I believe in a higher power, but you can't call it merciful. No, not at all.

It's the power of my father, all will and rules and law, and governed himself by **

Deadly Sins, chief among them avarice and lust.

The only two that don't apply **

are sloth and gluttony. That last one I lay claim to, and before I go to work, I plan on **

giving into it wholeheartedly.

Gluttony interrupted leads to Gluttony, with a capital G.

191.

No Time for a Major Lovefest I'll have to make do with a sugar OD, leave the five food groups for next time.

Look at me, already plotting a next time. What's up?

Stupid question, Kaeleigh.

What isn't up? You can't maintain a relationship with the only guy in the world worth loving.

Your father's a freak, your mother is invisible, your friends don't get you at all, and you for real like it that way.

School used to be an escape.

Now it's just another place with too much pressure, too much confrontation, and so not enough joy.

Your entire life is joyless.

Go ahead. Eat. Pig out, in fact.

Food is real, too much of it the only thing you feel.

(Except the razor.) So feel.

192.

Still Feeling It As I pedal my bike up the hill toward the Lutheran home.

Several days until the time change, it shouldn't be too dark when I leave. But I'm going to have to figure out a better way to and from this place once night falls when it's still afternoon.

I despise the short days of winter.

Don't even like the holidays, and why would I? The only good thing about them is the omnipresent food. But all that phony good cheer?

Spare me. Or jump me straight from Halloween to Easter.

I definitely do candy, so I'm great with those noncelebrations.

Halloween is actually stupid, unless you're under twelve.

I know some adults like to dress up (or down) in costumes, drink too much, and ogle one another. I remember Mom and Daddy doing that when Raeanne and I were little.

193.

but I totally think everyone past middle school really ought to give it a break. Except maybe witches and vampires. I don't believe in werewolves. But moon worship, bonfires, and--oh yeah, especially--a little bloodletting seem like reasonable things to me.

I doubt anyone here at the old folks' home would want to play those games. But they are having a Halloween party. William, dressed up like a pirate? Greta, maybe a French maid? Ha! Too funny.

I was invited, and, thinking about it, I might just have to go.

Sounds like more fun than spending the evening answering the doorbell and topping off greedy kids' pillowcases.

194.

I'm Almost to Work When a car beeps and slows to a stop nearby. It's a truly forgettable vehicle--a well- used Toyota something, silver.

The surprise is who's driving.

Brittany. She and I have known each other for years. But not well enough to swap secrets.

Hey, girl! Bet you can't guess what I did this afternoon.

She pauses, and must decide I'm really dense.

Like my ride?

"Hmm. Let me see. Did you get a haircut? No. Manicure?

Nah. Your nails look awful. Oh. What did you say?

Something about...your ride?"

I smile. "Got your license, huh?

Oh hey, did you leave school early?

You missed all the excitement."

I heard about it on the news.

Top of the hour on the radio.

Not the best radio, but at least I've got tunes.

195.

My smile grows. "Yeah, except for top of the hour. Congrats on the license. I probably won't get mine until I'm old **

enough to drink legally. Anyway, I gotta run. Drive carefully. We don't need another statistic, as my dear old dad would say."

No worries. I don't plan on being a statistic, unless it's a good one. Hey, want a ride to school tomorrow?

I hardly ever take rides from friends, and I start to say no, but she looks so hopeful, I just can't. "Why not?"

We agree on a time and away she goes, and as I pedal up the driveway, it occurs to me that Brittany (plus Toyota) **

just might come in handy, especially when winter hits for real. Long as her car has a heater, of course.

196.

No Party Tonight At the old folks' home, just more of the same ol', **

except for one major thing.

Greta has a visitor. Someone **

very special, from the past. I can tell he's special by the sparkle **

behind her spectacles. I can tell he's from her past because **

they're speaking in Danish, something I've never heard **

her do before. I'm fascinated, and even though I can't **

understand more than a word or two, I keep finding excuses **

to exit the dining room (where I'm supposed to be getting **

everything set up for dinner) in favor of the sitting room.

Greta and her visitor have parked themselves in front 197.

of the fireplace, and their conversation seems every bit **

as cheerful as the song of wood, crackling behind them.

As dinnertime nears, more and more people stir around them, **

but they are so caught up in each other, they barely notice.

If I didn't know better, I'd definitely guess this was love.

198.

Looks Like Love And dear Greta.........so deserves love, it makes me happy.......to see it glowing all around her, glowing...inside her, filling her up with this beautiful light. Such brilliant light must come straight from heaven, if such a place really exists. She believes it does, so for her, it's real, and maybe that's enough to make I t so.

Real or no, this gentleman caller dropped in from out of the blue, so I'll just go ahead and make believe he was divinely inspired to bring a healthy dose of light into Greta's life. Her smile is ethereal. It makes...me shiver as all up and down my arms,....a colony of goose bumps lifts. And suddenly, a jab **

of jealousy nails me in the gut.

199.

Envy Surges Scarlet hot through my veins.