mother picked up the cat brush on the nightstand next to Sierraâs bed and began brushing Cornflake, who stretched himself out luxuriously to make the most of every stroke.
âYour fatherâs a fighter. Iâm not. Thereâs a lot to be said for being somewhere where you donât have to fight. From what I read on their Web site, the educational philosophy at Beautiful Mountain is based on peaceful principlesâcooperation, not competition. And I like that it focuses on creativity and the arts.â
Her motherâs confidential tone made Sierra feel that she could ask the question: âWhy did you marry Daddy? You two are so different.â
âWell, thatâs what they say, that opposites attract. The short answer is that I married your father because I loved him. I still love him.â
âBut what made you start loving him in the first place?â
Sierraâs mother continued to brush the cat, who had now rolled over onto his other side.
âWhen we met, he was already in law school, and I was an undergrad. Even then I was trying to write plays, and he came to a student showcase where my first one-act play was having a reading.â
âBut Daddy doesnât even like plays.â
âHe came with a friend, James, who did like plays, or at least liked girls who wrote plays, or at least liked me.â
âAndâ¦?â
âI heard someone in the audience laugh at the wrong placeâwell, it was the right place, it was a funny part, but he laughed a couple of seconds too late, like he didnât get it until the moment had already passed. And then when I met him afterward, I was intrigued, because he was so confidentâhandsome, too, and charming, but mainly so confident. But he had laughed at the wrong time. It was sort of touching. Like he had this one little vulnerability. Like I was going to be the chink in his armor, or maybe I was going to be the one to get through the chink in his armor. Anyway, even though I was dating James, your father asked me out, and I went, and then I married him.â
Sierra lay back against her propped-up pillows, the last bit of waffle settling into her contented stomach.
âDo you still think of him that way? Like he has chinks in his armor?â
Sierra couldnât see any chinks at all.
âEveryone has chinks in their armor.â
âEven Daddy? What chinks in his armor does he have now?â
Her mother stood up. âHe has you. Believe me, he has no defenses where youâre concerned.â
She lifted the tray from the bed. âThe chink in his armor is loving you.â
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18
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Sierra worked on her Mayan culture report after breakfast and had the first draft finished by noon. If she wasnât going to be expelledâand she really would like to know which it was going to beâshe wanted to catch up on all her work and still earn Aâs in everything for the quarter. She wished she hadnât gotten that one B last year in earth science, even though the reporter made it sound like it was an amazing thing to have only one B for your whole time in middle school.
After lunchâlentil soup that had smelled delicious simmering on the stove all morningâSierraâs parents headed off for an afternoon movie date; Sierraâs dad had called ahead to make sure the theater was still open despite the weather. It would take more than a snowstorm to keep her father at home if he had an outing planned. He always did fun things with Sierra and her mother after a big case settled, overcome with jubilation at winning. Sierra knew that most of the time, for her father, âsettlementâ was another word for âvictory.â
Before reading through her Mayan report on her laptop to see if it still looked as worthy of an A + as it had half an hour ago, Sierra checked her e-mail.
She had a message from Mr. Lydgate, the teacher who directed all the Longwood choirs, including