Ugly, p.19
Ugly, page 19
The dryer started back up. I didn’t understand Mom’s pressing need to make herself look conventionally perfect just for her friends. She was on vacation, for God’s sake.
At the last art club meeting, Ms. Tolliver had asked me if I would consider running for secretary for the next year. The idea was kind of cool. Maybe I’d get to know some of the other kids better. Who knew?
I crossed my hands on my stomach and listened to my breathing some more. I still didn’t want to go.
The blow-dryer stopped again, and I opened my eyes and saw Mom standing in the bathroom doorway. “Did you consider going over there? I hate to think of you alone here all day.”
I didn’t mind too much. I’d brought several books just in case. I could entertain Izzy if she got bored with her tablet.
Izzy was lying on her side facing me, elbow out and with her head propped up on her palm. “Please?”
When I didn’t say anything, Mom continued, “Alyssa and Kayla will be there. You can spend time with them, right? They’re nice.”
They weren’t that nice and she knew that. “I really don’t want to.”
“Honey, I think you should. Izzy wants to go. Sometimes you need to do social things even when you don’t want to. I’m not going to make you go, but I think you should.”
They were both making me feel all guilty. But I knew what she meant. Sometimes it was better to make the effort even though it was uncomfortable. Sam said so, too. “Okay, fine. I’ll go.” Maybe I could practice conversation with some of the outer circle kids.
“Yay!” Izzy said before hugging me awkwardly.
When Mom was ready, we all headed out. Izzy and I took the elevator up to the sixth floor, and I knocked on room 614.
Logan opened the door and instantly said, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
It felt like someone had slapped me, and I instinctively stepped back. Without meaning to, I looked over his shoulder and could see several of the kids—including Alyssa, Kayla, and even Caleb—watching this. Nobody said anything, and before I could come up with something myself, Logan shut the door.
Why had I thought this was a good idea? Why should I force myself into social situations I didn’t want to be in?
“Nic, why did he say that?” Izzy asked in a small voice.
“That was all for me, not you. That’s my life, Izzy. Don’t be like me.”
We went back to our room. Silent all the way.
I knew it was probably an overreaction, but I felt numb and in shock. I fumbled with the key card in the slot and didn’t get the door open until the third try.
Izzy sat on Mom’s bed, and I lay back on the other, listening to my ragged breathing while I fought stupid tears.
Why did it bother me so much? I hated Logan and didn’t even like the rest of them.
“Nic, why are people so mean to you?” Izzy asked. She was obviously upset, from her wobbly voice.
“It’s just how it is. I’m ugly. People don’t like me.”
“You’re not ugly!”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why don’t you wear makeup? You’d be pretty then.”
“Why should I have to wear makeup to be acceptable, Izzy? Don’t you think it’s so messed up that girls have to change their faces and their bodies just to be considered normal?”
“I don’t know.” Izzy sniffed.
“And if you don’t, you’re ugly.”
We didn’t say anything else but she got into bed with me. We lay there for a bit until I could hear her even breathing.
I shouldn’t have brought her into my philosophical quandary. She bought into all the normal crap.
Izzy’s mouth was open as she slept and she looked so cute and innocent. I loved her so much it hurt sometimes.
Back to reality.
I got out my sketchbook and drew a sword, imagining beheading Logan with it.
Which was a little violent, I know, but it’s not like I was going to do anything.
But then it occurred to me that this was my life. No friends. Even kids who were almost obligated to involve me rejected me or were amused by said rejection. This was how it was going to be forever, because I couldn’t imagine how it would change. Obviously, there was something wrong with me. It was more than being ugly. Other people would have been able to come up with something clever to say to Logan, or would have just pushed their way in. Kids would have respected that, and it would have been fine.
Not me. I didn’t have even the most basic social skills. And how was I supposed to get them if no kids would let me spend time with them? I mean, I guess they were things you were supposed to pick up when you were younger. Elementary school had only taught me I was a freak.
I didn’t know what to do. It was hopeless. Without Sam, I didn’t know how I could ever do anything. I couldn’t stop the tears this time. Matching floods running down my cheeks.
The crying lasted longer than it should have, and by the end I was exhausted. So I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face before dozing on the bed.
After a couple hours, I woke. Izzy was watching a movie on her tablet, earbuds in. I didn’t feel any better. My chest hurt from loneliness, I guessed, but I looked over and saw the sketchbook on the nightstand. Maybe drawing would help.
I put my own earbuds in and listened to some classic metal and turned the page from the sword I’d been working on and started drawing a baby dragon emerging from an egg. I made sure he was covered in egg goo, which did make me feel a tiny bit better because it was gross and funny. And when I thought about Logan, I was getting pissed now.
Then the door opened, and Mom came in.
“Oh, hi, honey.” She shut the door. She dropped her phone on the bed. “Did you get bored after all?”
Izzy took her earbuds out and dropped them on the bed. “Mom, Logan was so mean to us!”
