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called,” Connie said. “I told her you were at Kit’s.”
    â€œThank you,” Val said. She could just imagine what Michelle had to say. Probably that her parents were Siamese twins, and she’d been adopted out of the circus. She walked upstairs to her bedroom, closed the door, and threw herself on her bed. She shouldn’t have. Her head began throbbing again.
    The phone rang. It was Val’s private line, so she knew the call was for her. In spite of that, she picked it up.
    â€œAre you all right?” Kit asked.
    â€œI’m fine,” Val said. “You didn’t have to send for Bruno.”
    â€œYou didn’t have to leave,” Kit replied. “Do you want to come back? The kitchen’s pretty much done.”
    â€œSome other time,” Val said. “Thanks anyway.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Kit said. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow?”
    Val realized that was a question. It hadn’t occurred to her to skip school. “Of course you will,” she said.
    â€œOkay,” Kit said. “Oh, Michelle called here a few minutes ago. I told her you were on your way back home.”
    â€œThanks,” Val said. Apparently, there would be no avoiding Michelle. She hung up the phone, and rested on her bed. She loved her bedroom. Right after her mother died, her father had agreed to let her redecorate, and it was the only space in the world Val thought of as being truly her own. The walls were lavender, the woodwork and curtains crisp and white, and the bedspread she currently lay on lavender and purple flowers. Her mother had hated lavender. “It’s an old lady’s color,” she’d said once. When Val had picked lavender for the walls, she’d felt naughty and rebellious and just a little bit guilty all at the same time.
    She could picture her mother now, in the quiet darkness of her bedroom, not just in illness and death, but the way she’d been when she’d been healthy as well. Val had loved her mother, who seemed always willing to play dolls with her, or school, or dress up. “Don’t tell Daddy,” her mother used to say when the two of them would share a forbidden activity, putting on makeup, or going to the movies. Val smiled at that memory. Her mother would tell Bruno to drive them to Terry’s house and pick them up there in three hours, and once they were safely dropped off, the two of them would run the five blocks to the local movie theater and see a movie instead. Bruno never suspected a thing, or if he did, he never let on. Her mother loved to laugh. That was how Val knew things were bad before anybody told her. Her mother didn’t seem to laugh anymore.
    The telephone rang. Val told herself not to answer it, but picked it up anyway. Michelle would just keep calling until they spoke.
    But it wasn’t Michelle. “Hi, honey,” her father said. “Just thought I’d see how you’re doing.”
    â€œI’m fine, Daddy,” Val said. “How’s Washington?”
    â€œLousy,” her father replied. “Same as always. They’re real song-and-dance men over at HUD. Half of them tell you one thing, the other half say just the opposite.”
    â€œSounds bad,” Val said. She forced herself to sit up, and was surprised by the wave of nausea the motion evoked.
    â€œI’ve had better days,” her father said. “And you?”
    Val laughed. “I’ve had better ones too,” she replied.
    â€œAnything the matter?” her father asked.
    â€œI skipped dinner yesterday at Terry’s, and Michelle was real mad at me,” Val said. “And we had a pop quiz in English I think I flunked.”
    â€œSounds like a perfect Monday, all right,” her father said. “Tell you what. Next weekend, if the weather’s any good, let’s go sailing. We may not have another chance before springtime. We’ll make a day of it.