wear your heart on your sleeve. Well, some of your heart, anyway.”
Now I was blushing so hard there was no point turning around. My cheeks were burning so bright they’d be impossible to miss. “I wonder which part.”
“I wonder, too.” She grinned again.
We caught the bus, and for once, it wasn’t awkward. We talked, we laughed, and we smiled for the entire twenty-minute ride. When we got home and stepped into the dark, empty living room, though, we fell quiet, the sensation of being alone together rushing back like always.
It hurts to be alone with Tammy. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to make it stop.
She must’ve felt it, too, because she went straight for the stairs. “I’m so tired all of a sudden. I’ll probably fall asleep the second I lie down.”
“Okay.” It was obvious she didn’t want to be alone with me. “I’m getting a snack. Maybe watch TV.”
“Cool. See you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
But I didn’t get a snack after she disappeared upstairs, and I didn’t turn on the TV, either. Instead I grabbed a few sheets of paper out of the kitchen drawer and sat down to write this.
Since Tammy got here, I’ve been keeping my diary hidden on the highest shelf in my closet. That’s where I’ll stick these sheets of paper, too. She’s been upstairs for an hour now while I’ve been down here writing, so it’s probably safe to go up, but I’m not any clearer on what’s going on between us than I was before.
Who knows? Maybe if I hope hard enough it’ll all start making some kind of sense tomorrow.
Yours, Sharon
Sunday, June 18, 1978
Dear Tammy,
Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh.
Sorry, I know it’s odd for me to write you a letter while we’re living in the same house, but I’ll probably be gone by the time you get back from work (I’m meeting Kevin), so I’ll leave this on your pallet. If we’re lucky you’ll see it as soon as you get back.
Tammy…something’s wrong. Really wrong.
Half an hour ago, while Mom was out at the meeting for the church auction, I was alone—well, Peter was here, but he was upstairs getting ready to go out—and I was rummaging around in the kitchen for something to eat when the phone rang. I grabbed it off the hook and looped the cord around the door of the fridge. “Hello?”
“Hello.” The woman’s voice on the other end was tinny, hard to make out over the hissing sound that always hangs in the background when someone calls long-distance. I grabbed a leftover chunk of roast beef off the top shelf. “May I speak with Sharon, please?”
“This is she.” I carefully balanced the plate as I swung the fridge door closed.
“Ah, wonderful.” The woman paused. There was a smile in her voice, but it sounded thin. As though she had to remind herself to do it. “I apologize for disturbing you. My name is Mrs. Dale.”
I didn’t recognize the name. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call, ma’am?”
“You’re very polite.” Mrs. Dale chuckled. “Your mother raised you right.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I didn’t laugh as I opened the silverware drawer and grabbed a fork. Something about Mrs. Dale’s voice made me want to keep my guard up.
“Is the rest of your family at home this evening, Sharon? Or are you there alone?”
I set my plate on the counter and crossed my arms. “I’m terribly sorry, but what is this call regarding?”
“Now, Sharon, there’s no need for you to be nervous with me.” The woman chuckled again, and if I hadn’t been nervous before, I definitely was now. “We’re practically family ourselves. Your good friend Tammy is my niece.”
I swallowed hard. Panic simmered in my stomach.
Mrs. Dale. Of course.
But…why would your aunt call me?
The panic rose slowly toward the base of my throat.
“I hope you’re still there, Sharon.” The smile in her voice