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She checked her watch. “Okay, for a little ways.”

We headed for the crosswalk. “How's it going with your family?” I said.

“Don't ask.”

“Still not talking to your mom?”

“I want nothing to do with her.”

I pressed the button to change the light.

“What about your dad?”

“He's putting a roof over my head. That's it. And I'd ‘better be grateful I'm not in juvie.'”

“Sounds tense.”

“Yeah.” She used a high, strangled voice to underline the point. “He pretty much wishes me and my brother were never born.”

At the mention of Kevin, my stomach jumped. Should I tell her I'd hung out with him the day before? I dreaded her anger, but keeping secrets again felt worse. The light changed and the two-tone walk signal chimed. “I saw Kevin yesterday.”

“What? Where?”

I rolled my bike off the curb.“He was parked outside the school, so I went and talked to him.” Oncoming pedestrians forced us to walk single file. I imagined her glowering at my back. On the opposite sidewalk, we fell in line again, shoulder-to-shoulder. “I guess he's driving without a license.”

She stopped walking. “So? What's it to you?”

I didn't really have an answer to that. “I was just surprised he would take that kind of risk.”

“You're such a suck. Why don't you just mind your own business?”

I hung my head and didn't reply.

Her voice changed as she realized the truth. “You're still obsessed with him, aren't you? That's what this is about. I can't fuckin' believe it. Trust me, you're not going to get anywhere with him.”

The day before at Cattle Point, Kevin showed real emotion. The feelings between us weren't one-sided. I was sure of it. “How do you know?”

Sasha laughed. “Believe me, I know. I've been fielding phone calls from his exes for years. Some of them were really nice girls, Nat. And pretty too.” She swung her leg over her bike. “He made them all feel
special.
” She tilted her head. “I'm going this way.” She swooped into the road and did a donut. When she passed me again, she paused, her toe touching the curb. “You know what?”

I was adjusting my helmet. “What?”

“When you started this thing with Kevin, you obviously didn't care how I felt. So it's karma.”

“What do you mean?”

“Getting hurt by Kevin. That's your karma.”

She wheeled again and took off up the hill.

Sunday, September 12th

Dad called tonight to drop the bomb: he and Vi are getting married.

I didn't say congratulations. I said, “Does this mean you're staying in Ontario forever?”

From the upstairs phone, Paige asked, “Will you have babies?”

Dad hedged. I thought he was just too embarrassed to explain his vasectomy to Paige, so I said, “Dad had an operation so he can't have any more children.” I expected Dad to back me up, but he didn't. “Right, Dad?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, well, uh …” Usually, he's straight and to the point, very “business communications.” So I knew something was up.

“The operation might actually be reversible.”

“
What?
”

“I'm not saying we're going to have any children, but, well, Vi
has
asked me to consider reversing my operation.”

“And you're
going
to?” I was practically shouting.

“I'm going to
consider
it, yes.”

“Does that mean I'm going to have a little baby sister or brother?” Paige said from the bedroom. “Sweet! I've always wanted one.”

She thinks it's like getting a goldfish or something. But I have a younger sibling. I know what it means. I'll feel responsible for those kids, my half-brothers or sisters, the way I do for Paige. What if something happens to Dad and Vi? There I'll be, the old-enough-to-be-their-mother half-sister. They'll rely on me. And Dad's acting like this has nothing to do with me!

My hands were shaking as I hung up, and my body temperature plummeted. I boiled water for tea, my teeth chattering.

Mom actually sounded excited. “Getting married!” Or maybe it was only surprise. She has a perma-flush these days, so I couldn't tell whether she was glowing in reaction to the news or not. How long does infatuation usually last? It'll be nice to have my mother back once she recovers.

Paige skipped downstairs and sprang into the kitchen. “I can't wait to be a bridesmaid!”

I pulled the afghan off the couch and drew it around me like a shawl. “The bride usually asks her friends, or her sisters, not the groom's daughters.”

“You never know.” Mom frowned at me and turned to Paige. “It's very possible that you two will be in the wedding party. And even if you're not, you'll be guests of honor.”

I was still shivering, and my stomach felt hollow. Mom was making me feel like Natalie-the-Selfish-Grouch, who ruins everything for Paige. So I didn't say, “I don't want to go to the wedding.” Instead, I sipped my tea and burnt my tongue.

I really hope the doctors can't reverse the vasectomy, or that Vi can't get pregnant. I know: I'll research infertility hexes. A wedding must be the perfect place to cast one.

Monday, September 13th

It was impossible to concentrate at school today. Burning sensations erupted in my chest every time I thought of Dad and Vi. During a Math quiz, I fell back into an old habit. I flipped my quiz over and wrote:

Dear Dad,

How can you even THINK of starting another family? You have no right! You're totally absent from my life! If they made you take a parenting exam, you'd FAIL. It should be ILLEGAL for you to bring any more children into the world.

I didn't notice the teacher patrolling the rows. My rapid writing must have caught his attention because he leaned over my desk. I flipped the paper, but not before he read part of it. How embarrassing. I erased the note once he moved on but left most of the quiz blank.

Even though Math isn't my strong suit, it's not like me to fail a test. After everyone left, I approached the front of the room. The teacher was stuffing the quizzes into his briefcase. He's kind of gruff, and I didn't know what to expect.

