What Every Girl (except me) Knows by Nora Raleigh Baskin Page A

kitchen and go look at shot glasses.
    Cleo must have looked to see that I was gone, because there was a long pause before she answered her mother.
    “Remember, it’s not Larry’s first wedding, Mom,” I heard Cleo say, but I was already hurrying to the living room, more interested in seeing what Ian had gotten.
    *
    The shot glasses were already put away. Mr. Bloom was showing Ian and my dad pictures of their recent trip to Israel. Ian held a small, foreign-looking string instrument in his hands. Judging from the wrapping paper on the table, the instrument had been a gift for Ian.
    “Oh, here, I have something for you, too, Gabby,” Mr. Bloom said when he saw me come into the den.
    “I hope it’s not too babyish.” He handed me a train of four tiny, wooden camels, strung together by a miniature chain.
    “I love it,” I said as I breathed in.
    I held my gift all the way back home in the car. I looked down into their little carved faces. I saw their expressions. They were a family, from big to small, connected from one end to the other. I almost fell asleep holding them in my lap. Ian had his present in his hands, too. He even let me listen to his Walkman. I was going to like this family.
    I put the volume up on the Walkman, so I could barely even hear my dad and Cleo having a “discussion” about the wedding all the way home.

Chapter 24
    I wanted to call Taylor as soon as I got up the next morning. She had said she’d be home by Thursday night, because she was going to have a second Thanksgiving with her mom and Richard on Friday.
    It had been a whole week and I hadn’t told her my big news yet—that I had gotten my first period. (Although it was gone two days after that, almost as suddenly as it had appeared.) And I hadn’t even told her about Cleo yet, let alone that my dad was getting married. Maybe it hadn’t really sunk in until Thanksgiving and all that wedding talk.
    I really needed to make this phone call.
    I tiptoed out of bed. I didn’t notice anything unusual in the kitchen or anywhere else around the house. Except that it was quiet. The windows were frosted with cold condensation. The wood floor was freezing under my bare feet. I looked at the clock—seven forty-five. Too early to call Taylor. Mrs. Tyler looked like someone who cared about her beauty sleep. She would definitely care if I did something rude and called too early.
    I’d just wait awhile.
    By five past eight I was getting antsy. Where was Cleo? Ian was known to sleep through the whole morning. But my dad was an early riser. He got up with the first light, checked everything in the house, made his coffee, and was out in the studio working by seven. This morning I seemed to be the first one up. I decided I would eat something, then go look for someone. While I was contemplating the breakfast cereals in the pantry, I turned around to see my dad.
    “You look terrible,” I said.
    “I didn’t sleep much.” He walked over to the sink to start the coffee. He opened three cabinets before he found the filters.
    He really did look terrible. He filled the coffeepot with water.
    “Dad, can I call Taylor?” I started. “Is it too early still? What would—” I didn’t get to finish.
    “Sure, sweetie.” He walked out of the room. He forgot to plug in the coffee machine.
    When Cleo was around so much in the beginning it felt weird. And then after a while it didn’t anymore. But it’s funny how things can fall right back to the way they were—so quiet, with Dad and Ian and me going about our business, not talking much. It was a long while before I even noticed.
    “Cleo’s still sleeping?” I asked, pressing my Rice Krispies into the milk.
    My dad had wandered back into the kitchen. He plugged in the coffee machine. The water starting steaming right away.
    “Cleo’s not going to be around anymore,” he said. He stood watching the hot water drop into the glass coffeepot.
    My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth. That’s when Ian