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She stays over when your parents aren't there, and you hear the two of them at night. You never hear Cliff making any noise, which is probably a good thing, since he's your brother and you really don't want to be thinking about that aspect of his life, but you hear her.

Perfect, blonde, beautiful, utterly fuckable. Torrance. Torrance is in his room, not yours, and you wonder how it got to be like this. You thought maybe, that first day, that she was sticking up for you after the others called you a dyke, but all she cared about was cheerleading. Fucking cheerleading. And then him. You don't get it. Don't understand either of these obsessions. The first is brainless and stupid, and the whole squad knows that you're only there so you can ogle Torrance. The second is because he's your brother, and he's a guy, and you really, really, really didn't want her to be straight, didn't want her to like guys, didn't want her to want anyone except you.

In the mornings it's not as awkward as it could be. Cliff sleeps late, and she's always downstairs nibbling on toast or half a grapefruit or whatever the current fad for a low-fat breakfast is, and even though you usually sleep 'til noon, you set your alarm clock so you'll be in the kitchen at the same time she is.

You talk about cheerleading and school and your plans for summer, and when she talks you listen, and watch her. You wonder how it got to be like this, with her carrying on the sort of conversation with you that she could have with anyone, and your brother still sleeping in the bed they shared last night.