“Great,” she says, enthusiasm radiating from her while retrieving a clipboard and a pencil from the desk. “I want you to do a genealogy.”
“A what?”
“A family tree.” She takes the pencil and draws a circle next to a square and connects the two with a line. She writes “Tibby” in the circle and “Simon Parker” in the square, then sets the pencil down. “I want you to draw a short line down from that connecting line and then another line going across at the bottom.”
I pick up the pencil, following her instructions.
“Good. Now, at each end of that last line, draw short lines going down and then circle at the bottom of each. Write your name in the first circle and your sister’s in the second.”
I do as she directs again.
“Here comes the tricky part. We need to add your grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.”
My breathing hastens and heat spreads through me. Panic sets in. I should know this. People know their family. Arissa and Jason know theirs. “But I don’t have any.”
“I’m pretty sure you at least have grandparents.”
“I don’t know them or any other family I might have. My parents don’t have any pictures and they never talked about their families.”
“We’ll do this later, then.” She returns the items to the desk.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, dropping my head. I’m a colossal failure.
“Sara, you have nothing to apologize for.”
“But I should know about my grandparents.”
“Remember when I told Andrew and Rose that your family was different which is why your family experience is different?”
I look back up. “Yes.”
“This is the same thing. I’m sure there are kids who know all about their aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents and there are other kids like you who don’t know.”
“Other kids like me?” My mind wanders back to the first time my father raped me. I shake my head. “No way. Impossible.”
“Maybe not just like you, but they’ve gone through or are going through similar experiences. Would you be interested in meeting some other kids who were abused in a group therapy setting?”
I contemplate quietly for a few minutes. My ever-changing world continues to change at a fast pace and meeting other kids like me would be overwhelming. “No.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Sure.”
“Sara, don’t worry about not knowing your extended family. Blood doesn’t always define family. The Parkers are your biological family and won’t be a part of your life anymore. You get to decide who comprises your family from here on out.”
I press the phone between my ear and shoulder, drying my hands on the kitchen towel while talking to Jason.
“She’s right, you know. You decide who your family is now,” he says.
“But you know your grandparents.”
“And I haven’t seen or talked to them in a year. Does it really matter that you don’t?”
I huff. “Why do you have to be right?”
“I’m more than just a pretty face, Parker.”
I hear his grin through the phone. “Much more,” I say, unable to contain my smile.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Andrew and Rose wait with me outside the gym. I rub my arms briskly against the chill of the fall air.
“Sweetie, do you want us to bring your jacket?” Rose asks.
“I’ll be okay once we get in the car.”
Heavy metal doors clang open and echo in the empty courtyard. Jason exits through the doorway, talking to several teammates, in a gray team t-shirt and black cargo shorts. A duffel strap presses across his torso with the bag behind him.
Jason breaks off from the group and saunters over to join us.
“Great game tonight,” Andrew says.
“Thanks, Andrew.” He pecks me on the cheek, rubbing his hands up and down my arms in response to my shivering. “Where’s your jacket?”
“I forgot it.”
He pulls his bag around to his side, fishing out his warm-up jacket.
“Thanks.” I slip into it.
“We’ll see you at home, sweetie. Have fun at the party,” Rose says as they head for the front parking lot.
The rest of the team is already at Rob’s house when we arrive. The house is packed and Fall Out Boy pours through the speakers. Jason keeps me close as we make our way through the horde of dancing teenagers.
“J!” Rob yells, throwing his arms up in the air when we step into the kitchen.
“Robbie!”
“Sara!” He tugs me into him and wraps his arms around me.
“Hey, Rob.”
He drops one arm and keeps the other around me. “What can I get you to drink?” He waves his free arm in a grand gesture at the