Running Springs, CA, 1986: Life here is so different from my dad's that I can hardly believe it. First of all, no school! No arguments from me, I hate school and the mean kids there. My mom's going to homeschool us. In the meantime, we pretty much have the run of the place. I explore the forested and rocky areas and quickly develop a knowledge of an area of perhaps a mile- peppering this area with small forts, hiding places, and learning the trails and trees and the best places to go climbing. I don't tell my mom exactly where I go or what exactly, because she worries about really insignificant things. She's forever thinking that I'll get hurt. Other girls don't want to roam around with me, but my brother does, and there are a few other boys who I'll let run around with me- not boyfriends, just hiking buddies. I still miss Matt and write his name in the dirt with sticks.

My mom asks me what I want to learn in school, and of course, about the only thing that interests me is art. When people say that maybe someday I can be an artist, I get sort of mad but try not to let it show. I tell them that I'm already an artist and then they back off and shut their mouths. None of the ones who've said that can draw like I do, so why are they condescending like that? I draw constantly.

Something else I like is sewing and making craft projects. My mom gives me the go-ahead on a box of fabric, and pretty soon I've got oodles of stuffed animals cut out and ready to sew together. I'm thinking of making every animal I can possibly think of, like a Noah's ark but with only one of each animal, not two. I am voraciously creative, and other people's opinions of my work are hardly heard, let alone taken to heart.

The food we eat here is different. We eat a lot of meat, cheese, and fresh fruit. Dennis brings home entire boxes of oranges. In fact, they seem pretty liberal with money in general. If they want something, they buy it right now, and the object doesn't have to be needed very much or even long desired. If they see it and maybe they want it, it's theirs.

The house is always bouncing to the happy sound of Debby Boone, a Christian singer my mom likes. They said that Julian Lennon and Michael Jackson were evil, so I had to break my favorite records and throw them away, because they weren't Christian. I still have some Christian rock (Petra)that Dennis doesn't care for, but it's Christian, so I get to keep it. They never play classical music here or sing old hymns like we did at the Lutheran church. It's always this upbeat modern Christian pop.

Also, Dennis hates for me to talk about or to be interested in boys or men. He's always saying that it's a good thing I didn't stay in Chicago, or I'd probably end up with a chocolate baby. He doesn't like blacks, and he really doesn't like it if I talk like one, which I can do quite convincingly, having mingled with them as friends for years. I think Valente, the Mexican worker, is cute. He has soft, gentle dark eyes and an easy going personality. When Dennis sees that I like him, he tells Valente to leave me alone or he'll cut off his balls. After that, Valente says that he likes me but he's afraid to talk to me anymore.