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Nana.”
    Again I swallowed and nodded in agreement. I wonder what else Nick had mentioned.
    “Your brother said you two thought you’d head back over to see him again some time.”
    “If that would be okay with you, Mom.” Obviously Nick hadn’t told her anything else, or at least anything else that would worry her.
    “Why wouldn’t it be okay? I think it’s sweet the two of you want to spend time with a lonely old man. But there is one condition,” she said slyly.
    I held my breath.
    “You have to tell me any stories he has about your grandmother. I heard she was quite an interesting lady when she was younger.”
    “Sure, no problem,” I answered, exhaling.
    “Better get up and get moving,” Mom said as she left my room. I listened to the floor creak as she walked. She stopped in the bathroom.
    The entire farmhouse had hardwood floors that creaked and groaned underfoot. The worst part was at night. Long after we went to bed and the lights were off, the floor continued to make noises. Mom said it was like that when she was little and she used to be scared by the sounds. When Nick heard me say it mademe nervous, he started telling me stories. So I started propping a chair under the doorknob every night, just in case the floors creak because someone is coming.
    I threw back the covers and hung my legs over the edge of the bed. I felt with my feet until I found my slippers, tucked in under my bed, as they always were. I slipped them on and stood up. I plumped up my pillow, put it in its place, pulled up the covers and made my bed.
    I heard Mom singing. She sang a lot lately, songs from the radio, songs I liked. It scared me.
    One of the first things to change with my father was the music he listened to. One day he’s normal and listening to “adult” music and then as fast as you can change the dial, he’s listening to rock and roll. Next he started to wear his hair differently. My dad began to grow his hair long on one side so he could comb it over his bald spot. Then, he went out and bought a new, red, convertible sports car. And worse, he bought it without even talking it over with Mom. That was the biggest argument I’d ever heard them have. The funniest thing was watching Dad drive with the top down, his long strands of hair trailing behind him like a horse’s tail.
    I strolled down the hall and peeked in the open bathroom door. Mom was standing in front of the mirror. She was wearing high-heeled shoes and a skirt that I thought was too short for either a lawyer or amother. I watched in fascination as she started to apply her makeup. She put on this thick-looking pink stuff and rubbed it into her neck and around her eyes. She told me this was to hide her wrinkles. I didn’t really think she had enough wrinkles to worry about hiding. She then put blush on her cheeks and started layering on black mascara. Before my father left, she hardly wore any makeup at all. She called it the “natural look.” I guess that meant she was now going for the unnatural look.
    “Do you want to try some makeup?” Mom asked.
    She’d startled me. “Ah … no thanks,” I mumbled.
    “I’m sure a lot of girls your age, in your grade, will be wearing makeup.”
    “Just because a lot of girls will be wearing it doesn’t mean I have to!”
    My mother turned around and we exchanged strange looks. This was probably the only house in the whole country where a mother was trying to
convince
her teenage daughter to wear makeup.
    “I don’t think she needs to wear makeup,” my brother piped up.
    I turned around. I didn’t even hear him come upstairs. One of his favourite new games was seeing if he could move around without causing the boards to creak so he could surprise us.
    “Isn’t that sweet!” Mom beamed. “Your brother thinksyou’re so attractive that you don’t need makeup!”
    “I didn’t say
that
,” Nick protested. “I meant that it wouldn’t
help
.” He instantly turned and ran along the hall and down