She smiled. “No, you’re not. No one thinks that. You’re too pretty to be a vampire.”
“Pretty?” I glanced at myself in the mirror. I didn’t feel especially pretty today. I thought my face was pale, my eyes dull and dim, and my hair unkempt. If anything, I looked more like some homeless girl wondering what in the world had happened that she should find herself so lost and alone.
“That’s a nice color on you, too, turquoise. Remember? I made my mother buy me the same blouse, but it didn’t look as good on me as it does on you.”
“It will,” I said. “You’re going to have a nice figure, Allison.” As hard as it was for me to say it, I added, “As nice as your mother’s.” What was true was true. Julie was physically a
ttractive. If she could only be kept under glass like some wax figure, I thought, and not bother or hurt anyone else.
Allison smiled again. “Okay, see you when you come home for the holidays.” She started to turn to leave.
“We don’t get holidays,” I said.
“Really?”
“I don’t know. Things are very different there. I’ll let you know.”
“Will you? Really? I mean, let me know and not my mother first?”
“She’ll know, even though the moment I leave, she’ll have a moat built.”
“A what?”
“Forget it. Like I said last night, I’ll send you an e-mail or text you.”
“I know you said it, but will you really?”
“You sure you want me to do it, Allison? You know you’ll have to keep it secret from you-know-whom.”
“I’m sure. Please, send me e-mails. My mother doesn’t know how to use a computer.”
I stared at her with a hard look to emphasize it. She knew why.
“I’ll keep this secret. I swear,” she said in a deep whisper, with her hand over her heart, and then turned and went to the door, checking first to be sure her mother didn’t know she had come in to see me. She looked back, smiled, and then hurried away.
I put the pen into my bag.
My father’s wife was in her glory, my father was in a deep depression, and my stepsister was terrified of breathing the same air I breathed.
How would I go about explaining all of this to anyone if I had trouble explaining how it all happened to myself? I thought I should write it down so I could study it all exactly the way I would study a math problem or a science theory—pause, step back, and analyze. Maybe if I did a full, intelligent, and objective review, I would have an easier time living with myself, not that it was ever easy to be who I was or who I was going to be.
Was I cursed at birth or blessed?
I suppose the best way to answer such a question is to ask yourself how many people you know your age or a little younger or older who would want to trade places with you, would want to have your talents and intelligence, or envied you for your good looks enough to accept all the baggage that came along with it.
Right now, in my case, despite my accolades and awards, people like that would be harder to find than the famous needle in a haystack.
But the thing was that despite it all, I didn’t even want to look. I didn’t want to be validated, complimented, or even respected in any way.
I looked in the mirror again. Allison was right. This was a nice color for me.
I wondered, would anyone where I was going notice and, if they did, even care?
I must have wanted someone to care. I did want to have friends, and I did hope that there was some boy out there about my age who would find me attractive.
Otherwise, why would I have taken so long to choose my clothes, the way a prisoner on death row might contemplate his last meal?