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My Hidden Self

Chapter Three: Ultimatum

Clary POV

I wake up to my mom gently shaking my shoulders, "Clary, wake up it's time for Dinner, we made your favorite."

They made my favorite? That's weird, they normally only make me my favorite when there is something that they need to talk to me about, and they don't think I'm going to love the topic. I glance up. "Give me a few minutes to get down there." I say with a sigh.

I get up, pull on my jacket, and yank my hair into a ponytail, that way it can't get in my face while I'm eating. I brace myself for the worst, knowing that it can't possibly go well. My favorite dinner is a time consuming one, not to mention expensive. I follow the scent of fettuccini with chicken Alfredo to the dining room, slowly walking down the stairs, still dreading the conversation that we will have when I get there, despite my favorite meal being served.

When I finally reach the table in the dining room, I see that mom already put the food out on the table, in addition to the Alfredo; there are breadsticks, green beans with bacon bits, fruit cocktail, cottage cheese, and banana pudding for desert. Whatever they are going to say, it must be really bad if we are eating all of this, I don't even like eating, but I put small portions on my plate to make my mom and Luke happy. I don't call Luke dad or step-dad because I actually like Luke, and I hate my dad, it would be an insult to Luke if I called him dad or step-dad.

We eat the meal in silence, uncomfortable, awkward, silence, with grave expression on both mom and Luke's faces; they seem to be extremely uncomfortable about something, all though I'm not sure what. As I eat, I am very careful. I'm really a rather picky eater. I don't eat my food if it is touching. I have to eat the hot food first, then the cold food, in the order that they are in around the plate. I have to completely finish one part of the meal before I move on to another part, and in between each part I take a drink of water to make sure that I rinse any food left in my mouth down.

When I decide that they aren't planning on actually talking to me about anything I get up to leave. I almost get out of the dining room before I am stopped again.

"Uh… Clary, there is something that we need to talk about." Luke stated. Mom gave him a look before looking at me too. There it is, I think.

"I figured that much out, the only time we ever eat my favorite meal is when you have something bad that you want to tell me… so out with it." I reply. They both seem a little shocked at my outburst, I usually only answer with one word or two when I'm talking to mom and Luke, for Tessa I give actual answers only because if I don't then she will tell my parents that I need to go back to regular school, and for everyone else, I don't even really answer at all.

"I think you should sit back down before we start the conversation, sweetheart." Mom says. I shrug, get another glass of water, and walk into the living room. If they are going to make me sit, I'm going to be comfortable, so I sit and get comfy on the couch.

"Okay, I'm sitting, I'm comfortable, I have water, what is it?" I question them. Again they look shocked at my words but this is getting really annoying, they could've talked to me at dinner, but they chose to put it off until after we all ate, and now they are still putting it off a bit. As I'm thinking that I guess I shiver or something, because my mom comes up and drapes a blanket around my shoulders before sitting on the loveseat with Luke.

"Before we get serious, I just wanted to say that we also make you that meal on your birthday. Clary, it isn't just for serious talks like this." Luke pointed out. There they go again with trying to procrastinate this conversation, it is obviously important or they wouldn't have gone to the lengths that they have to try to get me in a good mood before they tell me.

"Can you guys just tell me what you thought was important enough to try to get me in a good mood before telling me?" I ask, about 99% sure that my annoyance is clear on my face.

"Clary, before we tell you this, we need you to keep an open mind about things." Mom said.

I roll my eyes and look at her so that she would continue, when she doesn't I feel the need to prompt her. "Well, are you going to tell me what all of this fuss is about or not, because right now I'm leaning towards you saying you aren't and then I can just go up to my room and draw, which by the way is really what I want to be doing right now." Drawing. I think about all of the things that it does for me briefly. Drawing calms me down. Drawing helps me sort things out. Drawing helps me clear my mind. Drawing helps me make decisions, and stops me from doing things that I might regret. When I am drawing, I'm in a complete different world as long as I'm focused, and I always want to be in that world- my thoughts are interrupted when my mother starts speaking again.

"Clary, we talked to Tessa." My mother begins

"And?" I ask

"Tessa thinks that you are anti-social" Luke continues

"Okay… But we already knew that. I've been anti-social ever since Valentine." I say. It's true too. Ever since my 'father' started beating me, I had been straying farther and farther away from people, worried about what they would ask, and how I would react when they ask their questions.

Mom answers. "Yes, dear, but…" She hesitates. "Tessa thinks that you have become so anti-social that it is dangerous."

"Dangerous? How could being like this be the thing that is dangerous for me?" I'm on the verge of tears "What's dangerous for me, is being around people. I don't know how I would react if anyone asked me about my scars. What I do know is that once they found out the truth, and if you are going to say that I have to go back to public school they will find out eventually, they will start bullying me, they will start to take away what little happiness I have, then things will get a lot worse, because I'm not sure that my usual, harmless, drawing will be enough then. Drawing is barely containing what I have to deal with now, if we add more too it… I don't know what I will do."

