let me become their shameful burden.” I spat that last word out. “I was living proof of their broken marriage. Of my mother's weakness.”
“It wasn't your fault!” she insisted.
“That never mattered to anyone.” Brenda reached out to brush my hand where it rested on the car. Like she was made of fire, I jerked away. “Like I said, everyone knew about it, even the other kids. It just got worse as I got older. Especially when I entered high school.”
“Why would high school—”
“The man my mother had the affair with was the fucking principal.” Grimacing, I wrenched my hair off my neck and held it in a painful knot. I imagined every single hair tugging at its root, threatening to rip free. “His daughter, she was the same age as me. She hated me the most. I don't really get why—not exactly. Maybe she was just channeling the rage and humiliation of her own mother. Either way, I suffered for it.”
“That's awful!” Brenda gasped. I hadn't noticed her inching closer; a manicured hand suddenly clamped down on my shoulder. Going stiff, I managed not to shove her away. “You did nothing wrong. Someone had to realize a child was being punished for no reason, did no one step in?”
“The town blamed my mother for the scandal, but they all took it out on me—everyone but Sean.” My mind's eye flickered with my brother's grin. “He was there to step in when I was being bullied. Sean always came to help me.”
No. Not always.
That time everything fell to pieces... when those girls took my guitar and busted it... In Brenda's grip, my fingers twitched—she squeezed back sympathetically. My first guitar had meant so much to me. It had been Sean's hand-me-down, but it had been mine.
And then they broke it.
And then I broke them.
Blood, busted knuckles; my veins raced, reliving the day I'd finally snapped and fought back. The day I had stood up for myself and risked losing everything.
And Sean wasn't there to help at all. Not then. Where was he that day? Why wasn't he around when I—when I...
Her hand tightened. “Your face just went from almost happy to defeated again.”
I debated telling her about how I'd almost gone to juvenile detention, that it had taken a miracle I still didn't understand to convince my parents to keep me out of it. They, of all people, had loved the idea of hiding me away.
No, she doesn't need that part of my past. “This conversation started because you wanted to know why I'd be used to people hating me.” I tugged away from her, hating how sadness bloomed in her eyes. I didn't want anyone else to be sad over this. I was plenty sad enough. “Here's the thing. I'm not used to it, not really. I never magically adjusted to the hate. I just dove down inside myself, made a shell, found things to—to distract me from everything.”
Shivering, I ran a fingertip over the inside of my right arm. I could feel the slightly raised edges of old scars, pretended they were the texture of my tattoo's castle walls.
Brenda moved her eyes down to my ink. She didn't voice her suspicion, but the flash of pity in her face told me she knew. My manager realized I was hinting at how I used to cut myself.
Good, I thought selfishly. Now I don't need to say it out loud. Yes, Brenda. I was that kind of fucked up person. My palm crushed over my right wrist until the skin went white. But not anymore.
Not anymore.
“What changed?” Brenda asked suddenly. Her voice was hushed, as if I was a deer who'd bolt any second. Realizing that she was actually scared of ruining this raw, honest peek into my personality... I blinked. Then I blinked again.
My laughter began as a chuckle, quickly sending me into shakes that made me hug myself to slow them down. Brenda's mouth contorted in shock. Seeing her make such a hilarious face was too much; tears prickled at the corners of my eyes.
“Lola! Are you okay? What's happening here?”
"Sorry, it's just..." Rubbing at my cheeks, I smiled helplessly. “You asked me what changed.” Reaching out, I closed my fingers over her own. “The answer might make you laugh, too.”
She took a slow, deep breath. “I'm ready for some laughter, go ahead.”
The tattoo on my arm flexed when I made a fist. What happened that turned my life around? What saved me from falling further into a pit