December, 1985

"Almost ready?" Michael said, coming into Lindsay's room as she did her hair and makeup for school.

"Almost," she said, not taking her eyes from the mirror of her vanity as she carefully applied electric blue mascara. "Hey, do you think you could help me with my English essay tonight?"

"When you say help, do you mean edit it or write it for you?"

"Um…I was thinking more on the write-it-for me side—"

"No."

"Michael—"

"No! I don't have time to do all your homework for you!"

"Please, I really need to bring up my grade in this class," she pleaded. He hesitated. She knew she'd chosen the right tactic, as Michael seemed to care more about her grades than she did.

"Look, I'll edit it for you, but you're writing it yourself," he said.

"Fine," she sighed, trying not to smile. Michael had 'edited' her essays before, which basically meant she gave him a few half-baked ideas and he came up with a topic and outline for her and then edited what she wrote so heavily that it was pretty much his essay. She'd asked him to write it for her so he would think he'd won when he agreed to help, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity to show off.

"Okay, we'd better go," he said.

"One second," she said as she sprayed on Liz Claiborne perfume.

"Come on, we're going to be late."

"We're not going to be late," she sighed, tousling her hair with her fingers one last time and inspecting the results in the mirror. "Okay, done." She got up and grabbed her backpack from the bed.

"Good, let's go," he said impatiently.

"Jeez, we're only…three minutes late," she said, glancing at her alarm clock as she followed him out of the room. The door to their parents' room opened and their mother came into the hallway.

"Oh, Lindsay, before you go," Lucille said. Michael groaned impatiently. "Early birthday present," she said, handing her a check.

"Oh, thanks!" Lindsay said, eagerly taking the check. Her eyes widened when she saw the amount. "Oh my god, three thousand dollars!" she said in disbelief. Then she saw the rest of it. "'A new nosey?'" she read.

"It's for plastic surgery," Lucille explained. "It's about time we did something about that nose of yours."

It felt like she'd been slapped. Her mother had always criticized her appearance, but she'd never done something like this. She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment as she scrambled to find something to say.

"Jesus, Mom!" Michael said angrily. Lindsay felt a rush of gratitude for him.

"What?" Lucille said. "She looks like a can opener!"

"No, she doesn't! You've got to stop saying stuff like this!"

"Yeah, what kind of mother are you?!" Lindsay said, finally finding the words, though she was still stinging from the can opener comment. Lucille turned to her.

"So you don't want it?" she said, surprised.

"No, I don't want it!" Lindsay said angrily, giving the check back to her. "How can you treat me this way?"

"Good grief, I was only trying to help you. You should be thanking me!"

"Thanking you?!" Lindsay repeated incredulously, the pitch of her voice rising.

"Come on, Lindsay, let's go," Michael said, touching her arm.

"Right behind you," she said, glaring at her mother as she turned and stormed down the stairs, Michael following behind her. I hate her, I hate her, she thought, tears of anger welling up in her eyes. She knew she shouldn't think that, that you weren't supposed to hate your own mother, but what had she ever done to deserve her love? She was so sick of the constant reminders that she wasn't pretty enough, that she was fat, that her nose was too big, reminders that were so much worse because they came from her own mother.

"Sorry about that, Linds," Michael said when they were outside. The sky was pale gray and the air smelled like rain. "Try not to let her get to you."

"I'm not," Lindsay said stiffly, looking down at the driveway, which was beginning to be speckled with raindrops.

"Good," he said, though he didn't seem entirely convinced. "Your nose is fine by the way," he added. "She's just looking for something to criticize."

"Thanks," she said quietly. She knew it wasn't true, but she loved him for saying it.

"Okay, we'd better hurry, we're really late now," he said, getting into the car.

"We'll be fine," she sighed exasperatedly, but she smiled as she did. It was hard to be annoyed at him right now.