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Chapter no 9

The Way I Used to Be

THE SUMMER TOOKย FOREVERย to get here and now itโ€™s here and itโ€™s just flying. Mostly, Iโ€™ve spent the days thinking a lot about what Mara said to me. About how I was hiding. How I could be beautiful if I would just stop. Mostly, Iโ€™ve spent the whole summer trying to figure how you go about not hiding when thatโ€™s all youโ€™ve ever done your entire life. Caelin wasnโ€™t around. He was taking some kind of special summer sessions. It was actually better that way anyway. Because it meant Kevin would stay away too.

โ€œMom?โ€ I use my I-want-something-and-Iโ€™m-such-a-good-girl-so-please-hear-me-out voice. โ€œI was wonderingย .ย .ย .โ€

โ€œMm-hmm?โ€ she murmurs, barely caffeinated, not lifting her eyes from the sales ads.

โ€œWhat do you want and how much does it cost?โ€ Dad interferes, trying to hijack the conversation.

โ€œWhat, what do you need?โ€ she asks, finally looking across the kitchen table at me.

I slowly remove my glasses.

โ€œDonโ€™t you think I look better without my glasses, Mom?โ€

โ€œYou look pretty no matter what.โ€ Sheโ€™d already gone back to the paper. Obviously that approach was not going to work.

โ€œOkay, so schoolโ€™s starting in what, like, three weeks or something, and I was thinkingโ€”I mean, wellโ€”Mara got contacts and she thinksโ€”I mean, I thinkโ€”I think thatโ€”โ€

โ€œAll right, Minnie, come on, just spit it out.โ€ Dad makes this rolling, speed-it-up gesture with his un-coffee-cupped hand.

โ€œOkay. So, um, I was wondering if I could get contacts too?โ€

Mom and Dad share a look, like,ย Oh God, why canโ€™t she just leave us alone?

โ€œTheyโ€™re really not that much more expensive,โ€ I try.

โ€œI donโ€™t know, Edy,โ€ Mom says, nose scrunched, not wanting to disappoint me, because after all, I really am a very good girl. Except for the small detail about me smoking every single day with Mara, and blowing all the back-to-school money they gave me to buy too many clothes at the mall and makeup and hair products, but not school supplies, like they wanted. Other than that, I really am good.

โ€œBut, please. Please, please, please. I look like such a dork. I look like a loser. I look like Iโ€™m in band!โ€

โ€œYou are in band,โ€ Dad says, grinning, missing the point, of course.

โ€œBut I donโ€™t want to look like Iโ€™m in band.โ€

โ€œOh, well, now I see.โ€ Dad rolls his eyes. Mom smirks. He shakes his head in that condescending way he always does whenever he thinks someone is an idiot.

โ€œMom?โ€

Her stock response to any and everything: โ€œWeโ€™ll see.โ€

โ€œSo no?โ€ I clarify.

โ€œNo, I said weโ€™ll see,โ€ she repeats sternly.

โ€œYeah, but that means no, right? This is so unfair! Caelin can get all kinds of new stuff and I ask for one thing, one thing, and you say no!โ€

โ€œCaelin got new stuff when he left for college,โ€ Dad says, as if Caelin went off to go cure leprosy. โ€œHe needed all those things. You donโ€™t need contacts. You want them, you donโ€™t need them.โ€

โ€œI do need them!โ€ I can feel the tears beginning to simmer behind my eyes. โ€œAnd just so you know,โ€ I continue, my voice falling in on itself, โ€œIโ€™m not wearing my glasses anymore even if you donโ€™t get me contacts!โ€ I throw my glasses onto the table and then I stomp off to my room.

โ€œOh, for Christโ€™s sake, she has to start first thing in the morning?โ€ I hear Mom say just before I slam my bedroom door shut.

And I hear fragments of Dadโ€™s response: โ€œJesusย .ย .ย . melodramaticย .ย .ย . girlย .ย .ย . spoiled rotten.โ€

Spoiled? Iโ€™m spoiled? I never ask for a thing! I never even ask for attention. Thatโ€™s it. The last goddamn straw. I fling my door open and march back out there, bracing myself with both hands against the kitchen table. I open my mouth, not caring what comes out, for once not having a plan.

