You're Not Worthless Page 3

  Lucas looks a little startled at first, like he just found something out for the first time.

  “I thought you knew why people were talking about you...”

  I stare at him for a moment. He hasn't told me because he thought I knew?

  “Well I don’t,” I say. “I don’t know why people are talking about me. I don’t know why only a week into my senior year people had to pick me to torture.” My voice tightens and I can feel that the inside of my nose is beginning to burn: I’m about to cry.

  Lucas immediately jumps up from the floor and sits down next to me on the bed.

  “Please don’t cry.”

  I shake my head and wipe at my eyes before the tears even have a chance to fall. I won’t cry. I’ve made it almost three months without crying since that first day when I found out that people were talking about me. I can make it a few more months.

  “I know why everyone is talking about you...” Lucas confirms. “They’re talking about you because Jazmine thinks that her boyfriend cheated on her... with you...”

  “Derrick?” I ask, shocked. All I can do is stare at Lucas as he nods to confirm what he had just said.

  “Then why is she mad at me?” I ask. “Shouldn’t she be mad at Derrick? He’s the one who ‘cheated on her’ right?” I scrunch up my fingers to add air quotation marks around the term ‘cheated on her’.

  “Jazmine broke up with Derrick when she started to believe that he was cheating on her,” Lucas says. “She’s mad at you because she thought you were nice, until she thought that you wanted to date Derrick, knowing that he already had a girlfriend.”

  In an instant, all of the things people have been saying about me come to mind in a giant blur: all hoes are fake. Don’t trust her. Freak. ​

  “Wait, so Jazmine is the one who made up the rumors?” I ask. “She’s the one who told everyone that Derrick cheated on her with me? She’s the one who’s calling me all of those names?”

  “She thinks you’re fake,” Lucas says, with a sad shrug. “I think that’s why she pushed you today... You weren’t protected by me, she saw the opportunity, and she took it...” Lucas lowers his eyes, and I can tell that he feels guilty about something.

  “I’m sorry that I let you walk away...” He says finally. “I just figured you wanted your space, and then Jazmine came up next to you... It all happened so fast...”

  I rest my hand on Lucas’s shoulder, as a way to comfort him. I don’t want him to feel bad about what happened; it wasn’t his fault.

  “You couldn’t have known that Jazmine was going to do that,” I say. “Besides... Jazmine didn’t need to push me down the stairs to hurt me... She’s already done it...”

  “I’m not just sorry about that,” Lucas says, and for a moment I’m confused.

  “People are talking about you and hurting you, based off of a rumor that isn’t even true,” Lucas says. “They’re just going off of what they heard and not off of what they know. ​​ And they’re targeting you, while Jazmine and Derrick aren’t even facing the same consequences that you are...And I’m sorry that society has to be so unfair...”

  I nod in agreement. Society is unfair. Society is cruel. Society is wrong​ in so many ways.

  “So...” I begin, “Derrick isn’t being talked about?” I ask. “No one is accusing him of being a cheater?”

  Lucas shakes his head, no.

  “So, it’s just me?” I say, immediately infuriated. “Jazmine spreads a ridiculous ​ ​rumor that Derrick and I cheated, but only I get reprimanded? How does that even make sense? How is that even fair?”

  “It’s not.” Lucas says, equally upset. “And I’m sorry that it’s not.”

  I try to take deep breaths so that I don’t punch anything, but I’m not sure how long that’s going to work before I do break something.

  “I know how upset you got earlier, but I still believe what I said,” Lucas begins. “I feel like you should tell someone, Kalani. I know you don’t want to admit it, but ever since these rumors got out, you’ve changed. It’s like you’re a different person. It’s like you’re more sad than usual. It’s like you’re angry at everything.

  It’s like every little thing makes you want to cry or break something. And I think the reason you’re so sad, the reason you’re so angry is because your life was normal before senior year started.

  Then all of a sudden, everything changed. People became cruel. And they became cruel towards you ​​specifically.”

  As Lucas is speaking, I can feel the tears forming inside of my eyelids, and I can feel the inside of my nose beginning to burn again.

  “You’re my best friend, Kalani,” he begins again. “And it’s hard to watch everybody attack you. It’s hard to watch everybody accuse you of something you didn’t do. It’s hard... watching you drown. And it’s even harder knowing that I’m doing everything I can to pull you back to shore, and then realizing that that’s all I can do... I can pull you back to shore, but I can’t pull you back far enough... Before the tide takes you again...”

  I can feel a tear slip down my cheek, but I don’t wipe it away. Instead, I let the tears fall. I let the tears fall, the same way that I’m falling right now.

  “I know that this is going to make you mad,” Lucas says, and he sounds nervous. “But,

  I’m giving you one last chance. Either you tell someone about everything that’s happened... Or I’ll tell someone for you.”

