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I intended to go to sleep early myself, but Elliot's invitation loomed in my thoughts. Try as I would. I couldn't drive the images, the words, out of my mind. Rationalizing that if I didn't go to his house he would carry out his threats and make more trouble for Mommy and me. I slipped out of the house, put on my shoes, and, with Cleo right alongside, ran all the way through the wooded path to the edge of Elliot's family's property.

Once there. I hesitated, looking at the lighted windows. It was nearly eight o'clock. Suddenly I heard the back door of the house open and then saw him standing on the rear porch, looking toward the woods.

I stepped out and walked slowly across the field. Cleo trotting alongside.

"Do you have to bring that dog everywhere you go?" he asked.

"If I didn't, he'd bark and bark, and my mother would wonder where I had gone," I told him.

"Well, he can't come in. My sister will hear him." "He's going to bark," I warned,

"Okay," he relented. Jeez. I feel like a ten-yearold when I'm with you."

"So don't be with me. I'll go home," I said.

"Forget I said anything. Man, you are the most sensitive guy I know." He smiled. "C'mon," he said. "I always live up to my side of any bargain I make."

"This is probably a bad idea." I said. He tilted his head and smiled.

"Trust me, you won't be disappointed."

"I didn't mean that," I said, but he already turned and opened the door.

"Just be quiet," he said in a whisper and beckoned for me to follow.

We entered through the kitchen. Cleo followed behind, sniffing everywhere. When we reached the foot of the stairway, Elliot paused.

"Get the dog." he ordered.

Cleo had gone on to explore other rooms. I snapped my fingers, got his attention, and made him follow us up the stairs, where we turned sharply and hurried to Elliot's room. Unlike mine, it was filled with so many things, including posters of his favorite singers and bands and movies. Books and magazines were scattered about. The bed was unmade, and shirts and pants were draped over chairs and even on the floor. Cleo quickly found a pair of socks and seized them in his mouth.

"I don't know why, but he goes for socks all the time," I said. I tried to get the socks. but Cleo twisted and turned to keep out of my reach.

"Forget the dog. Who cares about the socks? Jeez."

Elliot smiled lustily, and then he went to one of his rock band posters and carefully removed it from the wall. Beneath it was a hole in the wall, just as he had described. He put his eye to it and looked, and then he turned to me.

"Not there yet," he said.

"You really don't feel bad doing this?" I asked. "She is your sister."

"What's the big deal? What she doesn't know won't hurt her, and the way she dresses and parades about, she's practically nude most of the time. She gives my father little heart attacks every day. No one ever speaks about it, but he provides her with birth control pills. He just leaves them in her room like someone would leave a mousetrap."

I stood there listening, intrigued with the intimate details of someone else's family life.

"I guess you can figure out what happened," he added with a smirk. I said nothing, and he turned and looked through the hole again. Then he stood back slowly, smiled, and nodded at "All yours." he said, gesturing at the wall. I didn't move.

"Well, come on. You want to get in and out and not be noticed," he said. "My father comes home in about forty minutes."

Slowly, my heart tripping. I approached th

e wall. I couldn't help feeling like I was accepting an invitation from the devil himself, but the power of my curiosity was so overwhelming. I couldn't hold myself back. I brought my eye to the hole and gazed through it.

This was the first time in my entire life I had seen a teenage girl's bedroom. Since Daddy's death. Mommy had done little to change what had been their bedroom. His things were still in his closet. However, it was never a completely feminine room. My own room, once shared, was now as Noble would have it, and all that had belonged to Celeste was gone. buried.

Betsy's room had pink walls and a canopy bed with a sheer pink netting over it. Her bed was still neatly made, and there were two dolls side by side against the pillows. I didn't know what they were, but they both had long hair and very curvy figures.

Their were posters on her walls, too, one of a rock singer with his shirt off and what looked like a bike chain around his neck. He held a guitar below his waist. If his pants were any tighter, they would have to be considered another layer of skin. I thought. I saw a movement and shifted my gaze to the right where Betsy sat before a mirror at a vanity table. She was completely naked.