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been there. “It
still doesn’t add up to shooting.”
    I didn’t see why it couldn’t. But she was the
psychologist.
    Still, I knew a few things. “Everybody’s
different. People can’t be pigeonholed.”
    She smiled. “Maddie, you are very wise. Just
stay alert. That’s all I ask.”
    The phone rang twice during dinner. It was
cordless, so we couldn’t leave it off the hook. We had to look up
the instructions and find out how to turn off its ringer.
    “It’s your boyfriend,” Ben muttered.
    “He’s not my boyfriend!”
    “A person like that,” said Rhoda, “finds it
hard to move on.”
    “He’s obsessed,” I said.
    “That’s exactly what I mean.”
    “What makes them that way?”
    “Maddie,” she sighed, “I would love to give
you a very knowledgeable answer. Unfortunately I don’t have one. It
might have something to do with insecurity.”
    It seemed that way to me, too. On the
surface, what would Evan, a handsome, blond, hunky football star,
have to feel insecure about? Maybe he thought he wasn’t living up
to himself. Or to his parents’ expectations. Sometimes parents
could do that to a person.
    I had known Evan for ages, or at least knew
who he was. We’d both spent our lives at Lakeside. He was a grade
ahead of me. I used to see him in the halls and on the football
field. I played French horn in the school band, so I was there
during games. I didn’t think he knew I existed. All I could do was
drool from afar.
    Then one day last June I saw him in the music
store. I turned away and pretended not to notice. He was browsing
through Country Western. I was looking at Beethoven, for Daddy.
    I felt his eyes on me and got all shivery. I
still didn’t look, but I sensed it when he moved closer. He said,
“Hey, how are you?”
    Ordinarily I’m not a shy person, but for a
few seconds I was tongue-tied. Mostly from surprise. Evan Steffers
talking to me? “Doing okay,” I said. “How about you?”
    His eyes followed my arm down to where my
hand was. “Classical! Is that what you’re into?”
    He said it as if it was weird. I liked all
kinds of music. The band played classical and light classical for
concerts. Marches for parades and football games.
    “Father’s Day,” I said. “My dad likes
Beethoven’s Ninth. He never got around to buying it for
himself.”
    That led to a long discussion about music. I
found the Ninth Symphony and got ready to check out.
    Evan abandoned his own search and followed me
to the register. “How about catching some pizza?”
    I couldn’t believe it. Lakeside’s star
quarterback was asking me out? I wasn’t even a cheerleader.
    That was the beginning. I lived a dream for
the rest of June and July.
    Then he started getting possessive. It began
with him resenting every time I talked to anybody, even Ben.
    “I want you to keep away from other guys,” he
said, and clearly meant it. Even though I told him I wasn’t with
any guy except him. We were in the record store again when he said
that. He’d been sorting through the latest selections.
    He grabbed the back of my neck in a pinch
that nearly cut off my blood supply. “You’re mine, and don’t you
forget it. I don’t want you talking to anybody.”
    I’d read about guys like that in advice
columns. I had never actually seen one before, and tried to get out
of his grip.
    “Like yesterday,” he fumed, holding tightly.
“You made a big scene in the hallway with that long conversation.
Everybody noticed.”
    “It was only a minute and it was my brother.”
And I didn’t think anybody noticed or cared.
    “Your brother’s adopted, right?” As if that
was a reason for me to steer clear of him.
    How did he know so much about us? “Yes, but
what’s it got to do with anything? He’s my brother. It
doesn’t matter if he’s adopted.”
    “He’s not related to you. I don’t like you
getting cozy.”
    “What cozy? Evan, he’s my brother. So
what if he’s adopted? I never get cozy with any guy