'm getting better but it takes a long time. Melissa, don't you do ballet or something like that? You would know what I mean about how long it takes."

Melissa nodded at me. "I do ballet and jazz. I've been learning dance since I was four. I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes you suddenly make a jump forwards but most of the time you have to work and work and it seems to take forever to get anywhere."

Melissa and I shared a smile. It was nice to find something we had in common.

Mr DiMartino cleared his throat. "You and Melissa are in the same class, are you not?"

I nodded. "That's true."

"Melissa keeps telling me that she has no friends at all at school. In your estimation, is that true, or is she merely being melodramatic?"

"Oh!" I watched as Melissa's cheeks went pink and she looked down at her plate. I thought it was a pretty horrible comment for a father to make — especially right in front of her.

"I guess it's true. She keeps mostly to herself."

"I have a theory that she has spent too long in the shadow of her more flamboyant sister. I believe she needs to step out on her own and be more assertive."

I just couldn't believe that he was saying all this in front of her. Even my parents probably wouldn't say things like this — probably ... maybe ... I hope. I wanted to somehow defend Melissa but I sensed a minefield lurking just around the corner.

"I don't think it's as simple as that, sir."

"Oh? In what way is it not that simple?"

Yup, there's that minefield. I licked my lips and glanced across at Melissa but she was looking down at her plate, stirring some mushroom sauce into her potato.

"People tend to keep away from her a bit."

"Do you mean they avoid her? Why would they do that? What is she doing wrong?"

"It's nothing she's doing wrong. It's just that ... um."

Kaboom!

That was the sound of one landmine exploding right in my face. I had no idea how to finish that sentence. I mean, I knew the answer to his question. I just had no idea how to finish it without saying something I really, really didn't want to say.

I took a sip of wine, frantically trying to find a path out of the minefield. Or maybe I was hoping that the wine would suddenly make me drunk enough to not care about all the explosions that were about to happen around me.

Laura was staring at me like she was wishing she could melt me into a puddle with just the power of her eyes.

I saw Mr DiMartino's eyes flick sideways to Laura and then back to me — as if it had just occurred to him that maybe Laura had something to do with Melissa's lack of friends.

I watched as he took a sip of wine and I recognized it as a stalling tactic. That wasn't hard since I'd only just done exactly the same thing. Feisty Bec was completely in control and she wasn't going to let Mr DiMartino drag me through any more mines. I needed a distraction, and fast.

I leaned forward so that I could see Frederick on the other side of Laura.

"Frederick, what about you? Do you have lots of friends at school?"

"Yeah, I have a bunch of friends. My best friend is Oscar."

As I hoped, Frederick had missed the unspoken stuff and just followed that we were talking about having friends at school. He was happy to talk about his friend Oscar until I asked if he played any sports. Then he told me how he and Benjamin both played Little League baseball in the spring and the two of them proceeded to explain to me everything I needed to know about the game and their part in it.

Everyone took the opportunity to finish eating. Apparently Mr DiMartino was willing to go along with the distraction. Maybe he wanted time to think. It was interesting to listen to Frederick and Benjamin talking. I mean the baseball talk was interesting enough, even though I already knew at least half of what they were telling me. What was more interesting was how they talked. It was as if they were each having a separate conversation with me about the same subject except that they were each carefully taking turns talking. They were being polite and didn't try to talk over the top of each other or anything, they each just waited until the other stopped for a breath and then the other one would start up again from wherever they had left off previously. I made the right noises and asked a couple of questions but mostly they were both content to talk to me without needing me to say anything.

My basketball game had made me hungry so I had no difficulty finishing the food on the plate. I carefully put the knife and fork together on the plate the way I had been taught and sat back. Melissa and her parents had finished eating also. They had done the same thing with their knives and forks so that was a relief. Laura was pushing the remains of her meal around on her plate with her fork.

The boys' discussion of baseball wound down and Mrs DiMartino steered the conversation back to art. She started by talking about some time she spent in Florence, Italy, and how much she had enjoyed visiting the various art galleries there and seeing all the statues in the streets and the carvings in the churches. She brought me into the conversation of course, which is why she started up that topic. That wasn't too hard for me since Mom has been taking me to art shows and galleries since before I could walk. I wouldn't be surprised if Mom had stopped and showed me the artwork hanging on the walls in the hospital on the day I was born. I couldn't remember that, of course, but I could remember art I'd seen and discussed with Mom in various places since then.

I mentioned that I had been to the Louvre in Paris when I was five or six. The DiMartino family had all visited there a year ago so that gave us something in common to talk about. Mrs DiMartino seemed surprised at how well I remembered some of the paintings and statues given how young I had been at the time. Most of the place is just a blur to me but I have very distinct and clear memories of five different paintings and three different statues. It didn't seem that weird to me — after all, Mom had picked out those particular ones and we'd spent time looking at them together and talking about them. Why wouldn't I remember them?

I asked Laura if she remembered any particular painting at the Louvre. She just shook her head. Laura seemed to be troubled by something but I didn't have a chance to work out what was bothering her. I asked Melissa the same question about the Louvre. She remembered the Mona Lisa of course, but she also remembered seeing a gigantic painting of a crowd scene at a feast. I figured out she was describing the Wedding at Cana by Veronese which I think is the largest painting at the Louvre. It really is huge, something like thirty feet across and twenty feet high. I started describing it and Melissa nodded along with me to say I had picked the right one.

The bottom half of the painting is crowded with people at a feast — all of them busy and active — either talking or playing instruments or eating or moving around. The top half is just bright open blue sky framed by soaring columns. The figure of Jesus with a halo sits bang in the middle of the crowd wearing a bright blue robe which makes a straight diagonal line across his chest. Since the robe is the only bright blue in the crowd while the rest are mostly dull colors and since the line across his chest makes the only hard diagonal line in the entire painting while all the rest of the lines are vertical (or person shaped), it makes you focus attention on that one person out of the entire crowd.

That is what art discussions with my Mom have been like since before I was six. Except they are more like question and answer sessions: What do you notice first? What's different between the top half and the bottom half? What makes you think that man is Jesus? What else about the painting makes you look at that man? What's your favorite part of the painting? I remember that my favorite part was the two dogs playing in the front — I suppose it still is.

Mom would also tell me the story behind the painting — in this case she told me about how the painting showed the story from the Bible about Jesus attending a wedding where they ran out of wine so he solved the problem by turning some water into wine. I thought that was weird because in the painting, nobody seemed to be drinking much wine — or complaining that their wine glasses were empty.

Mom also said that some people thought that the wedding was actually Jesus getting married even though it never says that in the Bible and it never mentions him having a wife. I said that maybe Veronese agreed because he put Jesus in the middle of the wedding table where the man and his wife would sit — and the woman next to him would be his wife. Mom had shrugged and said that most people thought that woman was the mother of Jesus but since painters aren't required to explain their painting, most people could be wrong and I could be right. Then she asked me to find another woman in the painting who could be the bride and I couldn't — in the whole crowd there were maybe six other women and they were all minor figures. I remember trying to convince Mom that meant it had to be his wedding since what's the point of having a wedding feast without a bride so the woman must be the bride and who was the bride sitting next to — Jesus. Mom had replied that paintings don't have to be realistic. Then she'd launched into a big long story about monks that was supposed to answer my questions but I didn't really understand it and I don't remember it.

Mrs DiMartino asked me about places in the U.S. and I admitted that the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York was at the top of my list of places in the U.S. that I hadn't seen yet but that I wanted to visit. I asked Laura and she muttered that she'd been there but didn't remember much about it. I explained that we hadn't done much travelling around since moving from the U.K. We made one trip to Disney World — that had been pretty exciting. While we were there, we'd spent a bit of time looking at an exhibition displaying single frames from the various cartoons and movies. Some of that is pretty impressive artwork. I think I surprised Mrs DiMartino when I said that. It seemed as if when she thought of good artwork she was mostly thinking of oil paintings. The idea that the drawings that were done for a children's animated cartoon could be great art seemed to be a new idea for her.

The cook came in and started clearing the dishes. She made sure that she cleared my plate and Laura's plate first which I thought was a good thing. I told her how much I liked the mushroom sauce and she thanked me. Mr DiMartino gestured to Melissa and they both stood up. Mr DiMartino poured another glass of wine for himself and his wife while Melissa walked around the table pouring chilled water for herself and Laura and me and topped up the boys glasses.

I excused myself and asked for the bathroom. Laura leaped out of her chair and offered to show me where it was.

She led me down the hallway that led to her room and pointed at the bathroom door but she stopped me before I could go in.

"Were you serious when you said people were avoiding being friends with Melissa because of me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Maybe not, but that's what you meant, wasn't it?"

I hesitated for a moment before I nodded. I was worried that she was going to be really angry with me.

"I don't mean just the weirdos. I mean everyone. Does everyone avoid her because of me?"

Since she was asking the question, I figured that she knew the answer. I didn't say anything, I just nodded again.

Laura slapped the side of her head.

"Shit! I didn't believe her, shit!"

Of all possible reactions, I never expected her to be angry with herself.

"Melissa's absolutely miserable at school. She hates going there. She keeps saying she has no friends and that nobody will talk to her. She doesn't know that I know this, but sometimes she comes home and cries. A couple of times she told me it was all my fault because I scared people off. I thought she was just whining. I thought she was just making excuses. Shit!"

I could actually see moisture building in the corner of her eyes.

"It wasn't like that. I was protecting her. She's not good at social stuff. I had to stop her from falling in with the wrong types. I was helping her. I was keeping all the losers and the freaks away from her, that's all."

She was talking about the freaks like me. But I couldn't say that out loud. I suppose there are some people at school to keep away from. I didn't say anything.

"Fuck!"

She pointed at the bathroom and turned away towards her own room without saying another word.