“What do you mean?” She looked at me in confusion as Izzy ran into her arms for a hug.
“It was for me, not Izzy.”
“Isabella.” She said it half-heartedly.
“What?” Mom asked.
“They wouldn’t let us in,” I said.
“What do you mean?” She still looked confused.
“Yeah, so Logan opened the door and said, ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ and nobody else said anything even though they all watched him say it. Nobody missed it. And then he shut the door. Not that I was going to go in at that point, but he wouldn’t have let me anyway. So.”
Mom’s face had gone quite white. “Logan said that to you?”
I nodded.
“He did!” Izzy said. “I hate him. He’s such a jerk.”
Mom sat on the bed. “Bridget would die if she knew.”
“Yeah. But it would make it worse if you talked to her.”
She sighed. “I’m so sorry that happened, honey.”
“What are you doing back here, anyway?” I asked.
“I came to get my purse. We’re going to dinner.”
I nodded, dread filling me. God, more time with Satan and his minions.
“I don’t think we’ll go with them,” she finally said. “I can’t stand that boy.”
“Logan?”
“Yes. Did your brother just sit and watch this, too?”
“Yeah.”
She looked off to the side and shook her head. “I’m sorry, honey. I don’t know what has happened to him. He used to be such a sweet boy.”
“I know. I remember.”
She put her fingers against her forehead and closed her eyes. Then she opened them back up and texted someone.
“The four of us will go out alone,” she said. “We’re having a talk.”
Chapter 60
Thursday morning, we met the group at the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Somehow they got us all in one long table. I got stuck at the end with the kids, but Mom was on the other side of me, so they wouldn’t say anything, which was a huge relief, if embarrassing.
Everyone acted like nothing had happened. None of the boys said anything disparaging. The talk Mom had with Caleb last night had been anti-climactic. Caleb said my existence was ruining his social life. Mom reminded him of the times when we used to be friends, including the time I’d more or less saved his life. I’d kept him from suffocating in an old leather trunk once when he’d thought it was a good idea to fold up inside one and have his friend shut the top.
In the end, although he said some of the right words and looked maybe a tiny bit guilty, I knew nothing would change.
I didn’t talk through the whole breakfast, other than saying hi back to Kayla and Alyssa when both greeted me in a super-friendly way—their moms were right there, after all.
The plan was for everyone, including the adults, to go to Six Flags today. Mom had already told me it was fine for me to spend the day with her, and Izzy could hang with Alyssa and Kayla again. The other adults would be annoyed that Mom wasn’t there, but neither of us cared.
After the meal, when the men and Mom were busy settling the bill, Alyssa made a big production of saying, “Nic, we sure hope you’ll hang out with us today.”
It made my cheeks flame—God knows why—but I knew she didn’t mean it. Gina and Susan were watching, and she was only putting on a show.
“No, thanks. I’ll probably just stay with my mom.”
Then Gina loudly whispered to Susan, “Well, if she doesn’t want to try, whose fault is it?”
Something in me snapped. Such subtlety on their part. And I was basically being shamed for other people’s bad behavior.
I looked at Mom, whose eyes were wide. She’d heard, too.
Then I glared at Gina and Susan, whose heads were still together, whispering something more quietly this time. I glanced back at Mom, who shook her head a little, but she couldn’t stop me as I turned my attention back to the gossiping duo.
“Do you know why I don’t want to ‘try’?” My voice got louder as I got to the air quotes.
Gina and Susan both looked at me with wide eyes, stunned into silence.
“Because yesterday when I went to Kayla’s hotel room, Logan opened the door and said, ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’”
Bridget gasped.
I wasn’t done. “Then he slammed the door in my face, but not before enough time had passed for somebody in the room to have said something. But they didn’t. Not a peep.”
“I’m sure they didn’t hear,” Susan protested.
“They heard. He was loud and your perfect progeny were all watching the whole time, waiting for my reaction.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my shaking voice.
“Is that true?” Bridget asked Logan.
“With a mouth like that …” Gina whispered to Susan.
“No,” Logan said. The other kids were all staring at their plates.
Bridget looked to me, her face as horrified as I expected. “I don’t believe you,” she said to Logan.
That’s when I glanced around and noticed some other people in the restaurant were looking at us, and I blushed fiercely again.
“Logan, come with me back to the room,” Bridget said as she got up.
He sat there like he wasn’t going to.
“Logan.” Her voice was more commanding than I’d ever heard.
He got up, and I looked back at Gina and Susan, who were still whispering to each other. They didn’t give a shit, or they still thought it was my fault.
Which was fine. I already knew they were assholes.
By this point, the men had started paying some attention and knew something had happened. Pete looked down the table. “What?”
Bridget said, “Come on. We’re going back to the room.”
“Why?”
“Come on.”
Pete threw some cash on the table and followed them as they left. The other men were looking around, still confused.
I wanted to get up but I didn’t know what would happen now.
After what seemed like an eternity, Mom got up. “Come on, Caleb. You’re coming with us.”