  I’m so upset that I can’t even respond to what he just said. Instead, I sit in silence, as the tears continue to fall from my eyes.

  Lucas sits beside me for a few minutes, before finally standing from where he was sitting on my bed, and leaving without a word. I don’t go after him. I don’t beg for him to stay. I don’t do anything. It’s not because I’m mad at him for what he said; I can’t be mad at him, because at the end of the day, everything he said was true. I am drowning. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay afloat for much longer...

  Four

  Lucas has come by my house to visit me every day after school since I was diagnosed with a concussion. Today is Wednesday. We haven’t spoken about what Lucas said to me on Monday after I fell down the stairs, and if I’m being honest, I’m glad we haven’t. The truth is, I’m not sure how to respond to what Lucas said. I don’t want to admit that he was right-even if he was-but I don’t know how to tell him that, despite what he said, I still don’t know how

  I could possibly tell anybody what happened.

  “How is your head feeling today?” Lucas asks. He crosses my massive bedroom, and hands me a black mug. I take it from him, and wrap my fingers around it. The mug is full of warm hot chocolate.

  “It still hurts a little, but I don’t feel nearly as bad as I did on Monday,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. “Thanks.”

  Lucas smiles, then sits down in the chair by my desk. “Has your mom scheduled a doctor’s appointment for your head?”

  I’m about to answer him when I realize that I don’t know the answer. “Uh... I don’t know,” I say. “She hasn’t said anything about it.”

  Lucas frowns. “That’s weird...”

  “Why is that weird?”

  “I don’t know,” Lucas says. “I guess it just seems like your parents would be a little bit more urgent about the fact that you have a head injury.”

  I stare down at the floor and begin chewing on the inside of my cheek. I guess he’s right. My parents haven’t been at all concerned with the fact that my head is so bad that I have to stay home from school for an entire week, I can’t drive, and my room has to be completely dark for me to be able to function without getting a migraine.

  “If you were to have my mom and dad as parents, you’d understand,” I say. “They don’t care about anything but their work.”

  “Don’t say that,” Lucas says. “You know your parents love you.”

  I shrug, but don’t say anything. I know that Lucas and I have known each other since forever, but sometimes
I feel like I can’t tell him about certain things. Like the way that I’m feeling, or the stuff that goes on when he’s not around... The stuff that he doesn’t see.

  “If they care about me then they have a funny way of showing it,” I say, after a while.

  “What do you mean?” Lucas asks.

  I stare at him for a moment, before returning my gaze to the floor. “I don’t know... It’s just... They haven’t exactly been there for me...”

  “You know that’s not true,” Lucas says, shaking his head. “Your parents do so much for you and your siblings to make sure you have everything.” He gestures to the size of my room for emphasis.

  “Yeah they work hard to make sure I have all of the materialistic things like a car, and a home, and clothes, and food,” I begin. “But they’re never working hard to understand me.

  They never ask me how my day at school was, or how I’m feeling. They never ask to hang out.

  It’s like they’re just giving me a place to stay. It’s like they’re strangers.” I let out a sigh. “Again, not true,” Lucas says. “They love you. They just have to work a lot. And maybe they just always have a lot going on.” He adds.

  “Like what?” I ask. “Enough going on that they can’t even pay attention to their daughter? Enough going on that they can’t even hang out with their kids on the weekends and bond with them? Enough that they can’t even ask me how my life is going?” I shake my head and roll my eyes.

  “I think you’re being a little ungrateful,” Lucas says. “Look at how much they’ve given you: a brand-new car. A freaking mansion for a home. All of the clothes and electronics you could ever need in life. Enough food to feed a small army! You literally have everything any teenager could ever want. What haven’t ​they given you?”

  “You’re not listening,” I say, trying not to sound frustrated. “I’d rather be homeless than have parents that act like they don’t care. They’ve given me everything except​ their love. They’ve given me everything except​ ​their compassion. They don’t care.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” Lucas says.

  “Okay, well it’s easy for you to say, I’ve met your parents,” I say. “They talk to you all the time! You’re always showing me pictures of you and your parents doing something fun together!” I’m almost shouting now.

  “So how could you possibly understand my point of view? You don’t know what it’s like to have parents who don’t care!”

  Lucas stands from where he was sitting at my desk. “I don’t want to talk to you until you’re in a rational mood,” he says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Then, he turns on his heel and leaves. I’m so mad that my skin feels hot. Nobody understands what it’s like to live in this house.

  It’s lonely. It’s like a ghost town.

  * * *

  My mom enters my room about half an hour after Lucas’s departure. She stands in the doorway, and she doesn’t come in any further.

  “I finally scheduled you a doctor’s appointment,” she says. “Tomorrow at eight in the morning. Be ready by then, okay?”

  I nod, and force a smile.