The bathroom was huge and sparkling. You could hold a party in there. I used the toilet and washed my hands. Then I touched up my lipstick and checked my hair in the mirror. I also checked my clothes to make sure I hadn't spilled any food but somehow I seemed to have avoided that disaster so far.

I emerged from the bathroom and Laura was waiting for me. She was leaning against the wall opposite the door of the bathroom. I stopped and looked at her.

She was staring at me as if I were some exhibit in a museum and the label was missing.

"I don't get it. I don't get why you're doing this. I don't get why you're here. I really don't get why you invited me into dinner as your guest."

I wasn't sure I understood it either so I just shrugged at her.

"You hate me but you pulled me out of that party and now you've done this. That was probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me — and inviting me to dinner like that — and the stuff with the cushion."

There didn't seem to be much to say to that so I said nothing.

"I just don't get it."

She was staring at me as if I was some puzzle she had to solve.

I hoped that if she solved it, she would tell me. I wanted to know too.

I gestured back towards the dining room.

"We should head back."

So far the evening had been very interesting — a bit scary at times, but always interesting.

I wondered what else was going to happen.

I wondered what else I was going to do.



-------

Chapter 41: Monday Evening Part 2



The cook served dessert almost as soon as we returned to the dining room. She served Laura first and then me. I smiled at her when she did that and she winked at me. Then she served the two parents and the other children. Dessert was a slice of home-made apple crumble — fairly similar to the way Mom makes it. There was custard in a little serving boat and whipped cream to go on top. The whipped cream had cinnamon whipped through it which gave it an interesting flavor. Mrs DiMartino handed the custard boat to Laura so that she could serve herself first before handing it to me. I smiled a quiet little smile to myself when I saw that.

I thought the apple crumble was delicious. Laura hardly touched hers. Frederick whined once that he hated apple but he was immediately scolded and told to be silent by Mrs DiMartino. After that he didn't make a sound. He coated the apple crumble with custard and proceeded to eat the custard and the crumble and leave as much of the apple on his plate as he thought he could get away with.

We all finished eating as much of that as we were going to and then sat around letting the food digest. There had been a few scattered discussions around the table but nothing interesting. I was watching Melissa pretty carefully. Laura's comments had made me think. I realized that she was pretty good at hiding what was going on inside her head. I also realized that the happy and cheerful Melissa was just pretense. I guess I recognized it more easily than most because I sometimes do the same thing.

After having been silent since returning from the bathroom, Laura stirred and announced, "I have something to say."

Mr DiMartino scowled. "What makes you think we are interested in hearing what you have to say? You've already said far too much this weekend."

"Father, I'm sitting here as a guest. Are you going to start being rude to your guests now? For as long as I can remember, you have been telling me how guests in our house should be treated. Are you going to break your own rules? Tonight I'm a guest. Are you going to be rude to me and turn all those countless lectures into lies?"

Laura's words were angry but she delivered the entire speech in a controlled, superior sort of tone. Mr DiMartino was less controlled.

"You are not in a position to accuse me of telling lies."

Laura just sat there, staring at her father. He blustered for a moment, but then he raised both hands in surrender and sat back.

"Well go on then. Say what you want to say."

Laura sat still for a moment with everyone watching her and waiting. I think she was composing herself, or maybe she was thinking of how to say whatever she wanted to say.

"I actually wanted to thank Rebecca and her brother for helping me at the party last Friday night. I haven't actually said it and I should. I got myself into a bad situation and I couldn't get myself out of it. I'm just glad Rebecca and her brother were able to help me and bring me home. So thank you. Will you please tell Dan as well?"

She had been looking down at the table and didn't look at me until the very end but she had sounded sincere and it had seemed important to her to say all that in front of her family so I nodded at her.

"And I have a question. Father, have you actually thanked her as well? I know you said you wanted to but I haven't actually heard you say it."

Mr DiMartino blustered a little bit. "What do you mean I haven't thanked her? This whole evening is about thanking her. Why do you think she is here?"

He turned to me and lowered his voice a bit. "You understood that, I hope. You understood that I invited you here as a thank you. That is why you are here."

"But Father, you haven't actually said it, have you?"

He spread his arms wide as if to say "Isn't it obvious?"

Melissa joined in the conversation. "Father, sometimes you have to actually say things like that. You can't always assume people will understand what you mean just by seeing what you do."

Both Laura and Mr DiMartino seemed a little bit surprised that Melissa had spoken up like that. I wondered if maybe the two of them arguing was a normal thing and that Melissa usually kept out of it. Laura relaxed back into her chair and stared curiously at Melissa. Mr DiMartino looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and then shook his head slightly and turned to me.

"Rebecca, I was always taught that actions speak louder than words. Apparently in this case my actions have not been loud enough. I do genuinely wish to thank you and your brother for helping Laura. Without your intervention, the situation would likely have become even more serious. You have my sincere gratitude."

I managed to mumble something appropriate in response. Then I realized I was mumbling and tried to get Little Miss Rebecca back, but she seemed to have abandoned me.

The cook came in to clear the plates away. When she removed my plate, she laid a folded piece of paper on the table in front of me. I smiled at her, but curiosity dragged my attention back to the piece of paper sitting on the table. I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a recipe for beef medallions with red wine and mushroom sauce. It was all in neat handwriting, in perfect English. At the bottom, she had written, "Muchas gracias. Me ha hecho feliz. Ustéd es una pequeña muy valiente. Lopita."

As far as I can tell from my four months of learning Spanish, it means something like "Thank you very much. To me (something) happy. You are one (something) and brave." It was nice to know that she had a name — Lopita. The DiMartinos didn't seem to use it very much.

Lopita had reverted to Spanish for a reason, but I wasn't sure what it was. Maybe she was worried that if it was in English her boss would see it and realize that by complimenting me, she was criticizing him. I also decided that I should pay more attention in my Spanish classes.

I smiled at her again and folded the note up small. I didn't have any pockets so I just held it in the palm of my hand.

Mr DiMartino didn't seem to know what to do next, I think he was going to suggest serving coffee but suspected I didn't drink coffee and wasn't sure whether to offer or not.

"Perhaps I should get home. I have to go to school tomorrow and today has been a long day for me. May I use your phone? I'll ring my dad and ask him to come and collect me."

"Nonsense. There is no need for your father to come out again. I will drive you home."

He stood up and that seemed to be a signal for everyone to stand up as well. I stood up and took the cushion off the seat and then carefully slid the chair back under the table. Frederick silently took the cushion from me and then picked up the one he'd been sitting on. He tucked one cushion under his arm and that allowed him to pick up the one Laura had been sitting on as well. Then he trotted out of the room to return them from wherever they came from. Benjamin followed behind him clutching his cushion in both hands.

"If you will wait for me out front, I will drive the car around," said Mr DiMartino. He followed the boys out of the room. I thanked Mrs DiMartino for having me for dinner. She smiled at me and then gestured for the two girls to escort me out the front.

Melissa held my jacket for me so that I could put it on and then I carefully tucked the cook's note into the little pocket in the front of the jacket.

The three of us stood just inside the front door where we could watch for Mr DiMartino to bring the car around. I glanced at Melissa and then looked carefully into Laura's face.

"So do you get it now?"

"No!"

Oh! I was thinking she must have figured something out after the way she launched into that little fight (maybe it was fightlet!) with her father.

I looked her straight in the eye. "I know you lied in there. But that's okay. I probably would have lied too if it was me, so it's no big deal. I just thought you should know that I know."

"I didn't lie. What are you talking about?"

"From what your father said, I'm guessing you tried lying to him about the party but he didn't believe you. You probably started off trying to blame the other girls and said they made you go. He didn't believe that, so my guess is that then you changed your story and you admitted that you agreed to go but you said that guy got you completely drunk and took advantage of you while you were out of it. How am I doing so far?"

Laura just glared at me, but I saw Melissa giving the tiniest little nod in the background so I knew I was right.

"Then in there tonight, you changed your story again. You said you accepted that you'd got yourself in a bad situation that you couldn't get out of. That must have been what your father was waiting to hear from you, because he seemed pleased to hear you say it, but that was the lie."

Laura's eyes were really narrow and she was staring at me very hard. She was trying not to give anything away but after trying to read what Mom and Miss Webster were thinking, she was a piece of cake. I was totally sure that what I was about to say was completely correct.

"When you were on that bed, you were exactly where you wanted to be. You weren't actually 'out of it' until just after I came into the room. You don't know if you could've got out of the situation or not because you didn't try. I'm right, aren't I?"

Her face had gone a bit pale. "How dare you say..."

"Shhh!" I cut her off. Amazingly enough, it worked. I seemed to have her mesmerized. "It's okay. Like I said, I would've lied too if it were me."

Suddenly I knew what I had to do. I had no idea if it would work or not, but I knew I had to try. I hoped I wouldn't hate myself in the morning for doing this.

"I want to try something." I walked up to her and put my arms around her. "Hold me."

She was still angry with me for accusing her of lying, off-balance because I'd been correct when I accused her of lying, ashamed because I knew that she deliberately went out and had sex with a stranger, and confused because I'd spent the whole night doing things she didn't expect me to do.

I suppose it wasn't surprising that she was all tense and stiff in my arms. "What are you doing?" She mumbled. I noticed she wasn't fighting me off.

I rolled my eyes a little bit. The real question should have been: what are we doing?

"Hugging!" I tried to put that "well, obviously" tone in my voice.

Her arms came around and rested lightly on my lower back. I squeezed a bit harder.

Inside my head, Little Bec was shaking her head at me. "Did you forget that this is our worst enemy? She bullies us every day at school. She's rude and obnoxious. She hates us. We hate her. Why are we hugging her?" I shrugged at Little Bec. I didn't have a good answer for that. Not one she would understand anyway.

Through the window next to the door, I saw the car lights arrive and heard the sound of the car engine.

Laura tried to push away from me. "You should go."

I squeezed tighter. "Not yet."

