“Find me Pigpen,” I say. “He’s the only one that can help me.”
Oz yanks out his phone and Chevy pats Oz’s arm as the two of them head for their bikes. My motorcycle grumbles beneath me and I tear out of the parking lot as if I’m being chased by the flames of hell.
Breanna
MOM WENT TO WORK and so did Dad. Elsie, Zac, Paul and Joshua are off to school. Clara and Liam have been tasked with babysitting me, but like they did when I was younger, they suck at it and I’m sitting on the front porch.
I used to love autumn. The sound of the wind chimes tingling as the northern wind gently pushes through to the south. The way the leaves float to the ground and the constant chirping of crickets.
In essence, fall is the signal of everything dying, but I love how the world seems more vivid then. But today, I don’t enjoy the subtle warmth of the air or the radiance of the leaves. I feel only empty and alone.
I overheard Mom and Dad this morning and Dad mumbled something about how he never thought I’d be a Terror whore. I lower my head as my heart hurts. He believes I’m a whore.
The front door opens and Clara yells, “She’s out here sulking.” Then to me, savoring her power trip, “We didn’t give you permission to leave the house.”
They didn’t. “Why do you hate me?”
I expect myriad answers and excuses, but it’s the silence that surprises me enough to glance over my shoulder.
“I don’t hate you,” she says quietly.
“Yes, you do.”
Clara nibbles on her top lip, then closes the front door as she struts out. “I hate how everything comes easy for you, so sue me for enjoying something being hard for you for once.”
I laugh and then laugh harder when I realize how crazy I sound. “You’re mistaken on the easy.”
She snorts and leans on the porch railing. “You have no idea what hard is. Do you know what it has been like to be your older sister? Everyone’s like Look how smart Breanna is, Why can’t you be more like her? and then there’s my favorite pitied comment of Poor Clara, everything will always be a struggle for the poor dear because she’s stupid.”
I flinch. “You’re not stupid. You’re as smart as I am. In fact, you’re smarter—”
“Save it,” she spits. “Mom and Dad have been giving me the pep talk for years. You know what the world looks like to me? Chaos. My mind tries to merge letters together, it starts to do math problems from two years ago. I can’t focus. Not like you. I’ll never be you.”
For years, this is the same conversation we’ve had. That somehow I’m responsible for her misery and I’m sick and tired of the guilt. “I’d switch brains with you if I could.”
She chokes on a laugh. “Sure you would.”
My throat runs dry and I swallow, but it doesn’t help. “I don’t sleep.”
“What?”
“I don’t sleep. In fact, I don’t remember sleeping. I mean, I do and it’s enough to get by on, but it’s hard to fall asleep, and when I wake up, I can’t go back because my mind starts working on things, but I didn’t want you and Nora to know, so I would lie in bed for hours counting the plastered dots on the ceiling. There are four hundred and thirty-eight over my bed.”
Clara sleeps. It’s one thing she has been able to do. Her forehead wrinkles, but she quickly recovers from her shock. “So there’s one drawback for you.”
There is and there’re so many others. “I’m like you...more than you know. When I’m not working on something, it’s like a painful itch I can’t reach. Sometimes my head hurts when I can’t find the logic in the every day. There’s a throb in the front of my head and it shifts to my temples and then I’ll feel like I need to vomit because I don’t understand how it doesn’t make sense. And if none of that was annoying enough, I would freaking rip off my arms if, for thirty seconds, I could fit in with someone, somewhere.” Like I have with Razor.
I briefly close my eyes as all of the taunts from my past pound me like a wave. “At school. At work. At home. With you. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a part of this stinking family, but all you have ever done is made me out to be the freak show and maybe I am. Maybe I am the weird girl who no one will ever like, but at least my family should love me. At least somewhere in the deep recesses of your soul you should like me.”
A knot forms that cuts off my breathing. My eyes water and I try to blink the tears away, but more appear in the corners.
“Bre...” Clara starts but then stops.
“Home is supposed to be safe. Home is supposed to be the one place you can go and know that the horrible things people say to you won’t be said to you there. It should be that place that forms a protective shield and it’s okay to be quirky and messed up and...and...accepted.”