She groaned. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re so naive. Don’t you even know where babies come from?”

“I know…” I suddenly made the connection. “Who?”

She didn’t speak for a few moments; then she started to cry. She said, “My stepfather made me.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Your stepfather?”

She was crying so hard I could barely understand her. “If I’m sent back home, something really bad will happen.”

I felt sick for drawing this out of her. I felt sick for my youth and for my stupidity. And I was aching from all the mean things she had said to me. Half of me wanted to hold her, the other half wanted to run. She continued to sob.

“He’s a very bad man. He told me that if I ever told anyone what he did to me he would hurt me and my mother. He said no one would believe me anyway. And you know what? They won’t. They always believe the adults.”

I tried to absorb everything she had told me. Finally I said, “I believe you.”

“I know you do. But you believe everything everyone tells you. You’re just a boy.”

This was the most hurtful of all the things she said. I looked away from her. “I guess I am. Well, I better go.”

“Eric?”

I couldn’t answer her; the lump in my throat was too big. I crawled out of the clubhouse without looking back. I heard her calling after me as I walked back to my stupid house finally sure of exactly who I was. I could pretend all I wanted but in the end I was still just a stupid, gullible, naive boy.

CHAPTER Twenty-eight

I broke my best friend’s heart only to learn
that it was really mine.

GRACE’S DIARY

TUESDAY, DEC. 18

Morning fell like a sack of concrete. My head ached and I had a sick, tight sensation in my chest akin to panic. All the good feelings I’d had over the last weeks were gone. It was the last day of school before Christmas break, a half-day, and something I’d looked forward to for weeks. Now I didn’t care. I didn’t have anything to look forward to. I told myself that I wished she were gone. I don’t know if I meant it, but that’s what I told myself.

I went to the kitchen and made Grace toast with butter, and put it and a banana inside a brown paper lunch sack. I walked out without my coat. I didn’t knock, just opened the door and tossed the sack inside like I was feeding an animal at the zoo. “Here.”

Grace had been waiting. She stuck her head out the clubhouse door. “Eric, can we talk?”

“No.” I turned.

“Please, don’t go.”

I walked away.