“Explain this, then,” my father demanded. Tearing open the newspaper, he roughly flicked through the pages until stopping on the sports section. “Explain him!” Blinking away tears, I looked down at the page Dad was pointing at and immediately felt my blood run cold. There I was, in full Technicolor, smiling for the stupid photographer, with Johnny’s arm wrapped around my waist, all smiles and blushed cheeks.
