Towering

the tops of the sunflowers we’d planted) with blond hair and eyes the romance writers would call piercing. I never really knew what that meant before, but now I do. His eyes looked like, if they met yours, they’d go through you like a skewer. And, weird enough, you’d enjoy it.
    Even though I didn’t know him, I wanted to go down to see him. After all, I hadn’t seen anyone except Mom and Old Lady McNeill, who sells milk and eggs out of her backyard, since school ended a month ago.
    Now, a NORMAL person could just say, “Hey, Mom, there’s some weirdo in the backyard,” and then go out and ask him what he was doing there. But I was not a normal person, so I had to sneak.
    Mom was sewing or something in her room, so I knew there was half a chance I might make it out if she didn’t leave, and if she didn’t hear the creaky step when I went downstairs. But the rain would help with that.
    Still, Mom has the hearing of a cat, so I crept as slowly and carefully as I could downstairs, stopping every few steps to listen. Nothing. When I got to the kitchen door, I glanced outside and saw him again.
    Oh, yes, he was FINE. Jeans ripped in all the right places and a tight, white T-shirt (wet, an added bonus) that made him look like Dylan on Beverly Hills 90210 (because TV is the only thing I am allowed to do). Sure, he was probably a homeless person or a perv. Or a serial killer. But, hey, a girl can’t be too picky, especially around here. I had my hand on the doorknob when I heard a voice.
    “Where do you think you’re going?”
    Mom! Instinctively, my hand flew off the doorknob. Wrong thing to do. I took a deep breath and tried to look calm. “Oh, wow, you scared me. I was just going . . . to take a walk.” I could feel my heart ramming against my chest, almost like it might burst through.
    “In this rain?” Her face was pleasant, but her voice was suspicious.
    “I’m bored. It’s been raining all week. I haven’t gone anyplace all summer.”
    It was true. Since school had gotten out, Mom had been weirdly overprotective, even for her. She’d always been secretive, strange, which is why I hardly had any friends, but it seemed like, one day, her tiger instincts had gone into overdrive, and now, every little request to go someplace, even the grocery store, was refused.
    I don’t even know WHY Mom is being so weird. A few years ago, a teenage girl disappeared. Kelly David. Kidnapped, maybe, but they never found any evidence, so maybe she ran away. Everyone was paranoid for a while, keeping their kids inside or only letting them go out in groups, waiting beside them at the bus stop until the bus pulled away. But, gradually, they calmed down. Can’t live in fear, right? Mom had calmed down too. But suddenly, she started acting like it just happened. “You know,” I said, “lots of people my age have cars and go to Glens Falls or even Albany and don’t have crazy mothers hanging over them all the time. Most people are going to college. It’s only me who has to be a homebound freak with a freak mother!”
    Her hand shot up and struck my face, just like it was nothing. Not even a movie-esque “How dare you!” Just a slap. I stumbled back, and she reached to catch me. But then, she saw something out the window. She pushed past, letting me fall.
    “A boy! You were going out to see a BOY?”
    “What boy? What possible boy could be out in the boonies on a day like this?”
    But, of course, it was true. She’d seen him.
    “Why must you do this to me?”
    Do this? Me? Me, who’d never had a boyfriend, never been on a date? Not that I hadn’t been asked, but I knew better than to try and go out with anyone. I knew she’d flip out like she was flipping out now. My mother is insane. I’ve always known that. And I also know that, if I’m going to get away from her and her insanity, I am going to have to sneak away, somehow in the dead of night. It’s just . . . I’m scared.
    I looked up from the notebook. Sneak away in the dead of night. That was what she’d done. Would the diary explain why?
    She was still yelling, and I was crying and saying, “No, no! What are you talking about?”
    And then, her hands were around my arms, icy fingers like handcuffs, and she was pulling me away from the door, up the stairs and to my room. I tried to fight her, but she’s surprisingly strong. Finally, she shoved me through the door, slammed it, and I heard her key in the lock.
    And here I am now.
    I put down