I stewed in my anger and pain. The time away was necessary, and it gave me room to grow stronger, but I regret that it tore my mother and me apart. I feel terrible for keeping secrets from her, especially when it’s killing her not to know what hurt me so much. But my mom is such a good person, so I don’t think she could even wrap her head around how vicious my classmates are.
Since I’ve returned, we’ve been awkwardly dancing around the subject while she tries her best to make me happy. Part of that plan consisted of huge shopping sprees and a brand-new wardrobe, courtesy of my stepdad. I still feel a little weird about accepting things from him, but I figure it can only help. If I’m going to take back my dignity, I might as well do it wearing nice clothes.
I find my mom in the kitchen with a spatula in hand, eyes twinkling as she glazes a fresh batch of poi mochi. Alana Hale-Grant is dynamite packed into five feet, five inches of sunshine. She still maintains a dancer’s body even though she’s retired from the sport. She competed at the professional level for most of her career and snagged some of the most prestigious titles at Hawaii’s biggest festivals. But her knees are shot, so now her dancing is confined to the kitchen while she cooks.
My features are a carbon copy of hers, right down to the freckles on our noses. The only difference between us is her taller, slimmer frame and a smile that could finally achieve world peace, given the opportunity.
She passed down her thirst for dancing, but I missed out on her confidence gene. The woman is unapologetically in love with herself, flaws and all. She’s always instilled in me that women should celebrate their unique beauty, regardless of their wrinkles, scars, or body shapes. Her philosophy is wearing what makes you feel good and eating what makes you happy, dessert included. But then again, she can afford to. Her figure is more forgiving. I inherited my father’s build, and I’m a lot curvier for it.
On that note, my stomach rumbles, and the old me is reaching out to grab one of the treats my mom made before I think better of it.
Goals.
I have them this year, and I can’t give my haters any more ammunition to use against me. If I gain back even so much as a pound, every girl at BMA will throw it in my face.
“Hi, honey.” My mom smiles when she sees me, her face lighting up the whole room.
“Hey, Mama.” I smile back, nearly cracking open when she wraps her arms around me and squeezes.
“Have I mentioned how happy I am to have you home?”
“Only like a thousand times.” I close my eyes and force down the emotions threatening to spill out. I missed her so much.
She releases me from the hug and holds me at arm’s length while she studies me. “Are you doing okay? How was the first day back?”
She looks worried, and I want to put her at ease.
“Everything was fine,” I lie. “Most of the students don’t even remember who I am.”
“Well, I want you to tell me if you have any more issues,” she says firmly. “I will march right down there and handle them myself.”
“Okay, Mama.” I laugh. “It’s gonna be fine, though.”
“I made your favorite.” She wiggles the tray of carbs in front of me. “You want one?”
“I’ll take one to go.” I grab one and wrap it in a paper towel, so I don’t upset her, but there’s no way I’m actually eating it. “I have some homework to do before dinner.”
“Homework on the first day?” She frowns. “I was hoping we’d have some girl time before Theo comes home.”
“Rain check for tomorrow?” I plead.
“Of course.” She nods and shoos me toward the door. “Go do your homework so we can enjoy dinner later.”
Outside, I dart across the massive lawn to the pool house and shut the door behind me. I don’t have the energy to move, and the mask I’ve been wearing all day is already beginning to crumble. When I close my eyes and sink against the door, my backpack falls to the floor with a thud. A heavy sigh deflates my lungs, followed by a choked sob. Silent tears streak down my face, refusing to stay inside one second longer. Warring emotions rip through me like shrapnel, eviscerating the composure I fought so