Looking at the Moon by Kit Pearson

mother was already gone, not even noticing Norah and Janet as she marched past them up the steps.
    â€œWell, I’m not going to stay out here all morning,” said Janet. “I was in the middle of painting my toenails.”
    They ventured into the boathouse again, pretending to ignore Clare, crumpled up on her bed and sobbing into her pillow. “Everyone picks on me,” she wailed. “It’s not fair …”
    Janet put on “In the Blue of the Evening” and hummed along.
    â€œTurn that off! I don’t feel like listening to records!” Clare hurled her pillow towards Janet and it landed on the record, sending the needle screeching across it.
    â€œ Now look what you’ve done! You’ve ruined it!” Janet snatched up the record, examined the ugly scratch, then threw it down and dashed out the door.
    â€œThat was really mean,” said Norah. “It was her favourite.”
    â€œOh you shut up! It’s none of your business, Norah Stoakes—you’re not part of this family. You should be grateful that we took you in. And another thing, Norah—I’ve noticed how you follow Andrew around. You may as well give up. You’re not nearly good enough for him. Anyway, you’re only thirteen—it looks ridiculous for someone your age to go mooning after a nineteen-year-old.”
    Norah was speechless. She almost jumped on Clare and pulled her hair. Last summer she would have. But now she just wanted to get away from her.
    â€œYou—you are despicable !” she hissed. She ran out even faster than Janet had and didn’t stop until she collapsed on her rock.
    Clare knew about Andrew! Would she tell Janet and Flo? Worse, would she tell Andrew? Did everyone know? Were they all laughing at her?
    Norah sat up and hugged her knees against her sweaty blouse. If only it were last summer, when her lifeat Gairloch was so simple. She almost wished she could cast off her feelings for Andrew. But she couldn’t—it was as if she had an incurable disease.
    And she hardly even saw Andrew these days, which made her long for him all the more. He’d been spending all his time with a family on the mainland. Janet told her they were the brothers and sister of a boy he’d been very close to who was now in the air force. Jamie and Lois and Dick Mitchell, his friends were called. Norah smouldered with jealousy every time she heard their names.
    T WO HOURS LATER Norah sat listlessly on the dock with her fishing rod. She’d had a long swim but she was already hot again. Thunder rumbled in the distance; a storm was holding its breath but couldn’t let it out.
    â€œAny luck, Norah?” Aunt Catherine stood behind her, holding her knitting and fanning her face with her hand. “I thought I’d come down and sit by the water to see if I could catch a breeze. I certainly wish the weather would break. Just listen to those cicadas buzz! They’re always especially loud before a storm.”
    Norah didn’t tell her that her hook wasn’t even baited. She tried to smile at Aunt Catherine but could only manage a shrug.
    Aunt Catherine pulled one of the heavy wooden chairs up beside her. “You look rather seedy, Norah. I hope you’re not coming down with anything. Do you feel all right?”
    â€œMmmm,” said Norah, trying to control her irritation. It wasn’t like Aunt Catherine to be this nosy.
    â€œEveryone seems to be under the weather today,” continued the old lady. “‘Under the weather’—that’s a very appropriate phrase when you think of it, as if the weather held us all squirming under its thumb. Mar is upset with Clare—and I must say, that child gets more impossible all the time. Dorothy told Mar that she shouldn’t have been away so long—now Mar isn’t speaking to her. Florence and Bea are having the most absurd argument over how to pronounce ‘forsythia.’