Excerpt from In Her Shoes by Jennifer Weiner, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Oh, no," Maggie whispered, as the puppy started to whine. "Are they fighting? Is it our fault?"

"Shh," said Rose. She gathered the puppy into her arms. Maggie's thumb crept into her mouth as she leaned against her sister, and they listened to their mother's screams, now punctuated with the sound of things being thrown and things breaking, and their father's murmur, which seemed to consist of a single word: Please.

"How long did we have Honey Bun?" asked Maggie. Rose twisted in the armchair and struggled to remember.

"A day, I think," she said. It was coming back to her now. The next morning, she'd gotten up early to walk the dog. The hallway was dark; their parents' bedroom door was closed. Their father was sitting at the kitchen table alone.

"Your mother's resting," he said. "Can you take care of the dog? Can you get breakfast for yourself and Maggie?"

"Sure," said Rose. She gave her father a long look. "Is Mom...is she okay?"

Her father sighed, and restacked the newspaper. "She's just tired, Rose. She's resting. Try to keep quiet, and let her rest. Take care of your sister."

"I will," Rose promised. When she came home from school that afternoon, the dog was gone. Her parents' bedroom door was still closed. And here she was, twenty-two years later, still keeping that promise, still taking care of her sister.

"It was really good fudge, wasn't it?" asked Maggie. In the dark, she sounded like her six-year-old self -- happy and hopeful, a merry little girl who wanted to believe everything her mother told her.

"It was delicious," said Rose. "Good night, Maggie," she said, in a tone she hoped would make it clear that she wasn't interested in any more discussion.


When Jim Danvers opened his eyes the next morning, he was alone in the bed. He stretched, scratched himself, then got to his feet, wrapped a towel around his waist, and went in search of Rose, and the bathroom.

The bathroom door was locked, and he could hear water running behind it. He knocked gently, sweetly, seductively, even, imagining Rose in the shower, Rose's skin flushed and steamy, Rose's bare chest beaded with water...

The door swung open, and a girl who was not Rose stalked out.

"Hlgho," said Jim, struggling for some combination of "hello" and "who are you?"

The strange girl was slender, with long reddish-brown hair piled on top of her head, a delicate heart-shaped face, and full pink lips. She had painted toenails, tanned legs that stretched toward her chin, and hard nipples (he -couldn't help but notice) poking against the threadbare front of her T-shirt. She scowled at him sleepily. "Was that even English?" she asked. Her eyes were wide and brown and rimmed with layers of liner and sleep-smeared mascara -- hard, watchful eyes, the color of Rose's eyes, but somehow very different.

Jim tried it again. "Hello," he said. "Is, um, Rose around?"

The strange girl cocked her thumb toward the kitchen. "In there," she said. She leaned against the wall. Jim became aware that a towel was all he was wearing. The girl cocked one leg behind her, resting her foot flat against the wall, and eyed him slowly, up and down.

"You're Rose's roommate?" he guessed, unable to remember whether Rose had mentioned a roommate.

The girl shook her head, just as Rose rounded the corner, fully clothed, shoes and lipstick on, with two cups of coffee in her hand.

"Oh!" she said, and stopped so quickly that coffee sloshed backward, splashing her wrists and the front of her blouse. "Oh. You guys have met?"

Mutely, Jim shook his head. The girl said nothing...just kept staring at him with a small, sphinxlike grin.

"Maggie, this is Jim," Rose said. "Jim, this is Maggie Feller. My sister."

Copyright © 2002 by Jennifer Weiner.