Melissa, who had been silently watching the two of us with absolute fascination, quietly slipped out the door to talk to her father.

"Why are we doing this?" Laura's voice was a bit muffled because I had used one hand to push her head into my shoulder. I started stroking her hair.

"I'm teaching you a lesson."

I didn't mention that this was my first time as a teacher instead of as a student. I suppose that's not totally true because I sometimes help Mom with Angie. But then I guess I'm being more like a teacher's aide. This time I was being a proper teacher, teaching my very own lesson. I didn't mention that I had absolutely no idea if I was doing the right thing or not. I wondered how often The Parents had that feeling when they were teaching us lessons. I found it hard to imagine, but I figured it must have happened occasionally. Being unsure if they were doing the right thing or not, I mean.

"What lesson? All we're doing is hugging." I actually felt Laura relax slightly into me for the first time.

Melissa slipped back inside, closed the front door and leaned against it, watching us silently.

I could talk directly into Laura's ear. I could have just whispered, but I didn't want Melissa to think I was keeping secrets. I did talk quietly though.

"This isn't sex." I felt her tense up when I said the "s" word, so I said it again.

"This isn't sex. This is a hug."

I held her tight and stroked her hair and stroked down the center of her spine. "Shhh!" I whispered. "Shhh!"

Slowly I felt her relax a little. I waited until she had relaxed a bit more. Let's say that on a scale of one to five, where one is as stiff as a board and five is floppy, she was at two and now she made it to three. She had a relaxed rating of three.

I kept talking in my best soft-and-soothing voice.

"This isn't sex. This is affection."

"The difference between these two things is like the difference between eating dark Swiss chocolate and scoring the winning goal in a grand final. They both feel great but they feel totally different from each other — and they mean different things."

I don't know if that makes me sound like I know all about sex or something. I'm not exactly an expert. I guess I was making it up a bit. But it sounded right so I said it.

As I talked I felt her move gradually to a relaxed rating of four. Maybe I should call it an RR. Her RR equalled four. I figured that was probably as good as I was going to get for now.

I carefully let go and stepped back. She stood looking at me with a slightly confused expression on her face.

I wondered how much I should spell out for her and how much she could figure out on her own. I had no previous experience to base my decision on. How on earth do The Parents do this all the time? This was a lot harder than I expected.

"I think I get what Tara meant when she said that stuff about you," said Laura.

"What stuff? What did Tara say about me?"

"She said you were an uncomfortable person to live with. I thought she meant you were a pain in the butt, but she said that wasn't it. She tried to explain what she meant but I had no clue what she was saying. Now I think I get what she meant. You've been making me feel uncomfortable all evening. You've been making all of us feel uncomfortable all evening. I don't mean in a freaky way..."

Her voice tailed off into nothing as she came across the same problem that Tara obviously had.

That was okay. I took that as a compliment. But I still didn't know if she'd understood my lesson.

"So do you get it? Do you get why we were hugging?"

Her nose crinkled. On anyone else, I would have said it looked cute. On Laura it just made her look more confused.

"Not really."

I hid my sigh from her. "Come on."

I held out my arms and hugged her again. She started off tense again but then relaxed a tiny bit. I decided I needed an arch of lights above her head and a little bell that would go "ding" every time a new light went up. Right now, there were about two lights on, "ding, ding." She had an RR of two.

I resumed my quiet voice in her ear.

"This is a hug. It doesn't cost anything. You can't get pregnant from a hug. You can't catch any diseases. You won't feel guilty afterwards. You won't feel ashamed. You won't feel dirty. You don't need to drink yourself stupid to do it. You won't get into trouble for hugging someone. You won't get grounded, or belted, or sent off to boarding school. You can hug someone and just walk away with no strings attached. You can hug your friends. You can hug your family — anyone in your family. You can even hug your worst enemy and it still doesn't cost anything."

Ding

"And if you let it, it feels awesome."

I stopped talking and stroked down her hair and down her spine. I used the other arm to squeeze her into me and rocked gently side to side.

Ding. Ding.

I looked across at Melissa and saw a tear rolling down her cheek. Wow! Two lessons for the price of one! I thought I knew what lesson Melissa was learning but I wasn't sure. Melissa was normally so good at hiding things but she was actually crying. I wondered how long it was since she'd cried in front of other people.

I rocked back and forth and held Laura to me. Her face was buried in my shoulder. I heard an impatient car horn beep at me from outside. I ignored it. I heard a rattle of footsteps as the two boys returned. They saw me and Laura standing and hugging each other and they stared at us both as if we were aliens that had landed in their entrance hall and were asking them to go ghhzzazzing with us. That's assuming they didn't know what ghhzzazzing meant. I was pretty sure they wouldn't, because I just made it up right then.

Laura pushed herself away from me, I let her go. She kept her face down as she turned and fled into the depths of the house. My shoulder was damp. Wow! I thought. It might have just worked.

I looked across at Melissa. "I have some homework for you to do."

"Let me guess. You want me to hug my sister before we go to bed tonight."

I smiled at her.

"I don't think you know what you're asking. We don't hug each other. We don't touch each other. We hardly talk to each other. Just about the only time we communicate is when we're shouting at each other. Your homework for me is going to be very hard to do."

"My dad always says that if homework is too easy then it's just a waste of time. This won't be a waste of time."

Melissa still looked unconvinced.

"You might need to practice. Come here."

Her confident expression vanished. I didn't think I was that scary.

"I don't think I want to."

I smiled at her. "I'm not going to hurt you. It's just a hug. Come here."

Tentatively, she walked across the small distance between us. It was as if she was being led to the electric chair to be executed.

I waited where I was until she actually made it all the way across to me. I think she was actually trembling as she stood in front of me. I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her. In my head I tried to be Dan or maybe even Dad (my ideal of Dad anyway). I tried to be this great, big protective guy hugging this small, lost, little girl. I wrapped myself around her and held on tight. She was so thin — thinner than me. I felt like I could crush her if I squeezed too hard.

The front door burst open and Mr DiMartino rushed in — ready to demand I explain why I was keeping him waiting. He saw Melissa, with her back to him, wrapped in my arms. Whatever he'd been about to say never made it past his lips. He chewed on his mouthful of words and swallowed them. I glared at him over Melissa's shoulder. This was his job and he'd left it for me to do. This was all his fault. If my magic powers had been working properly, he would have shrivelled up and turned to dust under the power of my glare. Sadly, my magic powers didn't seem to be working. He just stood there — watching — trying to figure out what was going on. If he asked what we were doing, I was going to scream.

I whispered in Melissa's ear, careful to make sure no one else could hear me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was so caught up in my own life that I didn't notice how bad yours is. I'll be your friend if you'll let me."

Melissa burst into great, shuddering sobs. That shoulder of my jacket was getting a good workout tonight.

She broke away from me and ran. Wow! I was shooting two for two. I eyed the two boys.

"I suppose you two want hugs from me as well."

They nodded and then glanced uncertainly at their father.

"Come on, then," I said to them and held out my arms. "Your father doesn't want to wait all night."

They rushed over to me and we had a nice three-way hug. I held it for a moment and then let them go. I knelt down on one knee so I was at eye level with them. Actually it made me shorter but that wasn't a bad thing.

"It was really nice to meet you both tonight. Thank you for being such gentlemen."

I solemnly shook hands with both of them.

Frederick had this kind of glazed expression on his face. It was like he just got off the most awesome rollercoaster and was standing there trying to recover from the fright and absorb the magic of it at the same time. I wondered why he would be looking so stunned ... oh!

I tried very hard not to blush.

I wondered if I should tell him that the fleshy softness of the girly breast that he'd just had his face pushed into was actually courtesy of Kleenex.

I didn't say anything. I guess a girl has to have some secrets.

I stood and stepped across to Mr DiMartino and shook his hand as well.

"And thank you for inviting me into your home. The dinner was delicious."

He held the door open for me and I walked out into the night. The air felt really cold so I pulled the jacket more tightly closed and scampered for the car.

Mr DiMartino opened the door for me and I slid inside. I can't say what type of car it was, but the seats were leather and the dash was leather and it smelt all expensive. And the engine purred like there was a tiger under the hood, having its back scratched with a garden rake.

I relaxed back into the comfortable seat with a sigh. I decided I might have exaggerated with Laura. Hugging sometimes has a cost. Hugging those two girls had cost me a lot of energy. I was exhausted.

We drove in silence for a while. I looked at Mr DiMartino out of the corner of my eye. He looked restless and kept glancing at me. I figured he had something he wanted to say to me but wasn't sure about whether he should say it — or maybe how to say it — or something.

I thought about waiting him out, but in the end I couldn't stand the suspense.

"If you have something to say to me, you should probably just say it."

He cleared his throat, but then he didn't say anything.

"Did you want to ask what was going on between me and Laura and Melissa just then?"

"I could see that you were hugging Melissa. I did wonder why. We are not a hugging family."

"I thought she needed it. She seemed to be feeling a bit fragile."

"She was perfectly fine at dinner. I don't know what you are talking about."

"Yes!"

I meant "Yes, I realize you don't know what I'm talking about," but I'm pretty sure he thought I meant "Yes, she was perfectly fine at dinner."

"I think Melissa was feeling ... unloved."

Mr DiMartino shook his head. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked so that he could turn and face me.

"I have to say, young lady, I do not appreciate being judged by a twelve year old."

"I'm thirteen and I'm not judging you, I'm just saying..."

"You have been judging me all evening. For some reason, I have no idea why, you seem to have decided that I am a suitable target for your subtle little insults. I get more than enough of that sort of thing from my work. I see no need to accept more of the same from a twelve year old."

"I'm thirteen."

"Thirteen then, it makes no difference. I dislike being spoken to like that by a child. I especially dislike being told I don't love my family enough."

"I'm sorry. I never thought for a moment that you didn't love your family. I was trying to say that I think Melissa was feeling like no one loves her."

