Yours Truly, Ramona

chapter twenty four | lovely.

On Wednesday, I went to the doctor to get my ribs checked again.

Owen can't be my doctor anymore, due to the fact that he's now my legal guardian and it's illegal for him to treat family members.

The new doctor told me I don't have to keep a bandage on my ribs during the day anymore, which I really appreciate. My ribs still hurt a little bit, however it's not as bad as it was before.

Supposedly, my body should be back to normal in about three weeks. Three weeks until I move foster homes. Again.

"I'll see ya around, Luis."

I roll my eyes at that stupid Keelia girl—the girl that keeps hitting on my best friend even though he's very, very, gay.

"She's annoying," I say in an attempt to start a conversation with Luis.

He just kind of looks at me, giving me the same hurt, puppy dog look he's been giving me since I came back on Monday.

"Okay," I say, putting down my paintbrush. "What the hell is your problem?"

"There is no problem."

I look around the stagecraft lab, trying to think of something smart to say. In the end, my mind draws a blank so I just continue with a serious tone.

"You've been acting pissy and hurt all week. What did I do to you?"

He looks down at his paintbrush, clearly contemplating whether or not he wants to speak up about whatever's on his mind.

Our conversation gets easily lost amidst the bustling stagecraft lab; it's loud and busy, full of students painting, sawing, and nailing pieces of wood for the upcoming theater show.

"You're a liar," he says after a moment of silence. "You're a fucking liar."

I freeze in my seat, my mind surprised that those harsh words actually came out of his sweet mouth.

"What—what did I do?" I ask helplessly.

"I'm not stupid, Ramona. I know you weren't in the hospital for dehydration," he begins, throwing his paintbrush down and leaning in to stare at me with his cold, brown eyes.

"Not only that, but every time I ask you anything about your past you just ignore me and refuse to answer. It's shady as hell and I'm tired of being blown off."

I push away the board that I was painting, leaning across the table to get in his face as his words deliver an angry blow to my heart.

"Well maybe that's because my past is none of your damn business!"

"It is when you're always acting spaced out and depressed! You have plenty of people that want to help you but you keep acting like a bitch and push everyone away."

I back down from the argument and grip the sides of the lab counter, steadying myself as I take deep breaths.

My skin is heating up, my anger simmering just below the surface, waiting eagerly to blow up.

Control it, I think to myself over and over.

I know Luis is a naturally curious person and he always wants to know everything about everyone, but I can't tell him this.

Not a single soul knows about the things that have happened in my foster homes and with my parents.

Jean may know about the drug abuse, but she has no idea about the other kinds of abuse.

About not being able to eat when my parents chose buying drugs over buying dinner. About sleeping in the bathroom because it was the only door in the house with a lock on it. About the names they would call me and how hard they would hit me whenever I made a mistake.