Dad and Layla are

not married. I'd made up my mind I wasn't going to ask, and I do hardly ever think about it. But, Joan said something to Bett today about Mr. Oberon's wife and Bett told her that they weren't married and Joan told me. That shouldn't make me feel as good as it does... It means he didn't cheat on Mom.

I overheard him that one day, talking to Pops in the graveyard, and he was wondering if he'd made the right decision - leaving Mom and me...

Now she's gone forever... and here I am... and I can't leave. I don't want to think about it - not right now.

Doctor Churchill told me

not to overdo it. But I couldn't help myself. She's had me doing all kinds of physical therapy for my shoulder and today she finally agreed that I could start Cliste Galad lessons! Wei would be proud! Well, actually she'd probably laugh so hard tears would stream down her face. Me, Joan, and three of the girls from here, all had our first lesson today. It was about balance - and I don't have nearly as much as I thought I did! I'm sure I looked like a little kid playing pin the antennae on the space ship. In my defense, we were all falling into the wall and into each other... I think I'm going to like it...

And, I think Joan likes that guy from... I can't remember the name of the village - but, I saw him smile at her, and instead of turning away, she smiled back! Yay!

I hope I stay asleep tonight... 

Dad got home

this afternoon. And, he had news from Chicago! Wei's father is now the face of the Media. Dad says that means Mr. Jenkins will be under even greater scrutiny, meaning it will be harder for them to communicate. But, once Media and the Governing Council are comfortable with his work, he'll be able to make inroads for the Resistance that they could only dream of before.

The Governing Council put a moratorium on the FeLS program while it's being investigated! At least for now, no more girls will be in danger. Joan cried when I told her. I hope there's some way for her to be reunited with Mike and the rest of her family someday...

Family... will Dad ever feel like family? I miss Gran. I miss Dee. Stupid tears...

Look at that...

my drool smeared the ink. I only laid my head down for a second and now it's morning. Layla's puttering around in the kitchen. I know because the smell of toast and coffee's curling up the staircase and into my room. I should go down and join her for breakfast. Dad's been up north for a few days and I know she misses him. I guess I do, too.
They've both been so nice to me...

But, how do you relate to a dad when you don't know what that looks like? Or feels like? I have no frame of reference, no comparison - except maybe Wei and Mr. Jenkins, cause it's for sure that Sandy and her step-dad... well, yuck. But Wei's dad was always around... mine was supposed to be dead...

I hear Layla coming up the stairs. I know she won't knock, she'll stop outside the door - probably think about knocking - then she'll sigh. She doesn't know I can hear her. Do I make her sad? Does she wish I wasn't here? I don't have the nerve to ask...

I haven't told anyone

about the nightmares. It seems like every other night I wake up in a cold sweat, my hands clutched to my belly where the knife grazed me. It wasn't deep, but it left a scar. Yeah, and not just on my skin. Right. I thought about talking to Bett, but Joan's the one who needs her help. What happened to Joan wasn't just a one-time thing. It makes me sick to think about it. What happened to me, well, they didn't actually do anything. I can handle it. It's no big deal. It's these stupid nightmares, that knife...

Look how the rays of the half moon fall across the paper. My words weave in and out of the dark, just like my thoughts...

It's so beautiful here. I didn't think I could ever love any place like I love Chicago, but I was wrong. I can't say I'm completely used to it, but I love being able to hear myself think. That's what Pops used to say when we'd find ourselves in a flurry of verts, "Can't hear myself think!" I don't miss the verts, that's for sure. But, damn, I miss Pops...

I'm here...

It's been six weeks since the veljet brought Joan and me to the Greater United Isles instead of Japan, like we'd planned. For the most part my shoulder's healed -- but my heart has a long way to go...

I just got back from visiting Pops. Well, his headstone, we don't have any idea what happened to his body after the murder. That's what it was, plain and simple murder. I don't know what the Governing Council or B.O.S.S. is doing to Kasimir Lessig, but I hope it's as painful as what he had done to Pops. I know I shouldn't hold on to so much hate, but that's something I'll have to learn to let go of...

Anyway, my father had a marker put in the cemetery. It's become a daily ritual for me to go there and talk with Pops. Sometimes I'm sure he's there, listening... sometimes I feel comforted... sometimes I feel so much anger...

I want justice - for Mom, for Sandy, for Pops... and for me.

Gotta go, I hear Joan and Bett downstairs...