“What’s the plan now?” one of the men asked.
Mom looked at him. “Let’s regroup at ten.”
We were quiet on the way back to the room, but Izzy held my hand. I was afraid I might get in trouble, and I thought she was afraid of the same thing. I’d thrown a huge wrench into the vacation.
Well, it wasn’t exactly my fault, but that was how everybody would see it.
When we got back, Mom told Caleb to sit quietly, so he put his earbuds in and relaxed on her bed.
My nerves were going haywire because I thought for sure I was in trouble. I sat on the bed.
Mom sat next to me. “I can’t believe you did that.” But instead of anger, there was awe in her voice, which totally surprised me.
“Well, I was mad.”
“With good reason. I’m sorry Gina and Susan weren’t more sympathetic. At least Bridget was mad, too.”
“Yeah, but now it’s going to be worse at school. Logan will be an even bigger dick to me.”
“Somehow I think you can take it. You’ve gotten stronger lately.”
I didn’t think she was right about that, but maybe it would become true. Standing up for myself had felt good. I felt lighter, even proud.
Chapter 61
Mom sent Caleb and Izzy—Alyssa and Kayla promised to watch her—off to Six Flags with the rest of the group that day, and she and I went shopping. Obviously, this retail therapy didn’t involve clothes. No, we went to Barnes & Noble first.
As we parked, Mom said, “I can only buy you one book. But we can get a coffee and sit for a while if you want to.”
“Sure.”
I headed over to the sci-fi section while Mom went to the magazines.
I perused the shelves until I found something that looked good by an author I’d heard about but never read.
Mom was sitting with a steaming cup in front of her, reading People or something like that. She smiled when she saw me. “Hi, honey.”
“Found a book.” I held it out for her.
She dug her credit card out of her purse. “Get a drink, too, and we’ll relax for a bit.”
I nodded and went up to buy the book and get a chai tea latte.
We sat there for a while until Mom finished the magazine.
“Honey,” she said.
Her hesitant tone made my chest tighten. “Yeah?”
“Your dad and I have been looking for another psychiatrist for you.”
“Mom,” I said, looking around but observing we were alone. “Is that really necessary?”
“I think it is. You aren’t very happy.”
I shrugged, blushing a little.
“I don’t think it’s your fault. I think you take after your grandmother.”
“Because of her painting?” She was a great watercolor artist. It wasn’t my thing, but she was good.
“She was never like all the other women, you know.”
“Wasn’t she a hippie?”
Mom laughed. “Yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about. She never quite fit in with the ladies. I mean, she tried to, but it didn’t come naturally to her. She didn’t like cooking, never learned to sew, stuff like that. She wasn’t as into church, either. She had an independent and unique streak in her. It was just hard for women to express that in those days. Harder than now. Especially in small-town Arkansas.”
“Huh.” Was I like her? As hard as it was, was it easier for me, now, since there was a concept of a gender spectrum? Would she be like me if she was a kid now? She’d died of a heart attack about seven years ago.
“And she struggled with a bit of depression, too. It was never terrible, but it was usually there.”
I nodded. My phone vibrated right then but I didn’t think I should check it. Mom took the lid off her drink and swirled it. The rich scent of the coffee made the moment seem weird.
“Anyway, I think you may have inherited that tendency.”
“You think I’m depressed?” My phone vibrated again. The only people who ever texted me were Sam and Mom.
“Sometimes I worry. Would you tell me if you felt really bad?”
“I don’t. I just feel sorta bad a lot, never terrible.” Well, except for right after Sam and Zach. But there was a reason for that.
She squeezed my hand. “Promise me you’ll talk to me about it if you ever feel worse than that?”
“Okay.”
Mom finished her drink. “I’ll be back.” She left with the magazine.
I pulled out my phone and read a text from Sam. She’d convinced her mom to pay to fly me to Glasgow for a visit if my parents would let me go.
I was in utter shock. Her mom must not hate me as much as she used to. Maybe because of Zach. She no longer thought I was corrupting Sam to lesbianism.
Mom came back, and I could barely contain my excitement. “Mom!”
“Hmm?”
“Sam says they will pay for me to go there for a visit.”
Mom grimaced. “Honey, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Please?”
She looked at me and my puppy dog face and said, “I’ll talk to Dad.”
“Thank you!” That was easy. He would say yes for sure.
“When did they say?” she asked.
“Spring break.” Three long months away.
Chapter 62
On the Wednesday we went back to school, we got a new assignment in art: a graphic design, our first one ever. We were to design the yearbook cover. Ms. Tolliver explained that this was just a class assignment, and the yearbook committee did the covers, but we should have fun with it.
“Here are some yearbooks from past years,” she said as she began passing around maroon and white books.
The couple she handed my table were both maroon and had an embossed mustang on them. I didn’t think they were very interesting, and this year wouldn’t be any better. Logan had been on the committee since sixth grade, and I knew he’d designed last year’s. I guessed he’d get this one, too.
