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hasn't asked me yet. Maybe I'll get out without lying today.
    Rowena stops playing the piano. "So, have you heard?"
    Or not . "Um, nope. Nothing yet."
    She grins. "Good. Then I get to tell you. I talked to a friend of mine who teaches at the school. You got
    in!"
    "Great. Wow… um… that's great."
    "Isn't it? They're all so excited about having you there."
    "Great." Do you know another word ? "Wonderful…"
    "What's wrong, Caitlin?"
    At this point, Fred the cat nuzzles my shoulder, and I mumble, "I'm not sure I want to. I mean, I'm really happy studying with you. I don't want anything to change."
    This is something I've thought about. I've been taking voice with Rowena since middle school. I had to
    beg Dad to pay for lessons, and I had to ride my bike to get there (still do), but it's worth it. Rowena used
    to be a real opera singer. She traveled all over the world, but gave it up to raise her kids. The coolest
    thing about Rowena is she's nothing like my mom. She's like the Anti-Mom. She's let her hair go gray and
    she wears it long down her back, and probably doesn't even own any makeup. Rowena knows just how
    much to push me—enough so I have something to work for, but not so much that I want to drink gasoline
    after a lesson. And she'd never tell me to get long layers.
    I'd miss it a lot if I couldn't study with her, and maybe I wouldn't have time if I changed schools.
    But she says, "That's the coolest part though. I just got a job there myself."
    "You what?"
    "Yeah, I thought now that Harmony's in college, I could work full-time. If you go, I can see you every day.
    Isn't that just cool?"
    I agree it's very, very cool, even though my head's pounding now, but her voice is all excited, and she asks
    again if I'm going to go. I hear myself say, "Sure."
    She wipes her hand across her forehead like, Whew! What a relief! "That's so great. I was worried
    because, with the new job, I probably won't have much time for my private students. But this way, I can
    keep you on."
    "You mean you couldn't otherwise?" Because, um, my head's about to explode .
    "It doesn't really matter now, does it, since you're going?"
    "No." I agree that no, it doesn't matter, and yes, it's really wonderful, and then I ask if we can sing some more, because I really want to work on this piece I'm doing. It goes up to a high E-flat, and that's the
    closest I can get to socially acceptable screaming.

    Opera_Grrrl's Online Journal
    Subject: I am *Such* a Liar
    Date: April 25
    Time: 11:03 p.m.
    Listening to: Medea
    Feeling: Worried
    Weight: Same

    I'm listening 2 Medea (see above). It's abt. this wicked sorceress from Greek myths. Right now, Medea's singing about how much she hates her ex-husband, Jason, how much she loves their kids, and finally—
    Hey—why not kill the 2nd to get revenge on the 1 st?
    In her room, Mom's screaming @ Dad about child support—now 40 days late.
    See the irony???

    I stop typing and turn off the stereo. A few minutes ago, Mom came in and said it was almost eleven and
    she had a headache, and couldn't I just listen to rap music or something like other kids. I left it on until
    now just to prove my point.
    "Do you want to go to court?" Mom screeches. Then she sings an aria about what her lawyer will do to
    Dad if that happens.
    A pause while Dad checks his bank balance.
    Then I guess he says something because she yells, "Oh, I'd like to see that!"
    And she hangs up.

    Mom's in the bathroom when I walk in. She has all her Emma Leigh products in front of her on the
    counter. When I was little, she used to let me put makeup on her, like she was a big, pretty doll. She'd do
    makeovers on me too, and tell me that someday, when I lost weight (she called it "baby fat"), I'd be so pretty… just like her. Everyone would want to date me. I once went to career day dressed as a
    cosmetologist.
    She hasn't offered to do my makeup since I got thin and might actually look good.
    I say, "What would you like to see?"
    She jumps. "Oh…