Like, stupid happy, I mean. By Thursday afternoon—five days later — I knew I’d remember this week for the rest of my life. It was like the goal I’d accidentally kicked in at my very first soccer game when I was four-and-a-half. It was like the day I realized I had hips. It was—in a weird way—like the moment I knew Nick was going to kiss Carly. It was a turning point in my life. I didn’t know why my life was turning or where it was going, but that didn’t matter. It felt good just hitting the gas. The camera guy had just told me to slip the microphone cord up under my T-shirt and clip the mike to my collar. Frank was making rude remarks about how that Mike was a lucky guy. Dolores was telling him old farts should keep their mouths shut when it comes to stuff like that. I was laughing. I adjusted the tiny black mike and wondered if it would pick up the buzz I had running through me. It wasn’t the TV interview winding me up, despite the big deal Dolores was making out of it.
What do You think about Betsy Wickwire's Dirty Secret?
