you got to keep in the game
retaining mystique while facing forward
i suggest a reading of a lesson in tightropes
or surfing your high hopes or adios kansas

I couldn't be sure how much time had passed while I was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. But when I finally dragged myself back downstairs to investigate the damage, it was dark. Fi, Clu, and Annie were hunched over the coffee table in the living room engaged in what appeared to be a fierce match of Scrabble. I wandered into the kitchen, where I found Ned and Irene chopping vegetables at the table. I sat in an empty chair across from Ned, and I must have looked as desolate as I felt, because Irene looked concerned and put a hand to my forehead. "Honey, are you feeling okay?"

Oh, sure. I'm feeling great. The love of my life, or so I'd like to pretend he isn't, is in there about to make the biggest romantic mistake of his life by pursuing my sister instead of pursuing me. I'm perfect. "Yeah," I said. "I'm fine."

"Good." She tossed a carrot and a peeler my way.

We worked quietly for a few minutes before the screen door slid open. Carey reached over Ned and grabbed a chopped carrot piece from the bowl in which Ned was depositing his casualties. Ned smacked his hand and he dropped it back in. "My hands are clean," he protested when Ned glared at him.

He bent down behind me, whispering in my ear one simple word: "Annie?!"

"Why not?" I whispered back.

He just looked at me.

I laughed.

He patted my shoulder and returned to the back porch, sliding the door shut behind him. I could hear music, an unfinished song being worked out, by the sound of it. Lots of stops and starts.

After dinner, I was headed to my room when Annie grabbed me by the sleeve and attached herself to me as we walked up the stairs. "It didn't go so well," she confessed.

"I'm sorry."

"No," she said. "I'm sorry."

What? He hadn't told her, had he? How could he violate that kind of con--

"I shouldn't have jumped on that whole hair thing. I've just been kind of depressed lately. You see," she whispered, "I didn't come back here for you." I guess the look on my face must have misled her, because she said, "I'm really, really sorry."

"No, no," I assured her. "I'm just surprised. Who'd you come back for, then?"

She blushed. "Zach," she said miserably. "Stewart? You remember?"

"That jerk with the magnets?"

"Yeah."

"Annie, he could have killed you with that little stunt."

"But he's really not that bad! I've been e-mailing him since he got out of the institution and wrote me a very sincere apology." She paused. "It's possible that the nurses made him write it, or maybe he was on his medication when he wrote it, because it didn't really sound like him, but anyway, we got to be good friends and I kind of--"

I interrupted her, in the interest of ending the conversation more quickly. "So have you seen him since you came back?"

"No. He's always 'busy.'" She rolled her eyes. "He just doesn't want to see me. So I thought that if I couldn't get what I wanted, maybe I could at least help Fi. And Clu. And Carey. And you!"

"Uh," I stuttered. "I don't really need any help with that, really, you don't--"

She just smiled mysteriously and lowered her voice. "I know your secret." Before I could protest that I didn't have one, she was gone as suddenly as she'd appeared.

Oh, no. Now what? Had he told her? Clu wouldn't have. He didn't even like her, so he certainly wouldn't trust her with that kind of information.

I decided to lock myself in my room until morning.

But my plan was interrupted by a light knock on my door at about midnight. I thought I'd heard everyone say their good-nights a while ago. My heart sped up. Could it be? When I opened the door, I tried not to let the disappointment show. "Can I come in?" Mom whispered.

I opened the door and sat on the bed. "What's up?"

"You've been awfully withdrawn since you got home," she noted, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the doorframe. "Always up here like you're hiding from something."

"I've just got some stuff going on," I said vaguely.

She looked mildly hurt, but covered it up quickly. "Okay, well, if you want to talk, you know, I'm just saying"

"It's not anything important. Just typical stuff."

She nodded, and it looked like she was about to leave, but instead she paused. I looked at her expectantly. She bit her lip. "I feel like I should" She stopped. "It's just that Fiona's got all this going on that she doesn't want to talk about, and I understand that, you know, but I sort of expected that you might be more forthcoming about what's bothering you. I guess I just can't accept the idea that my children don't need me to fix things for them anymore."

And I wanted to spill the entire story to her, tell her about one night four years ago that was either the biggest mistake I ever made or the best thing I ever did, tell her about why I had been on edge the entire time I'd been home, ask her for advice. But I couldn't. Not yet. I couldn't make myself say the words. I could think them, I could scream them inside my own head, but when it came to actually opening my mouth and letting it all out into the open I wasn't ready to let go of my secret, and it occurred to me that I might never be.

"I swear, if I have a problem, I'll come and talk to you about it. But I really don't have one right now. It's been hard to adjust to this whole extended family thing after being at college. Fiona's probably having the same adjustment issues. But we'll be fine. I'm getting used to it again." I smiled reassuringly, and it seemed to work.

After she left, I realized how guilty I felt for flat-out lying to my own mother. Even if it was for her own good. But I didn't have a choice, did I? It wasn't just my choice to make. It was his, too. I couldn't ruin both our lives without his consent, which I knew I wouldn't get, because I was the one who had demanded that the secret never get out. I was the one who pretended it was just something we did. I was the one who said it could never happen again. And now, four years down the road, I was the one who hadn't gone one single day without thinking about what it would be like if it happened again. And again, and again, and again

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to find solace in sleep.