Corrine and Christopher Sr. had a deep and serious secret to hide not only from their own children but from everyone who knew them. That was why Christopher Sr. had created their new surname, Dollanganger. A family born out of a lie couldn’t end up well. Of course, it was understandable that neither would tell Christopher Jr. the truth and certainly not Cathy, not while they were still so young, and maybe they had thought they never would have to tell them the truth. Christopher Sr.’s fatal accident made it almost impossible to keep the big secret. Up to where I left off, I had the impression that Christopher was hoping his mother would come up with some other explanation. Maybe their parents weren’t related by blood or something.
I should have been more concerned about being late for school and my first class of the day, English with Mr. Stiegman, but my mind was totally absorbed by what I had read in the diary. I was almost surprised to find myself pulling into the student parking lot. I would have to go directly to the principal’s office and get a pass to enter school and my class.
Our principal, Mr. Market, was a very easygoing forty-five-year-old man. He had been principal of our school for nearly eight years now and was very well liked because he was always fair. I sensed that he was fond of me and impressed by my grade point average. I didn’t like to believe that I was treated with any more favor because I had lost my mother at an early age, but sometimes I felt it. There were many other students who lived with one parent, but that was because of divorce. Many of them had behavioral problems, and few were doing anywhere nearly as well with their grades as I was.
My father was never really on my back when it came to schoolwork. He was very proud of my achievements, but he never pressured me the way some parents pressured their children. I think what made me work so hard was my fear of disappointing him, even though he always made it seem like he would love me no matter what. Maybe that was why I worked so hard. He cared so much about me.
Did Corrine care as much for her children? She should have thought ahead and prepared for disasters. That was what adults did.
Mrs. Grant looked up from her desk with surprise when I entered the office. She was Mr. Market’s secretary, and, like him, she took personal interest in many of the students.
“I’m late,” I announced.
She stared at me a moment as if to confirm that I had said it and that I was really standing there. “What happened?” she asked, her face folding and crinkling as if it was composed of aluminum foil.
“I overslept. My father thought I was sick or something, but I forgot to set my alarm. I haven’t done that for a long time, and I overslept.”
She nodded and buzzed Mr. Market.
“Late arrival,” she said. “Kristin Masterwood. No, no written excuse. She says she overslept.”
She listened and then hung up the receiver.
“I have to give you a demerit and a pink warning slip,” she said, as if she was having a toothache. “Next time, it’s a week’s detention.”
“I know. There won’t be a next time.”
She smiled and gave me the slip, and I went to my first class. Everything stopped when I entered and handed Mr. Stiegman my slip. He shook his head, looking glum, and I took my seat. I didn’t look at anyone, even though I knew all eyes were on me. I realized quickly where we were in the reading of Macbeth and turned to the page in my textbook. When the bell rang less than fifteen minutes later, I was barely out of my seat before Lana and Suzette pounced. Right behind them was Theresa Flowman, gloating. She was my competition for class valedictorian. If we were neck-and-neck after this semester, behavior would play a role in the faculty’s choice.
“What happened to you? Why did you get a pink slip?” Lana asked quickly. I knew she was wondering why I hadn’t come up with an excuse for lateness that would have avoided a pink slip. Everyone else managed to get their parents to concoct something. No one seemed to believe what my father believed, that little lies were like plaque in your arteries, building up until you had a ruined reputation that would destroy you. In his business, where trust was essential, that was, he said, equivalent to a heart attack.
“Overslept,” I said as casually as I could.
“Maybe you’re trying too hard to be valedictorian,” Theresa said, intending her words to be little pins aimed at my self-respect.
“Theresa, you’ve got to stop thinking everyone is like you,” I replied.
Lana and Suzette laughed, and Theresa sped off.
“That girl is so horny I wouldn’t lend her a pencil,” Lana said.
“Stop,” I ordered, even though I couldn’t help smiling under my disapproval.
“Speaking of which, Kane was looking for you in homeroom,” Suzette said. “Each time he appeared, he looked at your empty desk as if he had lost his best friend or something. Actually, I never saw him like that. He looked like a lost puppy. You know about his party, of course?”
“Yes.”
When we started down the hallway
to our next class, Kane suddenly appeared right behind me.
“Where have you been, stranger?” he whispered. “Foxworth?”
“What?” I said, stopping and spinning on him. It was frightening for a moment, as if he had somehow found out about the diary.
“Just kidding. I saw you were missing in homeroom.”
“I overslept. It looks like major news around here.”