For the first time we.re having a civilized discussion. Now I.ve got to come up with something to
break that defensive wall of hers.
Oh, man. I need to reveal something that makes me vulnerable. If she sees me as vulnerable instead
of an asshole, maybe I can make some headway with her. And somehow I know she.ll be able to tell if
I.m bullshitting.
I.m not sure if I.m doing this for the bet, for the chemistry project, or for me. In fact, I.m totally
cool with not analyzing that part of what.s happening here.
“My dad was murdered in front of me when I was six,” I tell her.
Her eyes go wide. “Really?”
I nod. I don.t like talking about it, not sure I can even if I want to.
Her manicured hands cover her mouth. “I didn.t know that. Oh, God, I.m so sorry. That must have
been horrible.”
“Yep.” It feels good to let it out, to make myself talk about it out loud. My dad.s nervous smile
turning into shock right before he was shot. Wow, I can.t believe I remembered the expression on his
face. Why would his smile be replaced by shock? That detail was totally forgotten until now. I.m still
confused as I turn to Demi. “If I care too much about shit and it.s taken away, I.ll feel like I did the day
my dad died. I never want to feel that way, so instead I make myself care about nothin..”
Her face is full of regret, sorrow, and sympathy. I can tell it.s not an act.
Her brow is still furrowed when she says, “Thanks for, you know, telling me. But I can.t imagine
you can actually make yourself care about nothing. You can.t program yourself like that.”
“Wanna bet?” Suddenly I.m desperate to change the subject. “Your turn to share.”
She looks away. I don.t push her to say anything for fear she.ll come to her senses and want to
leave.
Could it be harder for her to share even a glimpse into her world? My life has been so fucked up,
it.s damn hard to believe her life could possibly be any worse. I watch as a lone tear escapes from her eye
and she quickly wipes it away.
“My sister–,” she starts. “My sister has cerebral palsy. And is mentally delayed. „Retarded. is the
term most people use. She can.t walk, she uses what.s called verbal approximations and nonverbal cues
instead of words because she can.t talk…” With that, another tear escapes. This time she lets it fall
without wiping it away. I have the urge to wipe them for her but sense she needs to be left untouched. She
takes a deep breath. “And she.s been angry about something, but I don.t know what. She started pulling
hair, and yesterday she pulled mine so hard a clump came out. My head was bleeding and my mom was
freaking out on me.”
So that.s where the mysterious patch of baldness came from. Not a drug test.
