Chapter four or nine or whatever. It doesn't really matter.

The next morning I woke up with a headache. I could sense there was something wrong with Bob when I tumbled down the stairs and he didn't even look up. Ug! I was always doing that. I could be such a clutz and it was so embarrassing in that sort of way that could be cute to somebody maybe if they were into that kind of thing, but nobody would be and especially not because of me since I am really not an attractive person. I'm not unattractive, for the sake of argument and the fact that maybe other people think I might be pretty, but I am basically hideous.

I made myself a bowl of sugar-frosted jelly donut Os, which I munched with discontent. I hated cereal but ever since Bob had become Chief of the Fire Department, he hadn't had any time for grocery shopping.

"So, honey, any boys you like at that school of yours?" Bob had no class. I frowned, my blushing face becoming one with the down-turned corners of my mouth. Of course I had been thinking about Englebert a lot, but I wasn't about to tell Bob about it. I would rather have been run over by a truck, reincarnated as a spider, gotten squished and then set on fire than tell my father who I was into. Plus, he could be so dramatic sometimes.

"Um, not really," I replied halfheartedly. I could see in his eyes that he could see in my eyes that I was lying, but he gave it up. There's this unspoken rule that has been in my family for as long as I can remember: when someone lies, you just accept that they don't want to tell you the truth and you just need to drop it.

We were quiet for the rest of breakfast, and I silently got ready for school, where I also didn't talk to Bob, and then a little later after I got home he sat down at the table for dinner.

"I feel like I just talked to you," he chuckled, but there was a serious undertone to his voice. "I honestly don't know what you're referring to," I offered, but it was no use. He could see right through my cover. And in my family, when someone is giving a cover and the other person can tell, then they never let it go.

"What's eating you, Sweetie?" Sweetie? Great, more childish epithets. Exactly what I needed to grow up. "Nothing, Bo- I mean Dad." I shifted in my seat.

"I don't mean to pry, but I can't help but notice that you use adverbs when you're upset."

"When did I use an adverb?" I protested loudly.

"You said you 'honestly' didn't know what I was referring to."

Holy manatee! He had me. There was no denying it. I tried to ignore him by scooping out some green beans onto my plate. They were limp and soggy, much like the weather outside. Ug. Everything about Firth was soggy and limp. Except Englebert. 

My thoughts drifted to the soft, velvety sound of his voice. I pictured his geisha-like face telling me that it was cool that I didn't wear make-up. Yeah right. I was so ugly without make-up but I didn't want to wear it because I'm such a tomboy, even though I don't play sports or do any other boyish things, that I wouldn't even know where to start.

Bob cleared his throat, bringing me out of my reverie. I realized I was bushing, so I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. Blush city. I thought about baseball, parakeets,