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joke, Mom.”
    Mom: “What is?”
    Mike (fear rising in his chest): “What she just said. C’mon, let’s do the closet.”
    Mom: “I can’t. I can’t.” She puts the scarf down.
    Meg: “What—why? Did I do something wrong?”
    Mike: “No, you didn’t. Mom, tell her.”
    Mom: “I can’t tell her anything.”
    Meg (on the verge of tears): “What did I do?”
    Mike’s mom leaves. She’s in the hall.
    Mike (to Meg): “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know why he’s apologizing. He grabs his mom’s book and runs out to the elevator just as the door closes. Was she going to leave her book there—not to mention Mike?
    Mike: “What’s going on?”
    Mom: [nothing]
    Mike: “You know, that lady’s really upset.”
    Mom: “I can’t help her. I can’t do anything. Your father . . .”
    Mike: “What about him?”
    Mom (biting off her words): “He’s very busy, always busy.”
    Mike: “Well, it’s tax time, right?”
    Mom: “This is September. Tax time is April. Anyway, he’s a tax lawyer, not an accountant.”
    Mike: “Oh.”
    Mom: “You can be really out of it, you know that?”
    Mike is stunned. Look who’s talking!
    Naturally there’s a long wait for the bus. Once they get home, his mom goes straight to bed. Mike eats dinner by himself. He microwaves two Hot Pockets and grabs a pint of ice cream from the freezer. This is an unhealthy meal, even for Mike. Where are the harpies?
    Mike is convinced his mom is about to have a nervous breakdown, if she isn’t having one already. Where’s his dad? Hardly ever home. Mike’s on his own. What will he have to do, put his mom in a hospital? He thinks about Valerie. He loves her; if she fell in love with him, too, this could be bearable. They could go through it together.
    It’s an absurd plan with no grounding in reality. But he won’t listen to me.
    Mike can’t sleep. He turns his body this way and that; he feels like it’s taking up too much space on the bed (no mystery why, after Hot Pockets and ice cream). Mighty Joe Young keeps him company for a while before running off. At some point in the night Mike hears his dad come home, the creak of the floor downstairs, then the creak of his parents’ bedroom door. Mike thinks now he’ll be able to get some sleep.

CHAPTER 8
    THE NEXT MORNING MIKE IS UTTERLY EXHAUSTED. His head’s a blurry mess and he can barely see straight. For breakfast he scarfed down way too many Pop-Tarts, and his stomach is in knots. He sees Valerie in homeroom. Now or never, he tells himself, and goes right up to her. He inhales her flowery scent, which only makes him dizzy.
    Mike: “So how’d you get that scar?”
    Valerie: “My—what?”
    Mike: “On your face.” He hadn’t planned on saying this, but words seem to be beyond his control.
    Valerie (laughs): “I didn’t know it was that noticeable. I was eight years old, riding the handlebars on my sister’s bicycle. She turned a corner, fast, and—”
    Mike: “So you want to do something after school today?”
    Valerie (slight smile): “I’ve got dance.”
    Mike: “Can I go with you?”
    Valerie (no longer smiling): “No, Mike. It’s a school.”
    Mike: “I don’t mean I’d dance. I just want to watch you.” He wonders if this sounds creepy. He decides he doesn’t care.
    Valerie: “You can’t do that. It’s a school.”
    Mike: “Yeah, you said that. So you want to go out sometime, see a movie?”
    Valerie: “Well, that’s sweet of you to ask, but no. I know that’s the kind of thing kids our age do, but not me.”
    Mike: “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Valerie (taking a step back): “I’m very committed to dance. I don’t have a lot of free time.”
    Mike: “You expect me to believe that?”
    Valerie: “What?”
    Mike: “Do I need to say it again?”
    Valerie: “No, I heard you. I just couldn’t . . . this doesn’t sound like you.”
    Considering that she barely knows Mike, this is a strange observation. Mike looks down. He’s