"Danna, I'd rather not talk about her. It only brings back sad memories."
"Sure, except I didn't bring it up."
"Just don't you read too many of those foolish books and go around confusing them for real life. And don't think too much about boys. You’re still very young."
Now I was really confused. "What exactly did Lori do?"
My mother didn't answer. I could see it was hurting her to discuss her sister. Still, I couldn't help wondering. Mom had a sister who my parents never talked about. How totally weird was that?
I thought about asking my stepfather about her, but we hardly ever spoke, at least not in the way that people in a family are supposed to communicate. In our house, silence was the rule rather than the exception.
My real dad was killed in Vietnam serving in the army. My mother and he were already married and she was pregnant when he was sent overseas. I know she loved him very much. That’s another thing we don’t ever talk about.
My stepdad married Mom when I was two. He’d been a friend of my real father in the military. They’d served together in Vietnam. Mom says Mike, my stepdad, was charming and loving. But you'd never know that now. He's withdrawn and moody. And I know he has nightmares. The walls aren't thin, but sometimes I hear him screaming in the night. I don't know what happened to him overseas because he never talks about it, but I think it must have been terrible. I often wish he would say more to me than "Pass the ketchup," but that's the way he is.
I’m not supposed to know, but my stepdad had a drug problem. I think that’s what caused him to be involved in the auto accident that crippled him. Like I said, there’s a whole lot we don’t talk about at my house.
Lots of the time, I think my stepdad doesn't love me — in fact, doesn’t even like me. When I told Mom, she insisted I was wrong. She said he was troubled about things and the way he acts has nothing to do with me. I’m not sure I believe her. I think when you grow up without any brothers or sisters you become more aware of the feelings of grown-ups. Sometimes, I think I've never really been a kid at all, just a miniature adult.
Joyce thinks that about herself too. She's my best friend — really my only friend. She and I have been close since first grade, ever since the time a bully grabbed her glasses in the playground and tried to break them. I've always hated injustice. So I went up and kicked him as hard as I could in the shins. When he dropped Joyce's glasses, she snatched them up and we both ran. He kept chasing us, threatening to wipe us off the face of the earth. We finally managed to outrun him. Then we collapsed breathless and laughing with the satisfaction of our power to prevail. It was the start of a great friendship.
Most people don't like Joyce because she's such a brain. I think a lot of kids are jealous and some, particularly boys, are intimidated by her intellect. They don't like me either because I'm shy, quiet, reserved, and not very outgoing.
I guess I'm sensitive and my feelings hurt too easily. I don't confide in people because I don't trust them very much. Maybe I'm more like my stepdad than I’d like to admit, withdrawn and uncommunicative. Or maybe it's because I've grown up surrounded by secrets and I've always known that some of those secrets were connected with me.
Things began to change in my life when I entered my sophomore year of high school. That's when boys really started to matter and when I realized geometry was not going to be my best subject. Normally, people do not associate geometry with boys, but when I turned fifteen, many unlikely things became associated with boys in my mind.
Joyce offered to tutor me in math, except she really becomes impatient when people don't understand things as fast as she does. So I turned her down. Besides, she was already taking Algebra II and Trig, so why bother her? I asked my math teacher how to apply for a tutor and she gave me the name of the teacher in charge of the National Honor Society. Joyce went with me after school, although she was annoyed.
"I could help you, Dani. I don't know why you want an outsider. I mean, what's a little geometry between friends?" The sunlight caught her coppery hair and made it look like a freshly-minted penny as we walked down the corridor and past a row of windows.
"You know how irritated you get when you have to explain things more than once. Geometry just isn't my kind of subject. Besides, I respond better to the authority of strangers. I know we'll just get into an argument if you try to tutor me. It might ruin our friendship."
She shook her head. "I think you're wrong, but I bow before your superior wisdom."
I ignored her sarcasm. "You've got a pretty heavy program, don't you? All those honors classes, you must have tons of homework."
Joyce sighed. She took off her brown-frame glasses and rubbed the spots on either side of her nose that had reddened from the supports. "Disgustingly true."
We had arrived at the door to Mr. Galrick's classroom. I started to open it, but just as I did, the door swung out catching me off balance. I jerked backward to avoid being hit harder by the door, and all my books fell to the floor. Two boys came barreling through the door. The first was tall, broad-shouldered and drop-dead gorgeous. He