Mr DiMartino didn't say anything. He watched me through narrow eyes.

I took a breath and tried again.

"Let me put it this way. You're a busy man. You run a business. You have to go away on trips all the time. But you're on the School Board. I've seen you at all the presentation nights and school concerts. I'm sure you go to all the parent conferences too. You cancelled your business trip and flew home as soon as you heard that Laura had a problem. You said before that actions speak louder than words. Well those are the actions of someone who cares for his family."

He nodded. Maybe it was a tiny little nod, but it was a nod. I was on the right track.

"I think that maybe both Melissa and Laura haven't understood that."

"What do you mean? Isn't it obvious? Why else would I do all of that?"

"I want to repeat something that a really intelligent person said earlier tonight. Sometimes you have to actually say things like that. You can't always assume people will understand what you mean just by seeing what you do."

"Melissa was talking about thanking you for helping Laura."

"Yes, but the same thing applies to showing someone that you love them. I read this book about parenting. It says that when teenagers are being the most rebellious and the most difficult, that's when they most need to know that you love them."

"Laura doesn't need molly-coddling. She needs discipline. She needs to know that some things are completely unacceptable and will not be tolerated."

"Yes, she needs discipline. The book says teenagers need boundaries and real consequences if they cross them. Laura didn't just cross the line on Friday. She went so far past the line that she ended up in another country. But the book also said that any consequences have to be followed up by saying, 'but we still love you.' And it said that you have to actually say it. And you have to demonstrate that you mean it by hugging or kissing or even touching in an affectionate way — whatever.

"I think you were right when you said actions speak louder than words — but they have to be the right actions. And you have to say the words as well. You said that you are not a hugging family. My father doesn't hug me much either but I know that he loves me because he says it and he holds my hand and he strokes my hair or my face — little things like that. Little actions like that. I wish he'd hug me more but..."

I shrugged.

"He holds your hand?"

"Yes."

"And how does that tell you that he loves you?"

"It's affectionate. I don't know. It's easier to tell he's being sincere if he's holding my hand when he's talking to me. Also there's something about the actual physical touching that's reassuring. I guess it means that I can feel him as well as hear him talking and see him in front of me. It's like more of my senses are telling me that he is there with me so I believe it more. I don't think I'm explaining that very well. Maybe I should just give you the book to read."

"Pardon me for saying this, but your book sounds like a pile of typical liberal-minded, idiotic drivel. The problem with the people who write those sorts of books is that most of them have never actually been a parent. They have never had to deal with a teenager screaming at you when you are trying to close an important business deal. It seems to me as if for quite a while now, all I've been doing with Laura is fighting with her. Every time we talk seems to degenerate into an argument. What does your fancy book say about that?"

I looked at him, trying to think about what he was saying. I tried to think about how what he was saying connected with what the book talked about.

"Mr DiMartino, does it seem as if she deliberately needles you and provokes you and starts those arguments on purpose?"

He seemed to think for a moment then he kind of half-nodded.

"Is it possible that she's deliberately picking fights with you because it's the only way she can get you to pay attention to her?"

He opened his mouth as if he was about to reject what I said but then his mouth snapped shut with a snap. He sat there staring over my shoulder as he tried to decide if what I had said might be true or not.

"She might not know she's doing it. I don't think she does."

"Perhaps!" His answer was more like a breath than a word.

"If that's true, is it possible that what happened on Friday night was a gigantic version of the same thing?"

His eyes narrowed as he thought about that. "Is that what you think it was?"

"It made you come home from your business trip, didn't it?" I shrugged. "I really don't know her well enough to be sure. I'm gradually figuring out that stuff like this is complicated — it's never just one thing."

"Are you actually suggesting that if I hold Laura's hand and tell her that I love her then she will stop picking fights with me and behaving like... ?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know for sure. It's worth a try isn't it?"

"Hmmph!"

"But it's not just you. It's your whole family. Do you realize that in all the time I was in your house, I only saw two times when anyone was being affectionate? One time was when Melissa helped Benjamin sit on the cushion and she patted his hand and the other time was when the cook was encouraging Frederick to try the mushroom sauce and she squeezed his shoulder. That was it. That was the only time any of you even touched each other. I don't know if that's normal for your family or not, but if it is normal then that seems pretty warped to me."

I drew a breath and tried to change direction.

"When you get to my house, you'll probably walk me in. My dad will invite you to stay for coffee. He's a bit like you with the way he respects guests in the house. I don't mind whether you stay or not. But while you are there, count how many times we show affection for each other. My mom is kind of on a cleaning binge so I don't know what she'll do, she gets ... um ... pretty wrapped up in what she's doing sometimes. But anyway, just count. Compare your answer to the two I counted in the whole time I was in your house. I'll even make sure I don't start anything so that you don't think I'm cheating."

He looked puzzled.

"I'm saying to do this because I think it's important. According to the list of signs they give in the parenting book, I think that both Laura and Melissa are starving for affection — any affection. I think Laura went looking for a substitute on Friday night. I think Melissa has everything bottled up inside her. She can't do that forever. It doesn't work."

I was frantically trying to remember what it said after that, because I knew it was important — really, really important.

"And it said if teenagers get starved of affection, then they can get depression, or start doing self-des ... self-destructive behaviour or they can just withdraw inside themselves. And if that goes on for too long then ... well..."

I really didn't want to say the next bit. So I tried to change directions.

"In my house, I can almost guarantee that Tara will be there with my parents. Don't misunderstand what you're seeing. She is in huge trouble for Friday night. She's being punished. She's grounded forever and all of her nice clothes have been locked away and lots of stuff like that. But my parents have been going out of their way to do what I was just talking about — making sure she feels loved. The funny thing is — I don't think they've ever read any parenting books, they just always do that."

"What were you about to say? You started to say something about if that goes on for too long, but then you stopped. What were you going to say?"

I stared at him and blinked. He was watching me and waiting — he wasn't going to let me off the hook. Damn!

"The next chapter in the book," my voice came out as a whisper. "It's all about suicide."

He laughed — that sort of sudden barking laugh, like it was surprised out of him. It was not like a funny-ha-ha laugh but it was more like an "I can't believe you said that" sort of laugh.

"Now who is being melodramatic? What would you know about suicide?"

I stared at him. I suppose I found it hard to believe that he would ask a question like that.

Then I did something I've never done before. Not in front of anyone. Not in front of my family. Not in front of my friends. Not on purpose anyway.

I deliberately and carefully folded back the different bits of me that I always show to other people. I peeled back Little Miss Rebecca. I peeled back Bec. I peeled back Rebecca Louise. I peeled back all those different masks I wear to protect me from the world like I was peeling an onion. It wasn't easy but I did it. I let him see right into the middle of my brain where sad little Broken Bec huddles naked and alone and frightened.

I don't know if he could see her. It amazes me that some people can't see things like that. If someone did what I'd just done in front of me it would be like they were standing in a spotlight and their skin and clothes had gone transparent. I'd be able to see every little detail of their soul.

"I just know," whispered Broken Bec.

If he could've seen her and heard her, then he would know that Broken Bec thinks about things like that a lot.

I mostly don't listen to her.

It was hard to put it all back. That sounds weird because I would have expected it to be easier to go back to being the normal me, but it wasn't.

I think maybe he sensed something of what I had just tried to show him because he didn't say anything more. I was aware of him driving me the rest of the way home and opening the car door for me so that I could get out.

We walked up the drive and I used my key to open the door. I held it open for him and we walked into the living room.

Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch with Tara between them. Mom and Dad were dressed but Tara was in her bathrobe. They had all our silverware spread out on a layer of newspaper that was covering the coffee table and they were polishing it piece by piece. As we walked in they were laughing with each other about something. Dad was holding Tara's hand up away from the bottle of polish and Mom was just in the act of drawing a line of polish down Tara's cheek with her finger.

Dad saw us come in and leapt to his feet. He hastily wiped his hands clean on an old rag and then shook Mr DiMartino's hand. I think they'd met before when they were transporting Tara and Laura to different places. Tara leaned her head down on Mom's shoulder for just a moment while the men shook hands but then she straightened up when Dad introduced Mom to Mr DiMartino.

Dad and Mr DiMartino made the usual small talk about nothing, while Mom went back to polishing the silverware. Dad put his hand on my shoulder and asked me if I'd had a good time and I nodded. He patted my shoulder and thanked Mr DiMartino for bringing me home. Dad invited him to sit and have some coffee but Mr DiMartino politely declined.

Tara was looking at me. She whispered something in Mom's ear and Mom kissed her cheek, being careful to avoid the smear of polish. Tara stood up and came over to where I was standing. She smoothly wrapped me up in a hug and then slid around to stand beside me. She kept one arm wrapped around my waist and tilted her head towards me. I put my arm around her and tilted my head as well so that we were resting against each other while we listened to the adults talk.

We heard a thumping of feet down the hall and Angie raced into the room in her pyjamas. Dad scowled at her and told her she should be in bed. Angie ignored him and launched herself into my arms. She hugged me and I hugged her back. I shifted her so that she was sitting on my hip. Tara reached over and stroked down Angie's hair because half of it was sticking straight up in the air.

Angie leaned over from her position on my hip and kissed Tara noisily on the nose.

Mr DiMartino was walking back to the door, escorted by Dad. I went with them. Angie was blowing little raspberries in my ear and giggling. Mr DiMartino stopped to look at the drawing of Faith and Danielle. He looked at me.

"Did you draw this?"

I nodded.

He looked back at the picture. "Are these sisters? ... I wish my daughters would be like that with each other."

I didn't say anything. Mom had taught me a long time ago that sometimes people will see what they want to see in a picture and it's best just to let them.

At the door, Mr DiMartino turned to me and held out his hand to be shaken. We shook hands.

My voice wasn't working which was a shame because I wanted to say something to him. I wanted to tell him that I had counted fourteen.

