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“You were mediocre at best, Casey. Let’s be honest. The team would’ve been fine.”
“You bitch,” he hisses.
We’re interrupted when Julia grabs the microphone and offers her commencement of the event. She must deliver a beautiful speech in support of her cause because everyone is lost in thick applause, but not me and Casey. I’m deadlocked in pure hatred with the man who took my virginity.
I take the opportunity to tell him what I’ve wanted to for five long years. “Know what I did two days after my mother’s funeral?”
Casey’s anger sobers at the mention of my mom’s death. “What?”
“I went to the clinic. The school nurse said I should get checked for pregnancy or an STD because the week you took my virginity, you slept with two other girls. And I’m willing to bet you didn’t wear a condom with them, either.”
Casey doesn’t answer, but the way he hangs his head is confirmation enough.
“A princess, a jock, and a cow. Remember which one I was?”
“It was just a joke,” he mumbles.
I can’t hold back the tears. All I can do is keep my voice steady. “I spent my mother’s funeral thinking aboutyouand how you wrecked me. I never saw myself the same again. What you did traumatized me. I’ve played mental gymnastics every day since battling body dysmorphia. I starved myself for years, and when that wasn’t enough, I put needles in my body to stave off the desire to eat. It almost killed me. But no big deal, because it was a joke, right?”
A piano sounds. It’s a clean melody, the intro to “Hallelujah.” Instead of jumping into the verse, the prelude repeats, a violin joining in and layering the melody.
“They played this at her funeral,” I say to Casey.
“I’m sorry about your mom.”
“You want to know what you did? You broke me when I couldn’t afford to break. You marked me.You damaged me?—”
I stop when a familiar voice rings through the microphone. It’s enough to command my attention to the stage. I barely have time to register that it’s Nathan playing the piano. I’ve never heard him play before, but the magic in his fingertips is swallowed up into obscurity when my little sister sings from her soul, looking like an angel with the spotlight casting a bright halo over her.
For once, I don’t panic. I don’t rush to do damage control. Paralyzed in place by this dress that’s squeezing the life out of me, and the confrontation with Casey that has no resolution.
This isn’t about revenge, or retribution. It’s a realization that I’m stuck. I’ve been stuck.
I watch my baby sister on stage, but she’s not a baby anymore. Not remotely close. The chubby cheeks and wispy pigtails are things of the past. She looks like a woman, commanding the stage without an ounce of shyness. She looks happy as she dances over the vocals like music was created for her and her alone.
I tried to hide her. I attempted to instill the fear that lives in me. Fear of rejection. Fear of humiliation. I want to shield her from all the pain that kept me from living my own life. I tried to teach her to fear the stage because what if they laugh? What if they can’t see she’s worthy? What if she leaps, thinking she’s a princess, only to find out she’s the cow?
How could I do that to her?
And how is it possible that my eleven-year-old sister is so fiercely brave, she didn’t buy into my bullshit for one minute? She’s a diamond on stage, blinding us all with her radiance.
The song ends. The audience roars in applause. Filled with pride, I want to clap along, but the room rotates faster and I can’tseem to put my hands together. My vision is so blurry I can’t evenfindmy hands. Air, I need air. Why won’t my lungs work?
Casey garbles out something, but it sounds like he’s underwater. I can’t ask him what he said because I feel like if I open my mouth, if Icouldopen my mouth, I might vomit.
Sweat drips from my forehead and melds with my tears.
The performance is over, yet the lights seem to dim even further.
Nathan is pushing through the crowd, everything around him going darker and darker but I see his gaze fixed in my direction. He’s moving faster than my mind can comprehend. He glitches like a movie that’s not buffering properly. Ten paces away, then two, back to five.
My hands reach out finally to grasp at anything as I fall to the ground. Faintly, there is the sharp tear of fabric, then silence, then blackness.
Then, peace.
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Nathan