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“Oh, that’s nice.”

“With her boyfriend,” he added. “Should be interesting. It will be the first time my parents have met him. I hope my mother doesn’t put him in the maids’ quarters.”

“She wouldn’t do that, would she?”

“My sister would turn around and leave if she did.”

I stood up, and we began to put the attic back to the way it was.

“Maybe we should skip tomorrow,” I said. “Sounds like you’ll have lots to do.”

“No, no,” he quickly responded. “She’ll be showing him around all day. We want to get as much read as we can while your father has this schedule, right?”

“I’m not sure what his schedule will be. I’ll find out tonight.”

“Well, even if he’s back for dinner, we still have a few hours after school. I don’t want to whiz through it, but I can’t help but wonder where this is all heading.”

“Okay,” I said.

He smiled, but I could see that he was still quite disturbed. We walked down to my room. He started to pick up his books, paused, and flopped back on the desk chair. I stood there for a moment and then sat on my bed. He looked emotionally exhausted, like a shadow had darkened his eyes even more.

“Do you want to stop reading this?” I said, holding up the diary. “Because if you’re saying what you’re saying and doing it just for me . . .”

“Oh, no, no. I can handle it.”

“Then what is it? I see that something’s seriously upset you.”

He smiled. “I’m still reeling from your fantasy and the frustration that followed.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t try to joke your way out of this. I’m getting to know you too well.”

“You mean I’m losing the famous Kane Hill mystique?”

“What is it, Kane?” I persisted.

He nodded, a sign of surrender, and then leaned forward, thinking. When he looked up, I could see he had decided on something very important to him. I held my breath. My mind raced from one end of the spectrum to the other, ranging from thinking he might tell me about some terrible illness he or someone in his family was suffering to imagining a confession about something terrible he had done. If it involved one of the girls in our classes, I was hoping he wouldn’t reveal it.

“I’m still a virgin,” he confessed instead.

If there was anything I did not expect to hear, it was that. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Of course, I was sure I looked skeptical.

“I know, I know,” he continued, putting up his hand before I could say anything, not that I knew what to say. “I’ve got this reputation. Funny, the girls I have been with would never say we hadn’t gone that far if they were asked. It would reflect more on them than me, I guess. It’s not that they didn’t want to; it’s more that I didn’t want to with them. Do you believe me?”

“No.”

He nodded. “Understandable.”

“Why tell me that, anyway?” I asked. “You think that is the reason I’ve held back, that you’ve been with so many other girls, and I’d just be another?”

“Well, it could be your reason.”

“If I thought you believed that, I would certainly be even more skeptical about what you’re saying now, wouldn’t I? Naturally, I’d think you were manipulating me.”

“I guess, but you’re about as easy to manipulate as a steel rod.” He leaned back.

“Remember that conversation we had once about why some girls are easy and some aren’t? You’ve tried to get me to go further, Kane. You’re not exactly Mr. Shy. You don’t come off as a virgin.”

“I wanted to, yes. I wanted to upstairs just now. I don’t think I ever wanted to more. I want to every moment I’m with you. You think that’s dirty or something?”


Tags: V.C. Andrews Young Adult