How twelve-year-old Jorie lives through her doctor father's heart attack is the subject of this everyday, first-person account, which is studded with the accustomed bland expressions of feelings. ""I like it when he does that,"" confesses Jorie very early on when her father touches her nose in passing--and, a few pages later, ""Sometimes I think he's a kind of a superman."" Then Dad collapses while on his rounds at the hospital, and after that he's there as a patient for two months, in and out of cardiac care, discouraged and not himself during Jorie's visits. (But ""I guess it's not so bad when you talk about it,"" she observes after a lunch-table conversation at school.) Meanwhile Jorie matches older sister Marcia with a doting boy, and encourages her to accept the job of costume chairman for the junior-senior show; Mom resumes her usual role of piano player for the show when it seems that Dad is improving; and Jorie wins maturity points when she stays with him after a slight setback on the night of the performance. Small adjustments.