Sunday
It's been 2 days since I kissed Adam. He's called 7 times, and left 5 messages. I ignored all of them. Clare's called on his behalf twice and soon he'll probably get Eli to.
All day Saturday was spent wallowing in self pity, looking through old year books, and Facebook stalking old classmates. I'll probably end up skipping Monday and maybe Tuesday if it comes to that. Which it probably will.
I feel so stupid. Clearly, I misread the signs. Although, the more I think about it, I do kinda remember hearing people make snide comments towards Adam. And that frizzy haired girl, Bianca, called him a tranny last week. So now I'm not just a moron for kissing Adam, I'm also a moron for not seeing that he's a girl.
If this was another girl, not me, and this was Englewood, not Degrassi, I'd probably think it was hilarious that she was the one who got rejected. I would tell everyone. Laugh at her misery with Chad.
Chad. Stupid, sweet Chad. That month and a half we dated was complete hell. I don't comprehend why Madeline was with him for as long as she was. He was a total moron, a bad kisser, and about as comical as cancer. But he was sweet, in that dopey, puppy-dog way. I just kept up the charade long enough to secure my spot at the top of the social ladder. That was necessary at the time.
I used to know, plain and simple, that that was who I was and where I belonged. I was meant for the top and everything that came with it. The drama, the hurt, the stress; I thought I was destined for it. I still did before last week. Clare, Eli and Adam, they're misfits, but at least they like themselves. That's more than I can say. I guess seeing Madeline after I dethroned her should have been a warning. But I didn't want to listen.
Late afternoon Sunday
I decided to take a nap. When I woke up, there were 6 messages on my machine. 4 from Adam, 1 from Clare, and 1 from…my mother.
Seeing her name on the caller I.D. infuriated me. We hadn't spoken since last January and she just calls me up out of the blue? There had to be some major crap going down. I listened to Adam's and Clare's first. They were the norm, so I barely listened. But then there was mom's. I sat down on the couch and braced myself for more of her flakiness.
"You've reached the Embry's residence. Please leave a message after the beep."
I recognized James and my own voices, from when we were 7. That was just like my parents: keep the child-made recording so we seem like a happy family. Such bullshit.
BEEP. "Harper, this is Danielle." Since when was mom 'Danielle' to me? "Because of recent events, I won't be home for Christmas this year. But James will. Sweetie, don't tell daddy, but Jamie's in trouble at school. He's going to, er, rehab. I did not expect this and I'm sure they're lying but I can't deal with it. This book deal is about to go through and, ah, family life is so tiring. I had my assistant put some money in the account for you and some for Jamie. Maybe you could get some new shoes to go with the uniform? I should attend one of those Englewood fundraisers…. Well, ciao. Call me."
Of course mom wouldn't admit to James's problems. Despite the fact he had two strikes against him and had gotten caught by dad on 3 different occasions with empty bottles, mom still insisted her 'Jamie' could do no wrong. She should have seen this coming.
And Englewood? Did she seriously just say I went to Englewood? I can't believe that. I bet she knows where James is going, even if only because he's in trouble. Either she was too busy with her new life to remember or dad was too busy with his to even tell her. It makes me sick.
Looking around the apartment at all of the half unpacked shit, most of which was mom's, I felt suffocated. The walls were closing in. Everywhere I turned there was something else. James's old desk lamp, the coffee cup with the turtle that I made for Father's day in 1st grade, Mom's stupid books… Mom's books. Why were they here? She certainly wasn't.
I jumped off the couch and grabbed a knife from the kitchen. Flipping to the trademark page, I sliced a thin line up the side. Right along the binding. Then the next one. And the next one and the one after that. Pages and pages and pages. It was hard to cut them evenly and every time I made a perfect, straight cut, I felt victorious.
Chapters passed. Soon came the end of the actual book, then the acknowledgements. I wasn't mentioned there; neither were James and Dad. Mom had a new life, full of people who clung to her like the pathetic parasites they were. They were the people she wanted to remember.
Then came the index and that stupid little page stating what font the book was in. Which was Basic Standard, but I didn't need the index to know that. Mom used that for everything because it was the same one Harper Lee used in the first edition of To Kill A Mockingbird. She had a strange obsession with all things Harper Lee, even going as far to name me after her, stemming from her days as a Literature and Creative Writing major. But she couldn't write real books, just stupid self help ones.
Finally, there was no more pages left to cut out. Just the front and back cover, with little bits of thread left over from where I'd ripped off the binding. I was about to go and grab a trash bag when I noticed the picture on the back cover. Pictures, to be exact. It was all of these shots of me and James and Mom and Dad being the happy little family we used to be. The family she couldn't face anymore.
I was just like her; a runner. I ran from the real me, I ran from Englewood, I ran from Adam.
Adam.
I forgot about him. Grabbing my cell phone as I get dressed and run a brush through my impossibly tangled hair, I text Adam.
I'm an idiot. Meet me at the Dot in 20 minutes.
I don't bother to see if he responds because something tells me he will. He's stronger than I'll ever be. But if he doesn't, it matters still. Even if he doesn't have the feelings for me that I almost think I have for him, I want to be friends with him. At least.
