Thursday, March 1;
08:21
First period Math was torture.
I stuck myself in a corner at the back and doodled for the better part of the lesson, blatantly ignoring Mrs. Brown. She returned the favour, I suppose, because I had never been picked to answer a question in all my years with her.
The other students ignored me, too. I was fine with that. In fact, I welcomed it.
Dr. Steinbeck was probably correct with THAT diagnosis.
I looked up from my Math book and out the window. It was drizzling. Grimley hadn't had rain in ages. I had missed it.
To live out there, among the trees and rolling hills and sparkling lakes... dancing in the rain...
The bell rang.
*
"You coming to the dance tomorrow?" said Marco, shoving his hands into his pockets.
I let out a long laugh. "Me? Don't be silly."
But then again, it would mean my staying out late and putting off the inevitable: Going home.
I bit my bottom lip, suddenly sombre.
"It'll be fun, Ter. And you NEED fun," Marco pleaded.
"It's a stupid boy-ask-girl thing, Marco. And who in their right mind would ask me out?"
The theme was dumb, too: 'Denim, Baby'. But I appreciated that it was fundraising for a good cause: Protecting endangered species in the Tobin's Bell forests.
But that didn't change the fact that I had leprosy, as far as the entire school population was concerned.
Marco kicked a pebble. "So... I guess I'm not in my right mind, then," he mumbled.
It took me a few seconds to understand.
"Marco, save yourself. You still have some sort of status. Ask somebody else," I said firmly. We were almost home. I could stall until then.
"I don't want someone else. Terra, you're my best friend. Who else am I gonna have fun with?"
I sighed. "OK. If you insist."
"Now was that so hard?"
--------------------------------------
Mom was in the kitchen when I got home. Baking.
The smell nauseated me.
"Hi, honey," she said, her back turned to me. She bent down and opened the oven door.
I was reminded of Hansel and Gretel's witch, and shook the thought out of my mind.
"Hey, Mom," I replied, and turned to go.
I gingerly went upstairs to my room and threw my bag onto the bed.
I waited.
My nightstand shook. I jumped a mile and clutched at my heart.
Someone cleared their throat from right behind me.
I spun around and faced the hulking frame of my father. His eyes were steely.
"Dad," I said weakly, taking a step back.
He came inside and closed the door behind him. I felt my heart beat a million times per second.
"I saw you jump, Terra. What happened?" he said quietly.
I shrugged. "Nothing. Um, a bug. I think. Nothing big," I said in a rush, pulling open my closet door and taking out a tracksuit.
"You're still seeing things, aren't you?"
My head snapped to look at him. "Of course not. That's in the past."
"Do you take me for a fool, Terra?"
I wasn't SCARED of my dad, was I?
So why was my heart pounding so fast? Why was sweat suddenly trickling down my back?
My father slowly stroked the doorknob, eyes averted. "You know what people do to people that see things that aren't there, Terra?" he said evenly, his index finger circling the knob. He looked up at me. "They. Get. Locked. Up." He took a step towards me. "You might want to stop your outbursts. Stop embarrassing your family."
I nodded slowly.
"Good girl." He turned to leave and paused at the door. "One more thing. I know that the Sebastian boy has been sleeping over here every night."
I gasped, blushing from head to toe. "But nothing happ-"
He held up one hand. "Relax. I know you haven't had intercourse. But if you're thinking of it..." he turned to regard me "... think again."
He left, leaving me mortified. Confused. And angry.
Not to mention scared. Fear was a big part of who I was.
But my father was so intimidating. When had he got that way?
"I know you haven't had intercourse"...
How could he say something like that?
It took me a while to realize that my room was unusually quiet today. As if the presence of my father had scared it.
I changed my clothes, and, as I closed my closet door, something caught my eye.
I reached up, above the clothes on the first shelf, and pulled it down.
It was small. Black. And I knew, without a shadow of doubt, what it was.
So that was how he knew Marco and I hadn't done anything with each other.
I felt violated.
I set the bug down on my dressing table and stared at it. The bug that had probably recorded every single conversation I'd had with Marco; every single noise I'd made.
Then, feeling a surge of anger overwhelm me, I crushed it into tiny pieces with my Converse.