mommies can feed Baby Harry.'"`
I shook my head. "Who would think these things of him? People have no idea what he's like at home. I know you couldn't meet a more pleasant man when you talk to him in his drugstore. My parents think he's very nice."
"He smiles at everyone until they smile back. Remember that line Mr. Potter used in English class when he yelled at adorable little Bobby Sandow? 'The devil bath a pleasing face'? Something from a Shakespeare play."
"Yes."
"Well, that's Harry." She paused and looked around. "Where's your father, by the way?"
"He's tied up in some legal matter and won't be here until later."
"Just the two of us?"
"Yes."
"Great. Let's eat soon. I'm starving," she said.
How she could have an appetite under these circumstances amazed me. I had just lost mine but pushed ahead. She set the table, jabbering away about Alice Bucci and Toby Sacks smoking a cigarette in the girls' room.
"You'd think they were the first ones ever to do it. They took two puffs each and flushed it down the toilet. Now they think they're big deals. I swear the girls in this school are as lightheaded as foam on an ice cream soda. Did you see what Abby Jacobs was wearing today? That pleated skirt she wore was so short you could see what she had for breakfast when she bent over. I was so embarrassed for her."
On and on she went, as if we were living in a television show, her voice not revealing any of the deeper tensions or the events she was living through at home. Anyone listening to us would surely think we were typical teenagers. They would never dream we were planning to confront a sexual abuser and save Karen from the horrors that occurred in her own bedroom.
She paused and looked at me and saw what I was thinking. "Stop worrying so much, Zipporah. If you walk around with that gloomy face all day, someone is going to wonder why, especially your parents. We don't have to dwell on it. It will only make us nervous and afraid, and then we'll fail, and things will be worse."
I nodded. She was right of course. I had to admire her strength.
I smiled.
"I made us some chocolate-drop peanut butter cookies."
"You did?"
"It was just a mix. Nothing special."
"I don't even know how to open the box," she said, and we laughed.
She rattled on and on, talking more about what life would be like once "the Harry thing," as she called it, was over.
"I'm always worried about developing a relationship with any boy at school," she said. "It's all because of Harry."
"I don't understand."
This was the first I heard she would even consider any of the boys we knew as a boyfriend. It made me think of my recent phone conversation with Jesse.
"I feel . . . dirty," she said.
We had eaten our dinner, and I had just put out the cookies. She took one and nibbled on it the way a rabbit would.
"I feel like they, anyone, would know the moment he touched me, kissed me, even held my hand." "That's silly."
She looked up quickly. "No, it's not, Zipporah. You have no idea what it's like. Don't say that it's silly."
"I didn't mean it that way. I meant . . . I meant you shouldn't feel ... that way," I stumbled. "No one could look at you and know anything. I don't know anyone who can hide trouble or worry better than you can. I'm always wishing I was more like you."
She looked at me and smiled as if she could turn off one emotion and turn on another with the ease of changing channels on a television set.
"Yes, you're right. It's just a psychological problem right now. It will go away soon, as soon as the Harry thing is over."
"Whom do you like at school?"
She shrugged. "Hey, I wouldn't throw Dana Martin out of the house," she said, and laughed.
Dana Martin was the school's basketball star. At six-foot-two, with a shock of light brown hair and cerulean eyes that practically beamed when he smiled, he was what any girl would call a dreamboat. He had a steady girlfriend, Lois Morris, but he did like to flirt.
"What about you?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"You should know,
I shook my head. "Who would think these things of him? People have no idea what he's like at home. I know you couldn't meet a more pleasant man when you talk to him in his drugstore. My parents think he's very nice."
"He smiles at everyone until they smile back. Remember that line Mr. Potter used in English class when he yelled at adorable little Bobby Sandow? 'The devil bath a pleasing face'? Something from a Shakespeare play."
"Yes."
"Well, that's Harry." She paused and looked around. "Where's your father, by the way?"
"He's tied up in some legal matter and won't be here until later."
"Just the two of us?"
"Yes."
"Great. Let's eat soon. I'm starving," she said.
How she could have an appetite under these circumstances amazed me. I had just lost mine but pushed ahead. She set the table, jabbering away about Alice Bucci and Toby Sacks smoking a cigarette in the girls' room.
"You'd think they were the first ones ever to do it. They took two puffs each and flushed it down the toilet. Now they think they're big deals. I swear the girls in this school are as lightheaded as foam on an ice cream soda. Did you see what Abby Jacobs was wearing today? That pleated skirt she wore was so short you could see what she had for breakfast when she bent over. I was so embarrassed for her."
On and on she went, as if we were living in a television show, her voice not revealing any of the deeper tensions or the events she was living through at home. Anyone listening to us would surely think we were typical teenagers. They would never dream we were planning to confront a sexual abuser and save Karen from the horrors that occurred in her own bedroom.
She paused and looked at me and saw what I was thinking. "Stop worrying so much, Zipporah. If you walk around with that gloomy face all day, someone is going to wonder why, especially your parents. We don't have to dwell on it. It will only make us nervous and afraid, and then we'll fail, and things will be worse."
I nodded. She was right of course. I had to admire her strength.
I smiled.
"I made us some chocolate-drop peanut butter cookies."
"You did?"
"It was just a mix. Nothing special."
"I don't even know how to open the box," she said, and we laughed.
She rattled on and on, talking more about what life would be like once "the Harry thing," as she called it, was over.
"I'm always worried about developing a relationship with any boy at school," she said. "It's all because of Harry."
"I don't understand."
This was the first I heard she would even consider any of the boys we knew as a boyfriend. It made me think of my recent phone conversation with Jesse.
"I feel . . . dirty," she said.
We had eaten our dinner, and I had just put out the cookies. She took one and nibbled on it the way a rabbit would.
"I feel like they, anyone, would know the moment he touched me, kissed me, even held my hand." "That's silly."
She looked up quickly. "No, it's not, Zipporah. You have no idea what it's like. Don't say that it's silly."
"I didn't mean it that way. I meant . . . I meant you shouldn't feel ... that way," I stumbled. "No one could look at you and know anything. I don't know anyone who can hide trouble or worry better than you can. I'm always wishing I was more like you."
She looked at me and smiled as if she could turn off one emotion and turn on another with the ease of changing channels on a television set.
"Yes, you're right. It's just a psychological problem right now. It will go away soon, as soon as the Harry thing is over."
"Whom do you like at school?"
She shrugged. "Hey, I wouldn't throw Dana Martin out of the house," she said, and laughed.
Dana Martin was the school's basketball star. At six-foot-two, with a shock of light brown hair and cerulean eyes that practically beamed when he smiled, he was what any girl would call a dreamboat. He had a steady girlfriend, Lois Morris, but he did like to flirt.
"What about you?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"You should know,
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