"Hey, Glen?" asked my dad. Dad knew what I was doing too, since he had always watched the competition between Darcy and I. If it had anything to do with wits, I won. If it had anything to do with tans and boobs, she won. I wasn't sure which kind of exchange it was this time.

"Yeah, Randal?" asked Glen. Glen didn't want to be friends with my dad because of the way he had treated my mom.

"Do you like horseshoes?"

"Yeah," said Glen. He adjusted the collar of his dress shirt. He must have been taking Mom somewhere nice. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I just noticed your set over there. It's very nice," said Dad, making an attempt at flattery. He was a grade A kiss up when he wasn't being a grade D cheater.

"Thank you. My son made it for me on my birthday," said Glen. He smiled at Jake. "Do you want to play?" No one ever wanted to play horseshoes with Glen. Jake didn't like it, and I couldn't throw the heavy shoes.

"I would love to," said Dad. I didn't know he could play horseshoes. He used to spend all his time at work, or inside watching the news with a grimace on his face.

They walked off to Glen's horseshoe set and started playing. Glen was obviously better, but I had decided that Glen was better than Dad at almost everything. Just like Jake- they were good at things. They just were.

"Clare!" called Mom from the kitchen window. "Clare, come and help me for a minute."

In the kitchen, Mom had dinner ready- spaghetti and garlic bread. "Set the table," she said.

"For how many?" I asked.

"Seven," she said.

"We're going to let Owen eat at the table?" I asked.

"Yes, we are. Why are you so hard on that boy?" she asked.

"He's not a boy. He's an ape," I said as I got the plates out of the cabinet.

"I'm sure you didn't think that when you got out of his truck," said Mom. I dropped a plate a little bit harder than I should have.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't deny it. I saw that big smile you had on your face," said Mom as she reached for the glasses out of the other cabinet. "What it is with you and your relationships?" she asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I grabbed the pitcher of tea and the pitcher of water out of the refrigerator and sat them in the center of the table.

"It means that I've never seen you have a normal relationship." I didn't take the dig hard, it wasn't strange to hear something critical from my mother, but it got me thinking.

I didn't respond for a long time. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for a normal relationship. Maybe there's something wrong with me," I said with a shrug.

"Clare, I didn't mean it like that," said Mom, trying to smooth things over.

"Yes, you did," I said. And she was just too nice to admit it.

"I . . . I didn't mean to . . . What I meant was . . ." she stumbled over her words. She was just sharing the family sentiment- that there was something fundamentally wrong with me. My grandmother actually thought that I should be institutionalized and treated with shock therapy because I was 'a little too off'. "Maybe you would benefit from talking to a professional about your feelings?"

"The table's set," I said, ignoring her. "Do you want me to call everyone in?"

"Please."

I kept the stony expression I wore when my mother suggested I see a therapist on until I made it to the door. I felt weak. I leaned against the door for support. Mom was just trying to help. I knew that, but it didn't make me feel great that she thought there was something wrong with me. There was something wrong with me, but I didn't know what it was exactly. Everyone has that problem. Other people can see what's wrong with us, but we can't.

I knew what was wrong with everyone outside. Oh, I could tell you that Dad was never happy with what he had, and Glen had low self-esteem since his wife left him. Jake lacked internal direction, and wasn't ever exactly sure what to do. That led him to go with his gut. Darcy had been devalued one too many times, so she liked to let us all know how much better than us she was. Lastly, Owen was afraid of things he didn't understand.

But me? I didn't know what was wrong with me.

Just before I opened the door, Owen rushed in. I stepped back. "What-"

"Your sister can't take a hint!" he laughed. "I said I had to go to the bathroom just to get away."

"Yeah, that's Darcy. She's a few Saltines short of a cracker box," I replied slowly.

"Emphasis on cracker," he laughed. "Clare, what's wrong?" he asked. "You look a little green."

"Oh, nothing. I'm fine," I said. "Mom's got dinner ready. I was going to tell everyone else," I said as I tried to walk past Owen. He pulled the door closed behind him and put his other hand on my arm. I closed my eyes and swallowed, trying my best not to lean into his touch. I had a weakness for warm, strong hands.

Instead of leaning in, I stepped back and caught my heel on the stairs. Owen's hand had slipped from my arm, and gripped my wrist coming down.

"Thanks for trying to catching me," I said sarcastically. Owen smiled and tilted his head. Why would he catch me? Was I stupid enough to think that he actually liked me?

"Why should I catch you," he put his knee down on the stairs and leaned closer . . . closer . . . closer. "When I can do this instead?" he asked as he put his hand on the step behind my head. Owen nuzzled my nose with his. Unlike inside the movie theater, I didn't turn away from his first kiss.

I shouldn't have been kissing him back, but, what the Hell? One more time couldn't hurt. It wasn't like I could have stopped him.

I felt disgusted with myself. It was like . . . I couldn't get away from Owen, and I liked it. I really should have felt very scared. Owen had me in a position that I couldn't get away from. He was on top of me, and I was just lying on the floor in his shadow.

When Owen moved down to my neck, I heard something rustling in the kitchen.

"Owen my-" my breath hitched. He found that special spot on my neck, right above my collar bone. I scrunched my eyes and tried to gather my thoughts through my foggy mind. "My mom is-oh,"

"Is mommy in the next room?" crooned Owen sadistically. "Are you afraid that mommy is going to catch you, little girl?"

"No- ah," he scraped his teeth against my neck as he put his other knee down on the other side of me. "I just don't-"

Owen kissed my lips again. "Shut up," he said.

"You shut up," I whispered back.

Owen scoffed, and stood up. My body shivered, since Owen was just so warm. "I don't want to get kicked out," he said sadistically. "I can't let your parents get a bad impression of me. They wouldn't let me go out on another date with you."

"I'm never going on another date with you," I whispered half-heartedly. I got up and went right to the door.

"Yes you are. You can't resist me," he said.

I laughed as I opened the door, thinking he'd been joking. He didn't want to go out with me again. I was a loser- a brainiac with a soft heart for other losers.

A flash from the sidewalk caught my eye. Mom was standing there, with her big camera in her hands and a stupid grin on her face. "A perfect shot!" she exclaimed as she reviewed the picture on her camera. Everyone looked at her. "Dinner's ready."

"Mom, how'd you get out here?" I asked on the way back inside, after everyone else had passed.

"Oh, I used the back door," she said.

"What for?" I asked.

"Well, I just heard you and your friend talking . . . I didn't want to ruin a moment you may have been having."

"You've never worried about ruining my moments before," I said.

"Well, I just felt kind of bad, since I married your boyfriend's dad. I owed you one."

"You know who owes both of us one?" I asked.

"Who?"

"Darcy."

"You've got that right," laughed Mom.