Free That Boy From Trash Town by Billie Green

head back against the wall, he reminded himself that Whitney wasn't used to people shouting at her. She had been pampered and protected all her life, but she couldn't stay wrapped up in cotton forever.
    It was time for her to wake up and see that the world was a hard place. It was time for her to understand that you have to be tough to survive.
    So why did he feel like such a jerk for being the one to push her into reality?
    * * *
    Whitney entered the house through the back door. It was going to be a while before she could look her mother in the face. And now that Dean—
    She stopped the thought before it was fully formed, and by the time she reached her bedroom and locked the door behind her, she had successfully pushed the scene in Dean's bedroom out of her mind.
    As she sat in the window seat, hugging a cushion close to her chest, she found that her mind was a complete blank. She couldn't feel anything now. Curious. There was no anger, no love, no pain. Very curious.
    A fearsome drowsiness took over, and she wasn't sure how much time passed before she heard a knock on her bedroom door.
    "Darling... Whitney, your door is locked."
    "There's news," she muttered, then sank her teeth into the cushion as bitter laughter rose in her chest and throat.
    "Doris Louise Pfeiffer called while you were out. She can't remember if the committee decided on green tablecloths or white. I told her, as firmly as I could without being rude, that you couldn't possibly have voted on green. But you know how she is. Of course I wouldn't say this to anyone other than you, but this is not the first time I've wondered about Doris's taste. When she was only a child, she—"
    The laugh was growing out of control, choking Whitney as she buried her face in the cushion. She knew she should thank her mother for providing a distraction. Anne was after all, helping Whitney push the debilitating numbness away.
    As energy returned, so, too, did the memory of everything that had happened to her today. Her father, her mother, Dean...
    No. She still wasn't ready to think about Dean. Someday she would be able to come to grips with what had happened between them, but not now. If she thought about it now, it would kill her.
    Drawing in a deep breath, she leaned her head against the cool glass. It certainly had been an interesting day. Her fluffy little mother had finally slipped away from her for good. And just as she had feared, Whitney was left with a handful of nothing. She didn't even have De— Couldn't she even think a single thought without having him intrude? she wondered peevishly. Other things had happened today. Why did Dean keep taking control of her thoughts?
    But of course, Whitney knew why. She'd lost him. This was what an earthquake must feel like. This was what it was like when the most solid thing in life shifted beneath your feet. Where did one go, how did one keep standing, when the ground below began to buckle?
    Her father was alive, and Dean didn't want her around. Down was up and up was down.
    Whitney knew what Anne wanted her to do. Her mother would prefer Whitney pretend nothing had happened. She wanted Whitney to forget that her father, her wonderful loving father, was still alive somewhere in the world.
    She moved restlessly on the window seat, finally managing to center her attention on the astounding fact that her father was still alive. Did he know about the lies? Did he know that his daughter thought he was dead? Was he a part of the intolerable deception?
    "No," she denied in a hoarse whisper.
    He couldn't have known. Lloyd Grant had loved her. There was no doubt in her mind about that. She wouldn't still feel the solid strength of his love after all these years if it had been a lie.
    But why hadn't he ever gotten in touch with her? And why had he left in the first place? Even if Anne had driven him away, even if the marriage had gone wrong, why had he disappeared from his daughter's life?
    It simply didn't make sense. Nothing made