I was nervous Monday when I walked into school. The vice-principal was benignly monitoring the flow of students, and when she saw me, took me over to the side. "Delia, I'm catching the students who ran for student council on their way in so that they know the results of their race before it's announced. I wanted to tell you that your race was the tightest we've ever seen in the twelve years that I've been here, but Carl won by fourteen votes. We counted the ballots three times. You can be proud of the campaign you ran. You did a great job speaking off the cuff."
"Thanks, Ms Lassiter," I said, smiling. "I appreciate knowing the result."
I was deflated as I walked to my locker and stowed my stuff. Sure, it wasn't a life-long dream of mine to be student body president, but I'd hoped. The announcement was made in home room, and it was nice that the students around me gave me their condolences. I think John, when I went to pre-calc, was more disappointed for me than I was.
"I've still got tryouts this afternoon for the drill team," I said, trying to buck him up. "I spent a few hours over at Stephanie's last weekend, polishing the routines. Head up, shoulders down, toes pointed." I grinned. "You know the drill." He grinned back. "The tulips still look great. I'm taking it as a sign that they're not wilted. I hid them on the corner of my desk by the bureau so nobody could give me grief."
The two of us accidentally rolled our eyes in unison and laughed.
I saw Carl at lunch and I went over to congratulate him. "If you'd gone to school here longer, I bet you would have beaten me," he said nicely. "That was a great speech." So that was nice.
All that meant that I was loaded for bear when it was time for tryouts. I wore some little sparkly crystal earrings I'd gotten over the weekend at Claire's in the mall. I'd also gotten little clip-in false hair extensions in a bright purple that looked great in my real hair and freshened my makeup. The group of us went into the gym to perform the first routine and I made sure to keep a smile on my face and performed with enthusiasm. Then we were sent back to the locker room and called out one at a time. I made sure to make eye contact with the judging panel and tried to inject some personality, lifting my hip in one turn for a little flounce and winking at the judges. I'd left my hair loose, as long hair could add movement and life to a performance. Then, in a surprise move, they had us wait after everybody had performed, and brought us out as a group to hear the results. One girl who'd been cut was philosophical.
"I knew that I wasn't going to be as good as people like you," she said to me, "but no harm in trying, right?"
"You're talking to someone who lost an election, so yeah, I agree." That got a smile out of her. "Listen, I heard that the marching band is considering adding a flag team to their performances. That could be fun." She perked up.
"I'll check with the band director."
I had made the team, and took a moment to savor the unfamiliar heady feeling of success. After the girls who had been disappointed had left, the remaining ten of us were each given a lavender t-shirt with a v neck, a Spartan helmet silkscreened on the front, and two white stripes on the elbow-length sleeves, and more paper, including some recommended stretches so that we could do splits and high kicks. The team officers were going to a camp this summer to learn a dance, and we would learn that and another routine over the summer so we could have two to perform when we got back to school. We also had a uniform list, showing pictures of the outfits and what it would all cost. It wasn't too bad. It kind of hurt for me because I wasn't fond of dipping into my earnings, but this was something new and different for me, promised to be fun, and I found that I didn't mind too much. There was enough money in the team bank account to pay forty dollars toward each new member's gear. Some of us had our checkbooks with us and were able to pay then; we had the option of the two installments or in full, and filled out our size sheets. I paid in full.
That done, I went straight to the park, wearing my new t-shirt. My friends were disappointed I hadn't won the election, but happy I'd made the drill team. Our two costumes were lycra dance dresses with short skirts and leotard bottoms, and they were the most expensive items although both were standard items in the catalogs and of course we got a group discount. We had little black elastic jazz shoes with a suede sole and soft heel, strictly for practicing and performing in the gym because the coaches were very protective of the hardwood basketball floor, and heavier, more supportive black dance sneakers for outside. There was a clear raincoat with a hood, pompoms, one silver, one metallic purple, and a pair of black fishnet hose for halftime performances. I ordered two pairs, just to be on the safe side. "There's a meeting next week where we can order our choice of practice gear, if we want. It's a whole team party, a send-off for the seniors, and a welcome for us new people."
Paul deftly plucked the pages from my hand and scanned them. "This is what you guys are going to wear next year? Awesome. I might have to come to some of the games. Congrats, General." And he rolled off.
I got a bite to eat at a nearby sandwich shop, texting John my news, before going to the library early and doing my homework. Then I wheeled my first cart out, happy overall with the events of the day. I looked up when somebody tapped on the metal cart and saw my grandpa. "Hey, Grandpa, what are you doing here?" I asked as I shelved some religious non-fic.
"Your mom said that you were running for student body president and drill team, but you hadn't gone home so she didn't know how you'd done. Why didn't you say something, punkin?" he asked with a frown.
"I expected that after my brother's big win that everybody would be justly pleased for him, then things would go back to normal. And they did, it's just that it is the old normal, which I was hoping I'd be wrong about."
"The old normal?" I slapped the next book on the shelf.
"Yep, the one where everybody's attention is fixed on my brother and his skating. I'd hoped that I'd matter more, but no." I dressed the shelf brusquely. "It's all Starry's show, all the time. And disapproval for me because I decline to act like a tween over a movie star."
"That's not fair, Delia," Grandpa said sternly.
