Dispatches from a Teenage Girl

Chapter 30

I wake up the next morning feeling a bit lighter, definitely the lightest I have felt since that conversation with Sam at Covert.

I can hear my mom making coffee. I head downstairs to join her. It's been awhile since we've acted normal around each other and maybe today might be the start of something.

She looks up at me when I walk into the kitchen and she immediately hands me the mug she's just poured.

"Thanks," I say and instead of taking it back to my room, I sit at the kitchen counter.

"It was nice to see Claire and Grace last night," she starts. "I missed them."

"I missed them too," I say with a smile.

"Any big plans for the day?" she asks me.

I look at her. She's joking, right? I am still totally grounded.

"I know, I know. You're grounded. And you are still grounded," she makes sure to tell me. "But I know you're not a bad kid. But it was getting out of control Lucy."

"I know."

"The lying, the sneaking, I just didn't know where you were or what you were doing or who you were with. I don't think you were making great choices."

I nod. She's right.

"I am glad Grace and Claire are back in the picture. They're good people."

I nod again. She's right again.

"I guess I'll do homework today?"

"That's the spirit!"

Sigh. I grab my coffee and head up to my room. I do have some writing to do. Our rogue Green Star Girl edition has me inspired. Grounded and forgiven and dumped. A lot of emotions. And a lot to say.

When it all hits you at once

People say that you will always look back at your high school years. This is the time of your life.

But it's only four years. Four short years. That's not a lot of time.

I find myself at an intersection of so many teenage life altering moments, spilling into each other, all at once. Happiness. Sadness. Frustration. Relief.

So friends, let's get real. I got dumped. It stings. It hurts. Physically hurts. My tears have dried up. My anger has subsided, mostly. But the pain, deep down, it's still there.

Was he the one? No.

Would this have lasted past graduation? Probably not.

Was everything perfect? Definitely not.

But it wasn't my choice. I didn't get to decide that it wasn't working. I didn't get to decide whether we were worth fighting for. Someone decided that I wasn't good enough. And that hurt doesn't go away easily.

But I put on a strong face. We all do. No one needs to know.

And now this person I spent so much time with is gone.

And I sit alone. Alone with my thoughts.

How long until I feel better? When does this feeling go away?

Why am I not good enough? Why doesn't he want me? Why wouldn't he fight for me?

The best years of our lives, they said. The memories we'll carry with us forever. No one warns you about the bad memories. I know I will carry this memory with me forever. But I hope it stings a bit less as time goes on.

I read it over. It's a lot. My most personal to date. But it's in line with what I have been saying. It's in line with what I want to be as a writer. And what I want to accomplish. But it is really putting myself out there. My anonymous self. But still.

I paste it into an email, ready to send to the editor. But add a little note on top.

What do you think? Too much? Please sanity check this for me. I am not sure.

And I send.

I sit in front of my computer and open up my binders and start looking through all of the homework I have to do. English. Math. Biology. Chemistry. So so much.

And then my phone buzzes.

I like it. Did you want to talk about it before I publish?

Talk about it? What? We've never talked before.

Talk about it? How exactly?

And I wait for a reply. I open up my math textbook and try to get myself in the headspace to do some calculus.

Maybe in person. Are you able to meet up this weekend?

In person? This weekend? Well this is a lot. First of all, I am grounded. So that's a no. But meet the editor? In real life?

I really like texting him. He knows everything about me. He is the only one who knows my secret. But who is he? Do I already know him? Have I spoken with him before?

I'm grounded.

He replies. Oh.

I respond. But do you want to meet up at lunch on Monday?

Yes.

He wrote back so fast. Yes. Oh god. What have I gotten myself into?