“Mr. Lee …”

He paused to look at me. His round, silver-rimmed glasses were slipping down the low bridge of his nose. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if I could rewrite the quiz. I—I couldn't concentrate today.”

He smiled. “Don't worry about it. I won't hold one off-day against you.”

Tuesday, September 14th

Off-Day #2. Crushing sadness. If I had a choice, I would pick anger: at least it gives me energy. Today, I slumped at my desk, shoulders rounded and chest caved in. My eyes kept filling with tears as I pretended to take notes.

Dear Dad,

I've tried so hard not to miss you. I've tried so hard not to care. I'm tired of hoping and waiting. You don't love me. You never will.

From the board, the Bio teacher took in my glassy stare; he probably thought I'd smoked weed at lunch. But I was low, not high. After class, I dragged myself down the hall like there were ten-pound weights in my shoes.

Wednesday, September 15th

School's not the same without Sasha.

Quitting Dance-Is has left a big hole in my life.

Kevin has vanished.

Mom has changed.

And now Dad is leaving us behind—again.

After dinner, I went to my room and pulled out a pad of paper
.
I needed to get it all out once and for all.

Dear Dad,

Weddings are supposed to be joyful, and I wish I felt happy for you and Vi. But I don't.

There are things I've wanted to tell you for a long time, and I can't hold them back anymore. Here goes. I wish you didn't live so far away and that I got to see more of you. I wish I didn't always have to be the one to phone. It makes me feel like I don't matter to you. Even when I visit you, I feel much less important to you than your work. You haven't been around to see me grow up and it makes me very sad. I miss you.

Now that you're marrying Vi, I'm scared I'll see you even less. I'm scared you'll have other kids and give them the love and attention I should have received. You'll never leave Ontario and you'll forget about Paige and me.

I want the disappointment to end and the pain to stop.

I quit writing when a teardrop rolled off my cheek and landed
splat
on the page. It was so long since I'd written to Dad. I gave up trying to reach him years ago. As I re-read the letter, I cried harder, knowing I would never send it. It was hopeless trying to speak to him from the heart.

Mom knocked. “Nat? Are you all right?”

I blew my nose in response.

“Can I come in?”

“If you want.” I must have sounded pathetic.

I let her read the letter, and she hugged me. “I'm sorry for all of this hurt.” She rocked me in her arms. “But, Nat, one thing is for sure: your father loves you and Paige very much.” It felt as if she'd hugged me again when she said that. I tried to ignore the voice inside that grumbled:
cliché, bullshit
.

It would have been better if Mom stopped there, but she continued. “When he doesn't call you or spend time with you, I know it's hard, but you have to try not to take it personally. He's a workaholic and, unfortunately, he doesn't properly appreciate the value of human relationships.”

Anger flared up again and I pulled away. “But that's my point! How can he think of bringing more children into the world when he doesn't value the ones he already has?”

She shook her head and stared at the carpet, then lifted her chin. “All I can think is that making a commitment to Vi has changed him. That they're moving from a dating phase into more of a family phase.” She reached to tuck my hair behind my ear, something she hasn't done since I was a kid. “You and Paige might actually benefit from it, you know. They dropped everything to come and see you dance in Vancouver, didn't they?”

“Uh-huh.” I wasn't convinced, but I'd moped enough for one night.

“Why don't we make a batch of brownies?” Mom said.

“Did I hear someone say
brownies
?” Paige popped her head into my room. She has a sixth sense when it comes to chocolate. “I want to help!”

I closed the pad of paper and set it on my desk. “When you say, ‘help,' you mean, ‘lick the bowl,' right?” I tousled Paige's hair and she ducked out from under my hand.

By the time I brought a plate of brownies and a glass of milk back to my room, my letter-writing mood had passed. I tucked the pad away in my bottom drawer.

Thursday, September 16th

Every time I leave school, I scan the cars at the curb. If there's a brown one, my heart palpitates. I don't particularly
want
Kevin hunting me down after school. That's why I told him to call me. But I don't enjoy having a minor panic attack every time the phone rings either. I never know where he's staying or how to reach him. There's nothing to do but wait.

Friday, September 17th

The girls played grass hockey in PE today. We had to run up and down a muddy field with big wooden sticks, chasing a ball and blocking each other. I don't mind the idea of hitting balls—golf, tennis, ping pong, croquet—these are all civilized games. But why divide a class into enemy camps and make them charge at each other?

The teacher assigned us to teams and positions. Jamie played offensive forward on my side. Claire, a fullback, opposed us. My position—left wing—no doubt had to do with my size (small) and ability (poor). I faced off against Sara, a red-haired girl about my height and weight. When the ball finally came our way, I accidentally whacked her on the shins, really hard. There weren't enough shin pads to go around, and she wasn't wearing any. She yelped and my stomach turned. The teacher ran up, followed by Jamie and other attackers.

“I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?” I said.

Sara was hopping on one leg, her face drawn in pain.

The teacher said, “Don't apologize. It's part of the game.”

Jamie thumped her stick on the ground. “It's
our
team you have to worry about, not the other guys.”

The teacher blew the whistle and everyone swarmed off before I could respond. Even Sara limped away.

I cannot
believe
I am being taught to
physically harm
people and not feel bad about it. Did I accidentally sign up for
military
school? Are we in training for the battlefield? Whack someone on the other team today; kill someone from the Middle East tomorrow?