He didn't say anything and neither did I. But I think I saw in his eyes that he had been noticing. Maybe not counting, but definitely noticing.

I looked at him with steady eyes. He didn't hold my gaze. He turned and walked back down the drive to his car. He seemed to be shaking his head.

Dad closed the door to keep all the warm air inside and we headed back to the living room. I kissed Angie goodnight and Tara took her from me and took her back to bed.

I sat down in the armchair and breathed a sigh of relief.

Dad squatted in front of me and took my hand. He looked into my eyes and asked me if I was okay. I nodded.

Tara came back into the room, just as I found my voice.

"Just call me Little Miss Hand Grenade."

"What do you mean?" asked Tara. "What did you do?"

"Kaboom!" I made my arms go wide to imitate an explosion. Well, one arm — Dad was holding onto the other one.

"Mr DiMartino invited Little Miss Hand Grenade into the middle of his family and then he pulled out the pin. Kaboom!"

"Oh! My! God! If you've made it worse for Laura, she'll kill you — I'll kill you."

"I attacked Laura with my strongest weapon. I was nice to her. I don't think she was ready for that."

Tara's mouth was open in a big "O" as she tried to picture me being nice to Laura.

"I hope I didn't make things worse, but I'm fairly sure I made things different. I might have got a bit carried away though. I might have said a couple of things I shouldn't have said. I don't know."

I clung onto my daddy's hand and curled up in the armchair and started crying. It was just a delayed reaction cry from all the stuff that had happened. Tara sat on the arm of the chair and folded me up into a hug.

Broken Bec was still peeking out through the cracks. She thought maybe I should go into the bathroom and find some pills to make the pain go away. I didn't listen to her.

From where I was sitting, I could see my picture of Danielle and Faith hanging on the wall. I looked at Danielle and she glared at me, reminding me of promises I had made. Danielle helped me wrap myself up again.

Slowly, a piece at a time, I put myself back together again.

Broken Bec went silent.

-------

Oh!

I've just realized that it's taken me all of this writing — everything I've written from when I started with Daddy taking my door away until now — it's taken me all of this time just to admit that Broken Bec even exists.

It's true.

Broken Bec sits inside my head and watches. And when sad things happen, or bad things happen, then she thinks about ways of making the pain go away.

I mostly ignore her. I mostly pretend she doesn't exist. But she's there.

I might have even lied in something I wrote. After the basketball game, when I first found out about Danielle and how she'd tried to kill herself, I said I had an accidental thought. I even said that to Dan.

I guess that was a lie. It wasn't an accident at all. I listened to Broken Bec. It was real.

I think if Danielle hadn't yelled at me — and made me promise — and if Dan hadn't made me promise — then I might have ... hurt myself. Broken Bec made so much sense right then.

And when I wrote about later that night — when I wrote about how I was wandering around the house because I couldn't sleep — I left out the bit where I stopped in the kitchen and stared at the knives.

But I'd promised Dan and I'd promised Danielle, so I didn't.

And then I went to Dan's room, and I found Cindi on the computer. And she was so ... alive. She made me feel alive again. She helped me get back the strength to ignore Broken Bec. Then I crawled into Dan's bed and Cindi trapped me there with her eyes. And I huddled into the living heat of Dan. Holding onto him made me feel alive again. And holding him helped me get back the strength to ignore Broken Bec.

Danielle and Dan and Cindi saved my life that night.

I don't think that was the only time.

I hardly know Danielle at all. I've met her just those two times. But it's like I have this incredibly strong rope tying me to her. That rope makes it almost impossible for me to run away.

I've never even met Cindi. I've only ever seen that one picture of her. But there's another rope tying me to her. Maybe it's like a power cable, pumping electricity into me — pumping life into me. I can't explain just how important Cindi is to me.

And then of course, there's Dan. He is like my rock that I can tie as many ropes to as I want.

With all those ropes tying me in place, Broken Bec has no chance of persuading me to leave. She's still there but she won't ever get what she wants.

And I mustn't forget Dad. It's like he knows she's there.

I wonder how he knows.

I need to stop writing for a little while.

My brain has stopped producing words.



-------

Chapter 42: Tuesday



I smiled up at Liz as she made her way up the aisle of the school bus.

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

She dropped into the seat beside me with a thud.

"Listen, I have to tell you about dinner with the DiMartinos."

"Why? What happened?"

"Oh, not much. Just call me Little Miss Hand Grenade. I came, I saw, I went kaboom!!"

"You didn't!"

"Un huh. Which reminds me. We're making friends with Melissa."

"We are?"

"We are."

"Is that a good idea? If we even talk to Melissa, her sister gets all..." She held her hands up like claws and pulled a face like an angry cat.

"Melissa needs a couple of friends right now and we just volunteered. I'm fairly sure that Laura won't interfere."

"Oh? Are you telling me Little Miss Hand Grenade blew Laura DiMartino out of the picture? What did you do?"

"My weird brain came up with the perfect plan. I was nice to her."

"I bet that totally confused her."

"So we get to be friends with Melissa without getting clawed. Of course, I could be wrong — in which case we both gain some shiny new scars."

Liz laughed and leaned over and kissed the top of my head.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm just kissing that weird brain of yours. So we have a new friend — that's exciting. Does Melissa know she's just been befriended?"

"Sort of. I told her, but she might not have heard me properly. She was busy crying into my shoulder at the time."

"Wow! Melissa DiMartino was crying? You weren't kidding when you talked about being Little Miss Hand Grenade. Maybe you should tell me the whole story."

"Well. Mr DiMartino invited me and Dan for dinner because..."

-------

We lurked beside Melissa's locker until she showed up — determined to get off to a good start.

Melissa came striding down the hallway, but she slowed down as soon as she saw us. She looked her usual self — all clean and neat and unruffled. I looked closely and couldn't decide what was going on inside of her — she really is good at hiding her true emotions.

Melissa walked towards us and smiled at me. It was that confident, happy smile that up until last night I had believed was completely genuine.

"Hi friend," I smiled warmly at Melissa. "You know Liz don't you? If I'm going to be your friend then you get Liz as well at no extra cost."

"That's right!" chimed in Liz. "We're a package deal — two for the price of one."

Liz gripped Melissa's elbows firmly with both hands and planted a soft kiss on each of her cheeks. I saw Melissa's cheeks pink slightly — her defenses weren't strong enough to hold out against a combined attack from the two of us.

"Now that there's three of us, we should all get little mouse ears to wear around — then we could be the three mouse-ket-ears," announced Liz proudly.

"I'm fairly sure that's already been done," said Melissa thoughtfully.

"Maybe we should all wear musk perfume behind our ears because then we could be the three musk-at-ears," was my contribution.

Melissa groaned, but then she grinned.

"Surely our motto has to be: Puns for all, and all for puns."

"Or maybe: Puns for all, and awful puns!" replied Liz.

We all laughed at that and then mutually decided to change the subject — thank goodness. I think we'd just gone past the allowed pun quota for the day.

I looked Melissa straight in the eye. "So, how did your homework go last night?"

Melissa's eyes flicked away and then she looked back at me.

"You know, I suspect my mother thinks you're a genius. This morning at breakfast, she made Laura sit in the guest chair with us instead of eating in the kitchen. When Father objected, Mother simply said that Laura had been invited as a guest to our table and she would stay there until she left or she was welcomed back into the family. Father couldn't argue. They never fought about it in front of us, but from the start I was convinced Mother didn't agree that Laura should be banished like that — it seems as if I was right."

"Well that's good."

"Oh, and I think Frederick has a crush on you. He hasn't stopped talking about you since you left the house."

I felt my cheeks go a bit pink. It felt weird — to have an eight year old boy crushing on me like that. I wasn't going to let Melissa get away with what she was doing though.

"You're avoiding the question. How did your homework go last night?"

"Um ... I don't know what you said to Father last night when he was driving you back to your house, but I think you managed to rattle him."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, he came into my room later. I was doing my homework — I mean my schoolwork and he came and sat beside me. He seemed to be nervous about something. He was restless. He looked at what I was doing and asked a couple of questions and then he told me he was pleased to see me doing such good work."

"Is that all he said?"

"No, there was more. He took my hand and sort of sandwiched it between both of his and he looked me in the eye. Then he said he hoped I would have a good night's sleep and he would see me in the morning. I think he was about to say something else, but all he said was goodnight and then he left."

"Huh! He held your hand and said goodnight? I'd guess that doesn't usually happen."

"Yeah! It was very strange. It felt ... nice."

Melissa's eyes told me that she was understating the feelings she had by a fair bit.

"So what did you do then?"

"Anyway, after that, I finished my schoolwork."

I stared at Melissa, not letting her off the hook.

Liz laid a friendly arm around Melissa's shoulders. "I realize you haven't been friends with Bec for very long, so I'm going to give you a hint — no extra charge. Bec's asked you a question twice — well two and a half times, really — and you keep dodging it. My little hint for you is that Bec won't let you get away with that. If she wants to know something, she wants to know it and you can't distract her with soppy stories about holding hands with your dad."

"That's right. I'm like a dog with a bone — once I get my teeth into something, I just don't let go."

"You see? She's like a duck with a bun. Your feeble attempts to dodge the question just won't work."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"You said I was like a duck with a bun."

"Well that's what you said."

"No I didn't!"

"You said you were like a duck with a bun and once you get your teeth into something..."

"I said I was like a dog with a bone — a dog with a bone!"

"Oh! Well that makes more sense. I was kind of wondering, because ducks generally don't have teeth." Liz was grinning at me. "That weird accent of yours just had me confused, that's all."

I sighed and looked at Melissa. "Do you see what I have to put up with? My best friend teases me about my weird accent. But even her feeble attempts to distract me won't work because I still want to know what happened last night when you did your homework."

I kept staring at Melissa. She fidgeted. That wasn't a good sign — I started to worry that maybe things hadn't gone very well.