โ€œI hate you both!โ€ I growl through my teeth. โ€œSorry, but Iโ€™m not Caelin! Sorry Iโ€™m not Kevin! Sorry youโ€™re stuck here all alone with me. But Iโ€™m stuck here with you too!โ€ The words just tumble out one after the other, louder and louder.

They are stunned. Theyโ€™re shocked. I had never so much as looked at them the wrong way.

Mom slams the paper down onto the table, speechless.

โ€œDonโ€™t you dare talk to your mother and me that way ever again!โ€ Dad stands up, pointing his finger in my face. โ€œDo you understand? Go to your room!โ€

โ€œNo!โ€ The word claws its way up my throat. My vocal cords ache immediately, never having achieved this volume before.

โ€œNow!โ€ he demands, taking a step.

I stomp away, my feet like bricks. I slam my bedroom door again as hard as I can, then press my ear against it. My chest heaves with frantic breaths as I listen.

โ€œAll right, Conner,โ€ I hear Mom say, her voice low, trying to whisper. โ€œWe have got to do somethingโ€”this is crazy. What are we supposed to do?โ€

โ€œItโ€™s hormones, Vanessa. Sheโ€™s a teenager. Theyโ€™re all the same. We were like this too when we were her age,โ€ he says, trying to calm her down.

โ€œI never would have said โ€˜I hate youโ€™ to my parents,โ€ she argues.

โ€œYes, you would have. And Iโ€™m sure you did. And so did I. And so did Caelin, if you remember. They never mean it.โ€

Except maybe I do mean it. A little, at least. Because I let them push me around just like I let everyone push me around. I let them make me into a person who doesnโ€™t know when to speak the hell up, a person who gives up control over her life, over her body, over everything. I do what they tell me to do, what everyone tells me to do. Why didnโ€™t they ever teach me to stand up for myself?

Even though they donโ€™t know what happened, what he did to me, they helped to create the situation. In a way, they allowed it. They let it happen by allowing him to be here and making me believe that everyone else in the entire world knows whatโ€™s good for me better than I do. If I hate them, I hate them for that. And I hate Caelin, too. Except I hate him because his loyalties are with Kevin, not me. I know that. Everyone does. Especially Kevin.

And what about Mara? Why couldnโ€™t she be the kind of friend who would just get it out of me? Why do I feel like after all this time I still canโ€™t tell her, that even she wouldnโ€™t believe me, or that if she did, that she would somehow blame me? Why do I feel so completely alone when Iโ€™m with her sometimes? Why do I feel like, sometimes, I have no one in the entire world who knows me in even the slightest, most insignificant way?

Why do I feel likeโ€”God, it makes me sick to admitโ€”that sometimes I feel like the only person in the world who knows meโ€”really, really knows meโ€”is Kevin? Thatโ€™s sick. Demented sick. Like, I-should-be-locked-up sick. But heโ€™s the only one who knows the truth. Not only the truth about what happened, but the truth about me, about who I really am, what Iโ€™m really made of. And that gives him tyranny over everything in this world.

Most of that hate, though, I save for me. No matter what anyone else did or didnโ€™t do, it was ultimately me who gave them permission. Iโ€™m the one whoโ€™s lying. The coward too afraid to just stop pretending.

This is bigger than contacts. Itโ€™s not over the clarinet, Environmental Club, FBLA, French Club, Lunch-Break Book Club, Science Club, yearbook, or any of the other things I had checked off the list in my head, things in which I was no longer going to participate. Itโ€™s over my life, my identity, my sanityโ€”these are the things at stake.

When I come out of my bedroom later that night, I force myself not to apologize to them. Because I desperately want to, want their approvalโ€”crave it. But I have to start standing up for myself. And it has to start with them, because it was with them that it began.

The next week I have my contacts. It is my first small victory in the battle over control of my life. No more Mousegirl. No more charades. No more baby games.

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