"You know what's not fair? Feeling like I have to continually remind my family that there's another kid in the family. Someone who also has opinions and wants and desires and aspirations. So screw all you people," I said, feeling angry tears form. "I'm only stuck here for one more year, then I'm gone. And I won't tolerate my future being stolen from me. And I know you want to defend your daughter, but she stole from me. When Grandma died, her will specifically said that my brother's account was to be used for skating or an education. Mine was specifically for my education. Your daughter was stealing my future to give to her son for his present. Do you even understand how that feels? Can you even know what it's like to spend years watching and waiting to be asked anything about your brother's big thing but being ignored? To have people want to be your friend because of your brother? To get the last and least of anybody's attention? I couldn't continue with Girl Scouts because it cost money and even before that, I couldn't go on the camping trips because we couldn't afford a sleeping bag or a pack. My brother's costumes cost thousands of dollars apiece, and he's got a bunch of them. The most expensive piece of clothing I own is last year's prom dress, worth a hundred and twenty seven dollars at purchase. He's traveled all over the world. I've never left the country, and I've been on exactly one vacation which I barely remember. He gets almost everything he asks for. I'm not even asked for a wish list for my birthday or Christmas. I don't get the birthday parties. Maybe these things don't seem like a big deal to an adult, but they are significant to me. My life has been one little pile of crap until just recently, until I found some friends who've given me more support in just a few months than I've had from my family in my entire life. Hope. Ambition. And I'm most disappointed in you. I thought you understood my problems, but nope. So why anybody is at all surprised that I didn't say anything about my activities needs to ask themselves why I'd think it would matter to them. My friends urged me to try new things, helped me make the banners, put them up, pass out the candy, helped me campaign. They care about my day, what we're doing in class, what we're going to be doing over the weekend. I don't quite know what to do with all those people in my corner. And there shouldn't be the need for a corner, not in a family." I pulled my cart around to the next set of shelving where I had books to replace. "And if anyone says one more word about what the figure skating association wants from me, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions. Their opinion means nothing to me. I'm not a skater, I'm not under their jurisdiction, they do less than nothing for me, and there will actually be their lip prints on my buttock before I listen to them. I will be friends with my friends." I slammed the book into place and moved on.
It took Grandpa a couple more books to catch up with everything I'd said.
"Delia, I'm going to make sure that you have the money you need for college."
"This is so far beyond college it isn't even funny," I said grimly. "You won't even address the fact that your daughter's a thief and the whole family is pathological. I have waited my whole life for people to ask me something, anything. To be included. Instead, I was just told that I had to sacrifice. I've given up virtually everything. I went from a nice house in Michigan where I could decorate my room the way I wanted, with its own bathroom and a nice yard, to a crappy condo with a room so small I had to give away some of my furniture, no yard, and one full bath for four people. I don't have a lot of nice quality clothes. It didn't matter as much when I was younger because I grew out of things fast enough that it would have been a waste. But now, I have cheap clothes that don't always look as good as I'd like because I haven't been able to afford better. And that matters to girls in high school. And where were you and Grandma, when I was growing up, anyway? Why didn't anybody notice me? I've seen for myself that it doesn't need to be like that. Paul and John are close, their parents require John to have good grades, and he's expected to achieve in college after skating. He does chores around the house. He's held accountable for his actions. Their parents and grandparents make sure that Paul has his share of attention. My guidance counselor is going to help me with the financial aid office of whatever university I attend so that they understand why my parents, who must make a ton of money on paper, have literally nothing to contribute to me. We've already talked about Pell grants, identified scholarships, and discussed student loans. So I already have a really firm plan for how I'm going to be able to afford my education. So all you people can go back to ignoring me. I don't need you." I slammed the last book into place and looked Grandpa dead in the eye for the first time. "And I'm at work. I would prefer to focus on my work when I am here."
I pulled my cart around and stomped back to the workroom. I ducked into the staff bathroom for a few minutes until I stopped shaking, then had to pee. Then it was my turn to empty the carts from the automated book drop and arrange them on the carts, so It was another hour before I had to go back out to the stacks. When I went back out, I saw John in the teen section. He looked up as the door opened, his smile fading when he took a look at my face. I pushed my cart between the end of a bookshelf and the wall and leaned against the wall.
"What happened, Leia?" he asked, putting an arm around my shoulder. "Congrats on making the team, by the way. I knew you could."
"My grandfather showed up earlier. Wanted to know why I hadn't told anybody about the election or tryouts." I snorted. "And I kind of just unloaded on him. I do ok, I can be pleasant, but again it felt like I was being blamed for something, and it's not rational to me to be asked those questions. I kind of lost it." His hand squeezed my shoulder. "I've kind of reached the end of my rope where the family is concerned. I told him that everybody can go back to ignoring me."
"Geeze," John said. "What a day you've had." The inanity made me laugh.
"I've never spoken to him like that." I shook my head. "Well, it doesn't matter as much as it did. I've got my plans." I rested my head on his shoulder for a sec. "Which now includes drill team. The outfits are cute." I stepped away and picked up a book.
"Paul said he feels better about starting high school next year if the girls wear outfits like that," John said, flashing me a grin. He tugged gently on the purple hair. "This looks good."
"I forgot I had it in, frankly," I said, and we started to talk about school. It was getting to the point where we had to be thinking about finals. I felt a whole lot better by the time he left.