"I was fairly sure that you were right, that she needed — needs — affection more than anything else. So I went into Laura's room. She was lying face down on the bed so I couldn't exactly hug her."

I nodded at Melissa, encouraging her to keep going. We started walking towards our homeroom because it was nearly time for classes to start.

"I sat beside Laura on the bed and stroked her shoulder and her back. It was kind of weird for me. I've done that for the boys when they've been upset but I've never done that for Laura. Not ever."

"So what happened?" asked Liz gently.

"She bounced up off the bed to get away from me and started swearing at me. The things she said about me and about you and about our family ... I'm not going to repeat it all. She was being pretty vile. I started yelling back at her — I suppose it was like an automatic reflex. Then I remembered what I was supposed to be doing and why I was there. That made me realize that the things she was saying were just nonsense. They were just a barrier that she was throwing at me to keep me away from her. I stopped yelling. I just cut off what I was saying in mid-sentence. Then I slid forward over the bed and put my arms around her."

"So what happened then?" I asked.

"She hit me. She fought against me. She struggled like I was trying to kill her. She hurt me in a couple of places. I have this scratch on my neck."

We all paused to examine the red mark down the side of her neck.

"And I have a bruise on my ribs. It wasn't a lot of fun."

At that moment, the bell rang for the start of home room. We separated and went to our places. I sat in my chair and stared down at my hands neatly folded in my lap. I allowed the morning routine to sweep around me.

What had gone wrong? I had been so sure that after everything that happened at the dinner and after it, that Laura would be ready for Melissa. I had been so sure. But it had all gone wrong. I didn't understand. I didn't understand how I had misread the situation so badly. Had I made things worse between the sisters? That would be terrible. I was nothing but a meddler and all my meddling had been a disaster. Little Miss Hand Grenade had blown up and left Melissa with a scratched neck and bruised ribs. Who knew how badly Laura was hurt.

A bit of my brain registered that the roll call had reached my name. Numbly I raised one arm and held it up until the next name was called. Then I dropped my hand back into my lap and folded it in the other one. My eyes never left my lap. Everyone else was calling out in response to their names. Fortunately my teachers were used to me being quiet — they knew to look for my hand.

The questions went round and round inside my head. What had gone wrong? I didn't understand.

The bell rang for the end of homeroom like a distant ship's bell through a thick fog. I didn't realize it was meant for me until Liz took my hand and led me silently to our first class. I slumped into my seat and let the lesson flow past me.

A small folded piece of paper landed in my lap, just next to my hands. I stared at it numbly for a moment. The hands that had been sitting folded so neatly started moving. I watched the hands moving with a total absence of curiosity. The hands unfolded the paper to reveal a note written in purple pen in beautiful, neat, precise lettering. It took a moment for the shape of the words to reveal their meaning. They spoke to me with Melissa's whispered voice, tinged with purple ink.

"I didn't finish the story. Stop beating yourself up."

I blinked at the note. It didn't go away. Maybe it was real. I raised my head and looked across the room at Melissa. She was watching me, waiting for me to look at her. She nodded and a hint of a smile touched her face.

My brain, which had almost totally shut down, started to slowly come back to life. I glanced at Liz who was watching me carefully. I shrugged at her and she shrugged back. Our names were called out in that "stop doing whatever you're doing" sort of way and Liz turned back to the front. I looked back down into my lap and let my brain tick over the implications of the note.

I hope nothing important was covered in those classes before morning recess. I have no idea what was taught. I'm not even sure what subjects they were. I was present in the room, but I may as well have been on the moon for all the good it did me.

-------

"So, as I was saying, Laura fought me. She scratched me. She swore at me. She struggled. It wasn't pretty. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. This might sound corny, but I actually tried to think of what you would do if this happened. Then I remembered you hanging onto Laura and not letting her go, so I did the same. I hung on. I don't know how long it took, not that long really, but suddenly Laura stopped fighting and started crying as if someone had just flipped a switch. She clung onto me and just sobbed. Who would have thought it? I held her and she cried. I have to admit, I started crying too."

I could feel a single tear roll down my cheek. Maybe there was hope for Laura after all.

Melissa licked her lips nervously. "Don't think we're weird or anything but we ended up going to sleep holding onto each other."

"Why would we think that was weird?" asked Liz.

"We've never done that before. Girls aren't supposed to do that."

"Who says? Me and Bec have slept in the same bed lots of times. She makes a really good pillow."

"Sisters aren't supposed to do that."

"Sisters are totally supposed to do that. Bec and Tara slept together with me on Sunday night. I used to be insanely jealous of both of you because I never had a sister until Bec adopted me."

"But..."

I didn't have anything to say, so I just stepped forward and hugged Melissa, tucking my face over her shoulder. Liz joined me and together we wrapped her up and held her tight.

I found myself staring over Melissa's shoulder and straight into the sneering face of Hannah Fargo.

"Fucking lesbians," she almost snarled. "So now you've recruited DiMartino? Have you turned her into a fucking lesbian?"

I could feel Melissa tensing up in my arms so I squeezed and held her still. I looked calmly over her shoulder at Hannah and smiled my warmest smile. I was starting to think it was time to do something about Hannah. Hannah clearly had more to say but suddenly she flew sideways out of my vision.

I twisted a bit and saw that Laura had arrived and shoved Hannah hard up against the lockers. Laura was actually a few inches shorter than Hannah but somehow it was Laura staring down at Hannah with sparks flashing from her eyes.

"You didn't just disrespect my sister! Tell me you didn't." Laura was almost snarling into Hannah's face. "Because if you disrespect my sister then you and I have a serious problem."

"Get your fucking hands off of me, you bitch!" snarled Hannah.

The three of us broke our hug and inched back out of the battle-zone.

Laura smiled evilly and stepped back. She held her hands out wide, clearly demonstrating to everyone that she'd let go as requested.

Hannah straightened up and clenched her fists.

Tracey stepped up beside Laura. "Oh, go on. Start a fight, please."

Tara was suddenly there as well. "You should stop right now and think really carefully. I guarantee you do not want Laura as your enemy."

Hannah sneered.

Laura had her hands on her hips and was standing tall. She looked like royalty watching while her minions squabbled. A small crowd had gathered to watch the confrontation.

I could almost see Hannah's confident sneer waver and dissolve away.

"You will not disrespect my sister." Laura's command was clearly not open for discussion.

Hannah's eyes flicked to each side as she realized this was happening in front of quite a large audience. Her shoulders slumped and she gave the tiniest little nod.

Laura turned and walked away, smiling in triumph. The crowd started muttering and most of them started wandering away.

Tracey wasn't done. She walked up to Hannah and used one finger to poke her firmly in the chest.

"Hey, loser! Back off Bec Freeman too. She doesn't deserve your crap."

Tracey stepped back and was replaced by Tara. "That's right, loser. And Liz Davidson! Leave her alone too. A lot of people are sick and tired of the stupid crap you spout all the time."

Liz and I exchanged glances. This was an interesting development.

Miss Webster arrived. Her steely eyes roamed around the hallway and a number of students who were hanging around suddenly found a reason to be somewhere else. We stayed. Tara and Hannah stayed.

Miss Webster glanced between Tara and Hannah. "Is there a problem here?"

They looked at each other and then back to Miss Webster.

"No, Miss," they both said in unison.

She looked across at the three of us and then back at Hannah and then at Tara. Her eyes were alive with speculation. "There isn't going to be a problem here, is there?"

"No, Miss," they both said in unison — again.

She nodded. She was clearly not completely satisfied, but also clearly not willing to push any further. She turned and walked calmly away, stopping briefly to direct a couple of students to pick up some litter near the lockers.

Tara turned back to Hannah and looked thoughtful.

"You know, there's only one girl in this school who's scarier than Laura DiMartino. She's usually pretty quiet but annoying her is as stupid as poking a sleeping bear with a stick and that's exactly what you've been doing. Something tells me it's not going to take many more pokes and you're going to wake up that sleeping bear. If you do, then anything Laura could possibly do to you will seem like a picnic by the time this particular girl has finished with you. The sad thing is that you're probably too stupid to figure out who I'm talking about."

Hannah sneered at Tara. "You're so full of shit!"

Tara's face pulled up into a smile but there was no humor in her eyes.

"You think so? Well, I'll let you into a little secret. By the way, spreading this secret around is more than your life is worth."

Tara leaned in closer and whispered — it was only just loud enough for us to hear.

"She's the only girl in this school who has ever made Laura DiMartino cry. You just think about that."

Hannah looked doubtful.

Tara shook her head slowly. "You still don't know who I'm talking about, do you? Well, if you still think I'm full of shit, you just keep poking. I hope you wake up that sleeping bear and she bites your stupid head off."

Tara walked away down the hallway. She winked at us as she walked past us but didn't say anything. Down near the water fountain, Tracey and the other one were leaning against a column. Tara joined them and the three of them headed off around a corner.

Hannah seemed to shake herself free of the spell she'd been under and sulked off in the other direction.

Liz and Melissa and I looked at each other. I think we were all pretty amazed at what had just happened.

I grimaced at the others. "I have to admit I'm a bit uncomfortable about being described as the scariest girl in the school. I hope Hannah never calls that bluff."

Liz raised an eyebrow at me. "So who was bluffing? You can be pretty scary."

"Huh?"

"You were pretty scary at our house last night," said Melissa.

"We've been friends since the third grade," said Liz, "and I've always been glad I wasn't your enemy."

I stared at Liz in amazement. At first I'd thought she was joking but then I realized she was serious. I don't know why she was saying that. I try not to have enemies.

"You're always so shy — so quiet when other people are around. You have everyone convinced that you wouldn't say boo to a mouse. You put up with so much crap from people like Hannah and Laura and even your sister. But when you decide they've gone too far then you do something weird in your quiet little way and suddenly whoever it is just completely backs off. It's just a little bit freaky."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you remember in the fifth grade when everyone's stuff kept disappearing? It went on for weeks. I think you lost some lunch money or something. Then one day that girl's brooch went missing — I don't remember her name. She went completely hysterical. It turned out it was her mother's and her mother was dead."

