Now her mom couldn’t do anything and Michael was monopolizing her dad, as usual. The other day she’d found them in the barn together, her father introducing him to all the old tools Poppy and Ann had never gotten excited about. Her father put his arm around Michael’s shoulder and said, “Makes me feel good that you’ll know how to use this stuff. After I kick the bucket, these tools will be yours, and trust me, they’ll come in handy. An old house like this doesn’t take care of itself.” It hadn’t occurred to Poppy until that moment that Michael’s adoption meant that the tools, and even the house, would also be his. Michael beamed from ear to ear.

She loved Michael, so why did she feel so selfish? She wanted to tell Michael that the house was theirs, and summer was her time with her father, because during the school year she had to share him with his beloved students. They all thought Mr. Gordon was the epitome of middle-age coolness. He swore and told inappropriate jokes. When students raised their hands to answer a question, he’d call on them and say, “Speak your piece.” He showed his students how history is complicated and biased. He taught in a game show format, had his students analyze the lyrics to Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie protest songs, arranged field trips to tour ethnic neighborhoods, and invited Holocaust survivors and former socialist mayors to speak to his classes. Until she started high school, she had no idea how much everyone loved him: jocks, preps, and geeks. They high-fived him when they passed him in the halls. “Yo Gord-O!”

Poppy stomped into the kitchen, angrier than she felt she had a right to be. Her niceness didn’t get her anywhere. It made her as invisible as her sister’s occasional bitchiness made Ann stand out. Ann, the queen bee, had the power to make everyone, including Poppy, feel both incredibly small and hugely important, depending on her mood. Ann was driven, hungry for a bigger life. Poppy, on the other hand, was usually agreeable and easy. She was the person teachers always paired with the new kids. She never got upset, never got angry, or at least she didn’t let her anger show unless it built up.

And it had been building up for a while now. She loved Michael. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that nobody had bothered to consult her. They figured she’d be fine.

Only she wasn’t, not lately.

Poppy threw the cabinet door open and slammed a mug on the counter. Michael was great, he was. He was! She poured the leftover, burnt coffee into her cup, and stirred in several tablespoons of sugar.