couldn’t go inside.
Dad’s car wasn’t there, and I didn’t feel like being in an empty house.
So I went over to Dawn’s.
When Carol answered the door, I smiled and said hi. I thought I was being my cheerful old self.
But the minute she saw me, her face fell. “What happened to you?” was the first thing she said.
No Oscars in my future, huh?
We sat in the living room, and I told her a little bit about the visit. I didn’t want to make a big deal. I really didn’t want to talk about it at all.
But as I was talking, Dawn came in and started asking questions.
Next thing I knew, Mr. Schafer was there, and then Jeff, standing in the archway.
I clammed up.
I did not need the snotty comments of my best friend’s snotty little brother.
For awhile [sic], no one said anything. Then Jeff spoke up, in a soft voice. “My friend’s hamster died. His little brother ran over it with a toy fire truck.”
Mr. Schafer ushered Jeff out of the room. Carol started apologizing for him.
I wasn’t angry, though. I could tell Jeff was trying to be helpful, in his own weird way.
I tried to say that, but Carol cut me off. She grabbed my hand. “You poor, poor thing,” she said.
Dawn nodded. “It’s been hard for you.”
I kept telling them I was fine. And I was. But they were shaking their heads sadly and telling me I could cry if I needed to.
“It’s all right to feel what you’re feeling, you know,” Dawn informed me.
“No kidding,” I muttered. “I mean, how can you not feel what you’re feeling?”
Dawn scowled. “I was only trying to help.”
I hated the way they were looking at me. As if I were some pathetic stray dog at the pound.
“Sorry,” I said, getting up to leave. “I have to go home.”
Thursday 3/19
homeroom [sic]
The baby is kicking.
Carol let me feel it (him? her?) this morning. I stopped by the Schafers’ on the way to school, and Carol made me put my face right up to her tummy. At first I couldn’t feel a thing.
Then she told me to sing.
So I sang the first song that popped into my head. My absolute favorite Maggie Blume tune —
“Hey, Down There.”
Appropriate, I thought.
Bam. A sharp toe, right to the kisser.
I screamed. It was the weirdest feeling.
Carol was laughing. She said the baby’s going to be a soccer player.
Dawn made me swear I’ll never tell Maggie what happened. That song is her pride and joy.
Carol stood in the doorway, waving to us as we walked off. Her other hand rested on her belly.
She looked so cool.
I don’t know what it is about pregnant women. They just have this glow.
I told that to Dawn. She gave me a funny look. She said Carol always glows. Carol has oily skin.
Ouch. So catty.
“You still don’t like her, huh?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Dawn said. “Of course I do. She’s my stepmother.”
“Well, you didn’t at first. And sometimes you still seem — I don’t know. A little angry at her.”
“You have a big imagination, Sunny.”
Fine.
Maybe she’s right.
I have to see this from her point of view.
Must be kind of strange, to see your stepmom carrying your dad’s child. Especially when your mom is still alive.
Am I going to feel that way too, if Dad remarries?
Guess I have to start thinking about stuff like that.
4:10 P.M.
WHY WHY WHY do I hate being here so much?
WHY do I feel sick?
WHY do I feel like I’m going to faint?
I’ve been here a million times. I should be used to it by now.
I AM VISITING MOM.
I AM HER DAUGHTER.
I should be loving and supportive and interested and sympathetic.
AND ALL I CAN THINK OF IS GETTING OUT OF HERE.
I know why.
It’s Dawn.
I should never have come with her.
Dawn the Devoted. Dawn the Perfect and Perky.
How. Can. She. Be. So. UP?
“Hi, Mrs. Winslow. You’re looking so pretty, Mrs. Winslow. Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Winslow? Come on, Sunny, let’s prop up the bed/call the nurse/get your mom some
food/tell her about school today.”
And
Dad’s car wasn’t there, and I didn’t feel like being in an empty house.
So I went over to Dawn’s.
When Carol answered the door, I smiled and said hi. I thought I was being my cheerful old self.
But the minute she saw me, her face fell. “What happened to you?” was the first thing she said.
No Oscars in my future, huh?
We sat in the living room, and I told her a little bit about the visit. I didn’t want to make a big deal. I really didn’t want to talk about it at all.
But as I was talking, Dawn came in and started asking questions.
Next thing I knew, Mr. Schafer was there, and then Jeff, standing in the archway.
I clammed up.
I did not need the snotty comments of my best friend’s snotty little brother.
For awhile [sic], no one said anything. Then Jeff spoke up, in a soft voice. “My friend’s hamster died. His little brother ran over it with a toy fire truck.”
Mr. Schafer ushered Jeff out of the room. Carol started apologizing for him.
I wasn’t angry, though. I could tell Jeff was trying to be helpful, in his own weird way.
I tried to say that, but Carol cut me off. She grabbed my hand. “You poor, poor thing,” she said.
Dawn nodded. “It’s been hard for you.”
I kept telling them I was fine. And I was. But they were shaking their heads sadly and telling me I could cry if I needed to.
“It’s all right to feel what you’re feeling, you know,” Dawn informed me.
“No kidding,” I muttered. “I mean, how can you not feel what you’re feeling?”
Dawn scowled. “I was only trying to help.”
I hated the way they were looking at me. As if I were some pathetic stray dog at the pound.
“Sorry,” I said, getting up to leave. “I have to go home.”
Thursday 3/19
homeroom [sic]
The baby is kicking.
Carol let me feel it (him? her?) this morning. I stopped by the Schafers’ on the way to school, and Carol made me put my face right up to her tummy. At first I couldn’t feel a thing.
Then she told me to sing.
So I sang the first song that popped into my head. My absolute favorite Maggie Blume tune —
“Hey, Down There.”
Appropriate, I thought.
Bam. A sharp toe, right to the kisser.
I screamed. It was the weirdest feeling.
Carol was laughing. She said the baby’s going to be a soccer player.
Dawn made me swear I’ll never tell Maggie what happened. That song is her pride and joy.
Carol stood in the doorway, waving to us as we walked off. Her other hand rested on her belly.
She looked so cool.
I don’t know what it is about pregnant women. They just have this glow.
I told that to Dawn. She gave me a funny look. She said Carol always glows. Carol has oily skin.
Ouch. So catty.
“You still don’t like her, huh?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Dawn said. “Of course I do. She’s my stepmother.”
“Well, you didn’t at first. And sometimes you still seem — I don’t know. A little angry at her.”
“You have a big imagination, Sunny.”
Fine.
Maybe she’s right.
I have to see this from her point of view.
Must be kind of strange, to see your stepmom carrying your dad’s child. Especially when your mom is still alive.
Am I going to feel that way too, if Dad remarries?
Guess I have to start thinking about stuff like that.
4:10 P.M.
WHY WHY WHY do I hate being here so much?
WHY do I feel sick?
WHY do I feel like I’m going to faint?
I’ve been here a million times. I should be used to it by now.
I AM VISITING MOM.
I AM HER DAUGHTER.
I should be loving and supportive and interested and sympathetic.
AND ALL I CAN THINK OF IS GETTING OUT OF HERE.
I know why.
It’s Dawn.
I should never have come with her.
Dawn the Devoted. Dawn the Perfect and Perky.
How. Can. She. Be. So. UP?
“Hi, Mrs. Winslow. You’re looking so pretty, Mrs. Winslow. Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Winslow? Come on, Sunny, let’s prop up the bed/call the nurse/get your mom some
food/tell her about school today.”
And
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