Secrets in the Attic (Secrets 1)

"I had some," I quickly confessed.

"I thought you didn't like them," my mother said.

"Someone told me they were good with some jelly on them, so I tried it," I added. Karen had once told me that.

"Well, is it?" my father asked.

I nodded. "It's not my favorite thing, but it's okay."

"Nerves make us nibble and munch On things almost unconsciously," my mother explained, but it looked as if she was explaining more for herself and my father than for me.

"Eileen, let's get her calmed down before she eats us out of house and home," my father joked, which again broke the tension.

Our happier mood lasted through dinner. The phone rang a few times as the story of my mother's argument in the hospital cafeteria was circulated through the gossip network. Karen and I were always amazed at how quickly news like that spread. She thought it might be the birds that lighted on telephone wires.

"They fly around depositing the gossip on different telephone lines."

It was a funny idea. I'd miss those silly little conversations, I thought, conversations we didn't have to hide from the world and conversations we could hold without a dark shadow hovering over us.

Once again, after dinner, I lay quietly in my room and listened to see if I could hear her moving about above me, giving herself away. She was remarkably quiet, so much so that I actually wondered if she had left. She would at least put a note in my bathroom, I thought. Where would she go, anyway? How would this end?

I had a harder time falling asleep this night than the one before, because I kept anticipating what it was going to be like in school. I couldn't stay away another day. My absence would attract even more attention and interest.

The following morning, my father decided he would drive me to school. He didn't want me riding the bus. I knew he was hoping to prolong any confrontations or unpleasant discussions for as long as possible, and he also thought I'd have more insulation against them when I was actually in the building and under the supervision of the teachers. He gave me advice all the way there.

"Don't be like your mother and react to anything. Try to shrug it off. In time, it will all go away, believe me. The girls who disliked Karen will probably be the nastiest," he told me. "Speaking of that, how come she didn't have more friends, Zipporah?"

"I don't know," I said. Was he going to ask me why I didn't, either?

"Kids in school can be so clannish. It's hard to be a real individual sometimes. If someone is really annoying, don't hesitate to go to your teacher and ask for help. Don't think you have to carry it all on your shoulders. Karen took the easy way out, running away," he added. "For now, it seems easier, but it won't be easier later on, believe me. If she had any reason to do what she did, she should have gone to people who could have helped her."

He glanced at me to see how I would react. I looked out the window. I knew what he was doing. He was giving me every opportunity to tell him more, to tell him what I really knew.

"I know you feel sorry for her. That's all right. You should. She was your friend," he continued. "But Harry Pearson was well liked. No one can say anything bad about him. His customers thought he was compassionate and considerate, and as far as anyone could tell, he was providing a nice home for Karen and her mother. That's all true, isn't it, Zipporah?"

I closed my eyes. "I thought you didn't want me to talk about it for a while," I said. "You keep talking about it. You're making me so nervous I don't want to go back to school." My voice got so shrill it even surprised me.

"Yes, you're right. You're right. Sorry. I'm just as guilty as everyone else around here. Damn."

He leaned over to give me a kiss when we drove into the school parking lot. He held me a moment longer.

"I'm proud of you, Zipporah," he said. "Proud of the way you're holding up under all this."

It nearly brought me to tears, tears of happiness and tears of guilt. One again, I was on the verge of confessing it all and asking for his help and

forgiveness. He turned away before I could.

"Thanks, Daddy," I said, and got out quickly. If I remained a moment longer, I was sure I would confess it all.

I didn't look back, but I sensed he was sitting there watching me walk toward the school entrance to be sure I was all right. I passed through the front door. It didn't occur to me until then that Karen wouldn't be inside. We wouldn't hang out at our lockers and enjoy making comments about some of the other girls who buzzed around us like frantic bees. What I was actually afraid of facing were not the questions that would come my way but the little silences that Karen and I filled for each other to make each other comfortable and secure.

I suddenly felt as if I were entering the school for the first time, with a first-time student's anxieties. I was alone once more, searching for a friendly smile.

Who would become my new friend?

Whom could I trust with my friendship?

And who would want to trust me with theirs? Especially now.