I nodded. "Her name was Kathryn something. Her mother had died in an auto accident."

"An hour later a note in Ricky French's own handwriting appeared on the teacher's desk admitting that he was the one taking the things and that the brooch was hidden at the bottom of his book bag. Sure enough, there it was — and when the school asked his mother to search his room she found the rest of the missing stuff. Ricky always denied that he wrote that note but nobody had a clue who wrote it. I figured it out — eventually. Copying handwriting is a bit like drawing."

I shrugged. "It's just patterns. It's just spotting and copying patterns."

"You had decided that enough was enough and less than one hour later you'd figured out who the thief was and you'd gotten him caught without ever saying a word or anyone noticing you. I have no idea how you figured out it was him but..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"I never said anything before because I figured you didn't want to talk about it. But stuff like that — that's not the only time — I wouldn't want to be your enemy."

I shook my head at her. I think she was exaggerating things a bit. I'd known the thief was Ricky after he took my lunch money. I'd spotted him in the cafeteria buying food and I'd recognised the pattern of creases on one of the bills he'd paid with. I hadn't done anything about it at the time because, well, maybe he needed the food more than I did. Then when the brooch went missing I'd seen the reflection of him hiding something in his bag in the classroom window. I wasn't comfortable with the way first Tara and now Liz were making me out to be this devious, scary person — I was just me. Ricky shouldn't have taken Kathryn's brooch. I couldn't ignore that.

"If that's what you're really like," said Melissa, "I'm just surprised you put up with Laura and Hannah for as long as you did."

I'd had enough of this. I turned and walked away from them. They followed after me but at least they stopped talking about me like that. I went to my locker. I grabbed some books and hurried off to class. My little escort came with me, but they were silent which I thought was an improvement. I discovered when I got to class that I had science and I'd picked up my math books so I got a lecture from Mrs Gasbury about bringing the right equipment to class. I sighed to myself and listened politely to Mrs Gasbury's lecture. What else could I do?

-------

Adding Melissa to our lunch table meant we overflowed to the point of sliding an extra table over so that everyone would fit. Especially since Tara and Tracey and the other one turned up as well. I really must learn her name. The two boys had their eyes popping out of their heads. I think they were trying to work out what they'd done to be surrounded by so many girls. I was a bit puzzled myself. Up until last week, Liz and I had spent every lunch with just the two of us and now we were the middle of a crowd. It was a bit overwhelming.

I looked around the cafeteria and spotted something I would never have expected to see before today. Laura was sitting by herself and looking less than pleased about the experience.

I sighed to myself. It was immediately obvious what I was going to do. The problem was that part of me wanted to rejoice at seeing the Queen Bitch brought so low. I know that makes me sound petty and spiteful and I don't like to think of myself that way. But that's what I was thinking...

I sighed again and stood up. I told everyone I'd be back shortly and wound my way through the crowded room.

Laura didn't see me coming until I slid into a chair next to her. She stared at me with suspicious eyes. "What do you want?"

"I thought you might like to come and sit with me and Melissa and our friends and your friends."

She stared at me with cool eyes. "I wasn't aware that I still had any friends after last weekend."

"Didn't you notice them backing you up this morning when you fronted Hannah Fargo?"

"So?"

"So that's what friends do."

"I got the impression you spent the weekend working on Tara and Tracey, trying to get them to dump me. Well congratulations, you've succeeded. They've hardly talked to me for two days. Apparently they'd rather sit with a pack of seventh graders than sit with me right now. You turned my friends against me. Then you showed up at our house last night and ... did what you did. I still don't get what you get out of all of this. You should hate me and instead you're sitting here talking to me like we're best of friends."

"We aren't best of friends. Not even close. I don't like the way you've been treating my sister. I don't like the way you treat your other two friends. You've turned them into your personal slaves instead of being friends with them. That's twisted. I spent a total of ten minutes on Sunday trying to persuade Tara and Tracey to stop kissing your butt and start treating you like an equal."

She snorted. "And you somehow persuaded my sister to go all touchy-feely on me last night, as if that would solve all the problems of the world."

"Going touchy-feely, as you call it, won't solve many problems of the world. Hugging and holding each other and showing affection to each other is a normal part of living. It makes coping with the problems of the world just a little bit easier. It makes me sad that that isn't obvious to you. Melissa needs that as much as you do and you've been denying her that support."

I reached out and patted her arm and then pulled my hand back before she had time to object.

"I'm going to go back to my table now. You can sit here on your own if you want to. Or you can come and join us and sit with your friends. You can sit here and be lonely or you can sit with us and not be lonely. It seems like a no-brainer to me — lonely — not lonely. You decide."

I sat back down in my original place. Magically an extra empty chair had appeared at our table between Melissa and me. I peered at Laura out of the corner of my eye wondering if the chair was going to be filled but she was still sitting where I had left her. She was scowling down at the table.

Tracey and Mikael were having an animated discussion about football and whether it should be counted as a religion or a cult. The others were listening and occasionally throwing in comments but it was mostly those two. I suppose it was a pretty funny conversation.

I looked across the table at Tara and let my brain get busy. I'd always understood that Laura had given me a hard time because she didn't understand me. I was starting to realize that Laura had never really understood the relationship between Tara and me either. She had put so much energy into getting Tara to do nasty things to me because Laura assumed she had to break Tara and me up so that she could be friends with Tara — as if Tara could only like one person at a time. Or maybe Laura had realized that she could not turn Tara into a proper personal slave without getting rid of me because she had somehow figured out I would keep interfering with that. I couldn't really wrap my brain around the idea that someone would deliberately do either of those things.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Laura stood up and walked straight out of the cafeteria.

I guess that told me what her choice was ... for today, anyway.

-------

Just before the end of the lunch period, Miss Webster's voice came over the speakers telling me to report to the office. I looked around the table wondering what that was about. Everyone just shrugged at me. I stood up and Liz stood up with me. Together we started heading out of the room and towards the school office. Behind me I heard a lot of chairs scraping. I glanced over my shoulder and realized that Tara and Melissa were right behind me. Behind them was everyone else from our table. They were all following me. It was like a procession heading out of the cafeteria and up to the office.

Standing in front of the reception desk was Miss Webster and Mom. She smiled when she saw me and then raised her eyebrows when she saw the crowd following me. In fact, Miss Webster raised her eyebrows at the same time. It was like a row of eyebrows all lifting up an inch.

I looked back and forth between Miss Webster and Mom. "What's going on?"

Mom smiled at me. "Nothing you need an escort for. Though it's good your friends came with you. You can say goodbye to them."

"Why?"

"Do you remember that you asked me to make an appointment with my neurologist, Dr Koehler? Well she had a cancellation, so she can fit you in this afternoon. The only problem is that you will need to come now."

I looked at her and then around at my friends. "I better go back to my locker and grab my books."

I scampered off. As I was leaving, I heard Liz introducing Melissa to Mom.

"This is Melissa. With me being adopted as a sister, Bec and I needed a new best friend and Melissa drew the short straw..."

I grinned to myself as I walked quickly — I'd started to run but Miss Webster's glare had slowed me to a fast walk — I hoped Melissa wouldn't take too long to get used to the way we talked about each other. Sometimes we made it sound like being friends with each other was something horrible that had to be endured. It was all just code of course, but that wasn't always obvious to other people.

I returned with my book bag slung over one shoulder and found Mom in the middle of the group having joined in the discussion of whether football was a cult or a religion. I guess it probably helped since I think she had a better idea of the difference between the two things than we did.

Miss Webster was watching the discussion with a little smile on her face. She pulled me off to the side.

"I'm glad to see you including Melissa. She has been very isolated."

I nodded at her. "I should have noticed before but I didn't. I think things will be better for her now."

She smiled at me and gestured for me to join my mother. "I hope the neurologist can help you. See you back at school tomorrow."

I shrugged at her and went over to the noisy group. I hugged Liz and kissed her. I hugged Melissa and kissed her.

Melissa whispered to me. "Why are you going to a neurologist? Isn't that something to do with the brain?"

I hugged Melissa again so that I could whisper into her ear. "Yes it is. It's a long story. Liz will fill you in, but it's not something I want everyone to know about."

I let go and stepped back. She nodded at me.

I stepped forward and hugged her again, this time I squeezed tight and held on. I waited until I felt her tense up a bit when she realized I wasn't letting her go. Then I kept holding on and gently stroked one hand down her back. It took a moment for her to get used to the idea of being held like that and then she started relaxing into me.

"Thank you for being my friend," I whispered into her ear.

"Friendship with you should come with a health warning on the packaging," she whispered back.

I grinned and let her go. She was going to be fine.

-------

The hospital is a big, imposing, ugly, brick building that glowers at you as you approach it. "You really don't want to be here," scowls the sheer walls that loom above you as you walk through the entrance. "I hate sick people," grumbles the vast lobby as you scurry through it. The over-sized elevator just ignores your pathetic presence as it goes about its business — it cares so little about you that it doesn't even bother to play muzak for you to help the ride go quicker.

I was kind of glad that I wasn't actually sick. I was just here because of my weird brain.

The Weird Brain Department — the sign actually said Neurology — had its own little waiting room with chairs lining the wall and a pile of old magazines and a television hanging from the ceiling that was showing a series of infomercials. An elderly man sat in the corner, wheezing slightly every time he breathed. At least the wheezing told me he was still alive. Without the wheezing, I might have thought he was just a corpse propped up in the corner of the room.

Mom sat next to me with a clipboard and filled in the little pile of forms — name, birth date, insurance details and so on. I sat next to Mom and watched an advertisement for a food processor that would supposedly make cooking so simple that anyone could do it — even the brainless presenter they had hired to demonstrate it. Apparently if I dialed their number and ordered one in the next fifteen minutes they would give me a free set of steak knives. It seemed to me that if you needed steak knives to eat anything you made with the food processor then you were probably doing something wrong.