"Clary, it has become dangerous because you now believe that it isn't even safe for you to go to the grocery store. How are you going to survive when you live on your own and have to do your own shopping, and go to work every day? How are you going to get through collage living in a small space with someone else, if you are afraid to even show your arms? Let's talk about another that this is dangerous for you, while we are at it. Clary, it was 92 degrees (F) outside today, and you went to your counseling in a jacket. Do you even have an idea of how dangerous that is? You could've dehydrated, your body could have gotten overheated, and there are so many ways that this is hazardous to your health physically as well as mentally!"

Oh. So now it was Luke's turn to talk? To tell me how dangerous my mental illness is? Does he think that I don't know how dangerous this is? Why does he think I wear thin jackets with only tank tops beneath them? Why does he think that when I go to the store with mom I make sure that we have a list so that we can make sure that we get everything in one go? So we don't forget anything? I mean sure it isn't exactly living… still it is better than the alternative, which happens to be getting stared at and possible questioned everywhere I go! "So what are you trying to say Luke? Because I sure have no idea."

"Clary, what I'm trying to say is that, you have to start being around other people your age, you can't just lock yourself up in your room all the time. The only times that you leave your bedroom now is when you have to come eat, or when your mother and I tell you that we are leaving, and you have to come, or that you have to go somewhere like consoling." Luke now looks very aggravated with me. I don't know why he would be though, has he even stopped to consider how he would feel if he were in my position?

"So… What are you going to force me to do this time?" I ask. When he gets like this I always end up getting forced to do something that I don't want to do. When I look into his eyes, I can see that he is dead serious about whatever it is that he is about to say.

"I'm not forcing you to do anything; your mother and I are giving you a choice."

"What are my options?" I'm dreading the answer, so I quickly try, once again to prepare myself for the worst.

"Well, as you know, you start school back up on Monday, and on the first day of school, every year, you are exempt from you schoolwork that day if you go to a meet and greet on the first day. At the meet and greet there will be other homeschool students in the area, you will be directed to rooms based on age group and neighborhood, so you will get to meet people that are your age and live close to you also." He seems proud of himself for thinking of this by this point. "And I've decided to give you this as a choice because every year you have decided to stay home and do the work instead of going and socializing. If you choose to go to this event, then you should know that you will not be allowed to wear a jacket or a long sleeve shirt. You will also have to make at least one friend in the neighborhood that is your age, and you must go hang out with them at least 5 times after the meet and greet, each of these meeting will have to be at least 3 hours long, and I will be in contact with the other persons parents to make sure that you meet my standards."

Exactly! Why do you think I always stay home, because people will ask me about my scars! I'm probably going to choose the second option, whatever it is, it can't be anything worse than this right?

"What is the second option?" I ask, hesitantly and quietly, but still.

"Your second option is, you will have to go to public school again."

Okay, I had to have heard that wrong. "What?"

"You will have to go back to public school if you choose not to go to the meet and greet on Monday." He repeats

Okay… So I did hear him correctly. Man! That is definitely worse than the first option! "I'm going to need some time to think about it."

"You have until tomorrow to make up your mind." My mom says calmly. Up until that point, I had forgotten that she was here. I can't believe that she would just sit there and let him give me that choice! She knows better than anyone why I don't talk to people!

I sigh in frustration and head up to my room; it sure is going to be a long night. When I get in my room I head straight for my sketchbook and pencils so I can start drawing. I try to draw many things, but I don't really get into the drawing like I normally do when they help me with my life. I try drawing the tree outside my window, the pile of books on my desk, the way my bed is made, the sky outside, it had turned dark, and finally a self-portrait. None of these things help me escape into my special world. Finally, I get to a point where I can't take it anymore, I do something that I swore to myself I would never do, ever. I walk into my ensuite bathroom with shaking hands. I pick up one of my new razors, and slowly drag it across my arm. The first few cuts are deep, but then I start to think about what I'm doing. I'm only giving them more scars to judge me for… With that thought I am able to put the razor down, grab some bandages, and walk back into my bedroom. After I'm done an image comes into my mind. I quickly grab my sketchbook and my pencil and let my hand move itself across the paper, before I know it; I am also grabbing my chalks. When I am finally done I look at the paper and see that I have drawn a boy. The boy looks about my age. He has golden skin, golden hair, and the most interesting golden eyes I have ever seen. Scratch that; the only golden eyes I have ever seen. I wonder why I drew this boy, out of all of the things or people that I could have drawn, why would I draw a stranger that I haven't even so much as seen in the grocery store.

I suddenly feel like I have to go to that meet and greet. I mean, obviously I was going to choose the meet and greet over going back to public school. This is different though I suddenly feel almost like I want to go to the meet and greet. Only one thought is racing across my mind as I lay down to go to sleep. What if I meet someone there that will understand how I feel?