God help the girl with an adolescent brother. Mine was an omnipresent snoop, like an inescapable eye in the sky.

Desperate for my own private place to hole up and write or read or draw unobserved, I made myself a private study in my bedroom closet. One day, I heard a scuttling noise, like a rat in the wall between the front-hall closet and mine. When I went to investigate, I found my brother innocently reading a magazine on the living-room couch. It wasn’t until later that I discovered the holes he’d drilled through the wall so that he could spy on me.