More wheezing told me that the old man in the corner was still alive.

Eventually my name was called and we were led down a little corridor into a small office with brightly colored posters on the wall. After the rest of the hospital had been so dreary, it was a bit of a shock to walk into such a cheerful little office. Dr Koehler is a nice lady with a warm, welcoming sort of smile and soft, happy eyes. She's a bit taller than average without being tall, and a bit stocky without actually being fat. I think for the first time since I arrived at the hospital I started to relax a bit.

Dr Koehler introduced me to Stan who was a distinguished looking older man with silvery hair. Stan is a psychologist at the hospital and just happens to be her father. They both seemed to be very familiar with Mom and chatted happily with her while I got my bearings. Dr Koehler explained that she and Stan would work together to do some testing until they worked out which one of them could help me more. There was a form for Mom to sign that said they could share medical information about me with each other to help reach a diagnosis and discuss possible treatment.

We all sat around the table and they both asked some questions about what sorts of things I was experiencing. When that was over, Stan told me he would see me later and left to look after another patient. Dr Koehler explained that it sounded likely that I had the same condition as my mother but first they were going to do some tests to make sure there was no other explanation for my experiences.

She took me through to a little doctors room and I got to wear one of those hospital gowns for a while so she could do a physical check up and then I got things attached to my head that plugged into a machine and she had me doing things like reading and lifting things and walking on a treadmill and so on. I got to lie on a bench that slid into this enormous machine that took photographs of my brain. All the little versions of me inside my brain lined up and smiled and waved for the camera, but I don't think the machine could see them.

Eventually she was done and I got to get dressed again and go down a floor to see Stan in his office. He had a waiting room too, except instead of chairs there were a couple of long, soft sofas that you could sink into. On the walls were some of those posters with funny pictures and encouraging phrases. My favorite is one with a little kitten hanging off a branch that says, "Hang in there!"

There was a boy about my age sitting on one of the sofas in a kind of stiff upright posture. His fingers were stretched out straight and his fingers were individually flicking forwards and backwards like he was playing some complicated thing on a piano. He saw me sitting there and smiled.

"Hello," he said in a slightly too-loud sort of voice. "My name is Joseph Edmond Philips. Are you here to see Dr K.? I've just finished and now I'm waiting for my parental unit to collect me. She went to buy a new dress."

He was talking to me but sort of looking down at my knees, which was a little bit off-putting. His fingers were still waggling. That was a bit weird too.

"I suppose so. I've just been upstairs with Dr Koehler the neurologist and now I'm here to see Dr Koehler the psychologist."

"I just call them both Dr K." he continued in that loud, stilted sort of voice. "It's easier that way. They're really just the same person with a different skin. I'm differently brained."

"You're what?"

"When a kid has missing arms or is paralysed, they say that he is differently abled. I have Asperger's syndrome. That means my brain developed differently. So I tell people I'm differently brained. It's easier than explaining what Asperger's is.

"Okay, then I guess I'm differently brained too, except that I think I have Lambrecht's syndrome."

"You have nice hair. Did you know that hair is made of protein? It's a type of protein called keratin. Fingernails are made out of keratin too..."

He launched into a long description of how hair and fingernails grow. All the time he was staring at my knees and flicking his fingers. He was still going when Stan poked his head out and asked us to come in. I had to interrupt Joseph's speech about hair and nails to say goodbye to him.

I sat down in yet another office and looked across the desk at Stan.

"Apparently I'm differently brained. Thanks for trying to help me, Dr K."

He laughed. "I saw that you had met up with Joseph. I don't mind if you call me Dr K."

He had more tests for me to do. Only these were more like intelligence tests and puzzles. That went on for a while, but the puzzles were fun so I didn't mind. Dr K. asked me more questions and I talked about how sometimes I was not being able to sleep very well and about having times when I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. I told him that the last week had been particularly weird for me. He nodded and said he understood.

Eventually we ended up with both Dr Ks and Mom and me sitting around a table. The younger Dr K explained that I didn't have any nasty lumps or suspicious shadows in my brain that shouldn't be there. She talked a bit about other things going on inside my brain but I don't remember it all. Maybe I should have asked her to write it all down so that I could take it away and look up the words I don't understand and so on. I'll do that next time I go to see her.

The older Dr K confirmed that Lambrechts was the most likely problem. He said there isn't a cure and that I just had to learn to live with my differences. He recommended that I come in and see him once a week for six weeks to talk about issues that related to coping with that and to teach me techniques to use if I started to get anxious about things. After six weeks he said, we should be able to reduce the number of visits to once a month and then later to even less than that.

The only other thing was that the older Dr K asked me to write down everything that had happened over the last week and then to keep a journal from then on. He said it would help me get a better understanding of what things were normal for everyone and what things were different for me. He also said it would help him get a better idea of how he could help me.

Mom made an appointment for me to come back next week and that was the end of that. It was quite late in the afternoon by the time we left the hospital and I must admit the whole day had been tiring.

-------

I was watching the cars around us in the traffic when I noticed that Mom was crying. I told her to pull over and we argued about that for a moment but then she pulled over.

As soon as we were stopped I undid my seatbelt and slid over a bit so that I could hug her. She leant her head down onto my shoulder and cried some more.

"Why are you crying?"

There was a bit of sniffing and snuffling, so I dug some tissues out of the glove box and helped her clean up a bit.

"I'm just being silly. I suppose I was hoping somehow that you didn't have the same thing as me. I was hoping it was just a temporary thing that you could take a few pills for and it would be gone. The last thing I wanted for any of my babies was for you to have to put up with the same things I've had to."

"Oh, Mom." I pulled her head down into my lap and stroked her hair. "Things aren't so bad. It could have been some nasty cancer thing in my head. Instead it's just Lambrechts. Sure it makes me different but I'll deal with it. I have you to help me. And you have me to help you. Don't feel sad. Sometimes Lambrechts is a good thing. I mean, look at our house. Right now it's the cleanest house in the state."

Mom sputtered a laugh in my lap. "I did get a bit carried away with getting it clean, didn't I?"

"It doesn't matter ... and I love my bedroom. I bet no other kid has a bedroom like it."

"It's just so hard. It's so hard to be a good mother when there's times when I barely notice my own children."

I sat in the car and stroked my mom's hair as she lay across my lap and cried. I looked out the window and watched the cars whiz past us. Every so often, a truck would zip past us and the car would rock with the wind of it. I thought of the DiMartino parents sitting around the table, almost oblivious of what their children were going through. I thought of Liz and her dad. They were happy enough but Liz missed out on so much by never getting to know her own mother. I thought of Danielle whose home life had been so terrible that she had tried to kill herself.

I smiled down at Mom, lying on my lap. I bent down and kissed her cheek.

"I wouldn't want it any other way. You have four beautiful children — five counting Liz — and we all love you. Beyond that, nothing else matters."

Flashing lights behind me made me look over my shoulder. A police car was pulling in behind us. I shrugged and went back to caressing Mom. I guess it must have looked a bit strange, anyone driving past would just see me sitting alone in a car pulled into the side of a busy road. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the officer got out of his car and walked up beside us. He peered in the window and tapped on the glass.

I leaned over and wound the window down. It was awkward but I managed it.

"Is everything all right, Miss?"

"Everything's fine, officer. My mom's just a bit upset. She'll be fine in a moment. We're both going to be okay."

I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror. I had Mom's face on. I don't mean her stone face. I mean the face she has in that painting of us in the living room. The face she has as she looks down at the three of us — half protecting, half loving and totally fierce. This was my mother and I was here to protect her — just like she protected me when I needed it. And I meant it when I said we were both going to be okay — not just for now but for always. We were both going to be totally okay and I was going to make sure of it. Fierce, protective, determined, loving — it was all there in my face.

Mom sat up and started wiping her face clean. She apologized to the officer for causing a problem and he said for her not to worry about it. Once he was satisfied that Mom was okay, he told us to take care and went back to his car. He sat behind us until Mom was ready and we drove off, leaving the flashing lights of the police car behind us.

-------

It was late that night. I'd gone to bed but I wasn't ready to sleep. I lay there and stared at my ceiling. It hung above me, blank and empty in the dim light. It was like an empty canvas, ready to be painted on. But I wasn't ready to paint my ceiling yet. Some things just can't be rushed.

What about me? I had so much that I still had to do in my life. But a lot of it I just wasn't ready to do yet. I was thirteen. I'd imagined that becoming a teenager would be some major step where I suddenly would start to do all this new stuff — relationships, sex, all of it. But I wasn't ready yet. I felt like I'd changed so much in just a week — it was hard to get a clear picture of just how much I'd changed. But there were some things I still felt exactly the same way about as I had done the week before. There was a whole bunch of stuff I just wasn't ready for yet and becoming a teenager hadn't magically changed that.

My brain showed me a picture of Dr K sitting behind his desk asking me to write out everything that had happened over the last week. That wasn't going to be easy. Some of it I was pretty sure didn't actually happen, or maybe it did happen but what I saw wasn't the same as what other people would have seen. Also there was the question of where to start. I didn't think I could tell the story of last week without starting some time before then.

I sighed and rolled out of bed. I put my gown on over my pyjamas and tied it tight. I turned on my desk light and found an unused exercise book. I stared at it for a moment and then carefully wrote my name at the top.

"Okay, Dr K, here goes," I whispered.

Bec

When is a door, not a door... ?

My parents have this thing about giving us "lessons." Oh sure, if we do something wrong they do the usual things like grounding us or making us do meaningless chores, stuff like that. Sometimes, though, they go all out and give us things that are kind of ... extreme.

I'll give you an example... 


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The End
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Posted:  2007-01-16
Last Modified: 2011-01-11 / 05:10:40 pm
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