Joy has been acting weird lately. Well, she’s always weird, but since around Christmas she’s been certifiable. I mean, why does a thirteen-year-old lock herself in her room so much?
Not that I mind. I kind of like the silence. It’s better than hearing her have a cow every time I get the bathroom first. Or the hair torture.
But she at least used to notice when I was popping wheelies. Even gave me advice on how to lean my Schwinn Stingray back so I wouldn’t fall over. I pretended to ignore her, of course, but when she was gone, I tried one of her tips. Actually worked.
Now I barely see her. I wonder what she does in there hour after hour. Once, out of curiosity, I knocked and walked in before she could yell “Go away!” I found her curled around one of Mom’s books. The Exorcist.
The Exorci
