I sit down on the corner of one of his double beds. He sits down on the other bed.

“What’d she do this time?” he asks finally.

“What didn’t she do?” I mutter.

“Start from the beginning,” Ben says. And so I do. Not the beginning beginning, because not only does Ben already know it all, but it would take about two years to go through all the problems Mom and I have. But at the beginning of today. The “mother-daughter day.” The magazine reporter. My fight with Mom.

Her admission about my long-lost dad.

By the time I’m done, Ben is just staring at me.

“I can’t believe it,” he says finally. “I mean, I knew she was cold. But she was keeping your dad from you? For six years?”

I nod. I don’t know what else to say.

“Star, that’s horrible.”

“I know.”

“How’d you turn out so normal?” Ben asks after a moment.

It’s something I’ve often wondered myself. But heaven forbid I say it out loud to Mom. After all, normal is a bad word in her vocabulary. Sometimes I wonder how I could possibly even be related to her. “It’s not like she spends any time with me anyhow,” I finally say. “I might as well have raised myself.”

“You pretty much did,” Ben mutters. After a moment, he puts a hand on my knee and looks me in the eye. “So what are you going to do?”

“I have to go find him,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel. I know it’s what I have to do. I just don’t know how. Ben looks surprised.

“Your dad?”

“Don’t I have to?” I ask. “At least let him know that I wasn’t getting the letters? That I wish I could have known him during the last six years? Maybe he’s normal. Maybe I have one parent who actually loves me—not my money—after all.”

“But what if he’s not the dad you hope he is?” Ben asks slowly. “What if he’s just like your mom?”

“He couldn’t be,” I say, shaking my head. “No way. And anyhow, it’s not just about him. Ben, I can’t stay here. I’m so sick of everything. I feel like everyone’s using me and lying to me. I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

“You can trust me,” Ben says.

“I know,” I say. I hesitate. “I just have to get out of here for a little while. I need to be someplace where every camera isn’t always on me, where I can walk outside without getting mobbed, where I can have a bad hair day or be in a bad mood or have a pimple without it being blogged about and making national news.”

The plan is crystallizing in my head as I hear myself say the words.