Free Crystal by V. C. Andrews Page B

I know who aren't orphans. You must have good genes;' he concluded. "Your mother must have been nice, too."
I looked away.
"What did she die of?" he asked. I was silent. "What was her sickness?"
"She was a manic-depressive," I shot back at him, and stood up. "She died in a mental hospital. I'd appreciate it jj you wouldn't tell anyone. So, you see, my genes are not so good after all. I've got to go home," I said. "I told them I wouldn't be here that long."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean .
"It doesn't matter. Thanks for showing me your slides," I said, and headed for the door.
He came after me and took my arm to stop me before I opened the door. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to ask so many personal questions?'
"It's all right. I've got to learn how to deal with it," I said. "I'm just afraid, that's all, afraid of becoming her?'
"You won't," he assured me.
"I won't? What about your belief about genes?"
"You have your father's genes, too."
"He was worse," I said, without going into it. "Well, you have grandparents. There are lots of combinations and influences on who we are."
"When do we find out?" I asked him, my tears now bubbling at the lids.
"Find out what?"
"Who we are."
"We're always making discoveries about that," he said.
I opened the door.
"Hey," he said, stepping out alongside me. "What?"
"Thanks for coming over." He leaned in before I could react and kissed me quickly on the cheek. "Why did you do that?"
He shrugged. "My genes, I guess," he said, and laughed as he stepped back inside and closed the door.
I stood there for a moment with my hand on my cheek where he had kissed it. It had happened so fast, too fast. I was disappointed.
That's the first time a boy ever did that to me, I thought as I started for home. I tried to understand the excitement that made my heart thump and brought a heat to my face. There was a movement of feelings through my body, a current that rushed in waves from my legs, through my stomach, and up around my heart, sending trickles of electricity down to the very tips of my fingers. Was this love, my first love?
My eyes were filled with his green eyes. His smile fit like a glove over mine My brain of ten billion cells was a kaleidoscope of emotions. I felt sorry for him living like an orphan in that big, beautiful, expensive house. I wanted to go back and be with him. I wanted to hold him in my arms and tell him how to overcome the loneliness, a loneliness so strong that even all the money in the world, buying all the things he could fancy, wouldn't stop it from making his heart ache. I wanted to kiss his cheek, and then I wanted our lips to touch.
I wanted more, and what I wanted frightened me. I closed my eyes but quickened my steps. When I opened them, I was standing in front of my new home. I started to laugh.
It was funny. When I had left, Thelma had asked if I could see love under the microscope.
Maybe I had.

7 Seeing Stars
    Falling asleep was harder than ever after I returned from Bernie's house. Thelma kept me busy with chatter about a new nighttime serial she had watched for the first time. She described the entire first episode in detail, including its settings and all its major characters. My mind wandered even as she spoke. I could hear her droning on, and I watched her animated face go through all the emotions, plucking a sigh from here, a laugh from there, and then loading up on smiles and tears before she finished with the declaration, "This is the best evening program I've seen?'
    I promised to watch it with her next time and then went to my room to finish my homework and organize my notebook. My stomach felt as if it had a mad bumblebee buzzing around inside. I couldn't concentrate on anything and found myself gazing out the window at the stars. I was hypnotized by the glitter and twinkle of the jeweled sky, and when I did think, I realized I had rarely spent time looking at the night sky when I lived at an orphanage. I always felt shut up, contained, and chained by