  “Thank you.” I say. My mom doesn’t say anything. She just leaves.

  I’m about to lie down for a nap when I see Caden appear in my doorway.

  “Hey bud,” I say. “What’s up?”

  Caden doesn’t say anything. Instead, he crosses my room and sits down next to me on my bed.

  “I heard you and Lucas fighting,” he says, finally.

  I drop my gaze to the floor, suddenly embarrassed.

  “Did everyone hear us?” I ask.

  Caden shakes his head, no. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Mom and Dad just got home now, so they weren’t even home to hear it. Amelia and Skylar were downstairs in the living room. And Mia doesn’t even live here anymore.”

  I nod, but I don’t say anything. Even if I tried to say something, I’m not sure I could even find the right words to speak.

  “I agree with what you said,” Caden blurts out. I stare at him for a moment, honestly shocked.

  “I think that some people just don’t understand,” Caden says. “Even if they want to understand... They just can’t.”

  I nod my head, though I’m not sure why.

  “Care to elaborate on that thought?” I say, finally.

  Caden takes a deep breath. “People like Lucas,” he begins. “I don’t think that they can understand what it’s like to feel left out, because they’ve never been ​​left out.

  Lucas is an only child. He’s always had a relationship with his parents. So, he doesn’t understand what it’s like for us to feel like we’re left out. He says.

  “And people like Mia... And Amelia... And Skylar... I don’t think that they can understand either...” He adds.

  “What makes you say that?” I ask.

  “I know I’m only ten years old, but I’m not as oblivious to everything as people think I am,” Caden says. “I know that mom and dad consider Mia to be a saint. And I know that dad calls Skylar his ‘Princess’. And I know that mom and dad hang out with Amelia on the weekends-they go apartment hunting together...

  ... And I know that mom and dad didn’t even bat an eye when they found out that you fell down the stairs on Monday. And I know that they haven’t even asked to come watch me play in my soccer tournament coming up next Saturday...”

  I’m not sure what to say. He’s figured it all out. I’ve never spoken ill of my parents in front of Caden, because I’ve never wanted to change his opinion of them. It turns out, he’s figured it out on his own...

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “That mom and dad don’t care about your soccer tournament.”

  Caden drops his stare to the floor. I’m sure he’s angry that they show no interest in his passion to play soccer, but right now he’s trying to play it off cool, like it means nothing to him that they don’t care.

  “Can I​​ come watch your soccer tournament next Saturday?” I ask. “I know I’m not mom and dad, but I would love to watch you play.”

  Caden looks up at me, his eyes beaming with joy. “You wanna come?” He asks.

  “Of course, I wanna come!” I exclaim. “I’ll even drive you down to the field, I’ll watch you play, and then we can go get ice cream afterwards.”

  Caden shoots forward, throwing his arms around me.

  “Thank you, Kalani!” He shouts. He squeezes me tighter, so I squeeze back. When he releases me, I can see that he’s grinning from ear to ear.

  Caden stands from where he was sitting on my bed, and skips out of the room. I feel a little bit better knowing that Caden realizes that while mom and dad may not care all that much, I do. I care.

  * * *

  The room is dark as the doctor flashes a bright light in my eyes. He tells me to follow the light, no matter where he shines it. Up. Down. Left. Right. Diagonal. The light hurts my eyes, and I make it known. I let out a quiet groan.

  The doctor finally turns the small light off, turns the lights on, and leans back in his chair.

  “Well, it’s obvious that light is bothering your eyes, which is a sign of having a concussion,” the doctor says. “Have you been feeling nauseous at all in the past couple of days?

  Any migraines?”

  “Yes,” I say with a small nod. “Pretty much every day since I fell down the stairs.” “And you fell down the stairs on Monday morning?” The doctor asks. I nod.

  “It’s Thursday today, so the nausea and headaches should have somewhat subsided by now,” the doctor says. “You definitely have a strong concussion. How far did you fall down the staircase?”

  “Um,” I begin. “The main staircase starts in the middle of the main hallway on the first floor, and it rises up to the fifth floor, but breaks at each floor, so it’s just one giant, straight staircase with stops in between. It looks cool, but anyways, I was on the fourth floor when I was pu-” I fall silent for a moment, and look at my mom. She’s not even paying attentio
n to what I’m saying.

  “I was on the fourth floor when I tripped. I went unconscious, but my friend told me I didn’t stop until I hit the bottom.”

  “Wow, four flights of stairs,” the doctor says, wincing. “No wonder your head still hurts. I’m going to write you a note, excusing you from class until your head feels better: No nausea, no headaches, and no irritation to light, until you are feeling 100% better, okay?”

  I nod, as the doctor turns to the computer in the corner of the room, and begins typing something on the screen. After a few moments, he stands from his chair, and says, “I’ll be right back.”

  After a few minutes pass, the doctor returns with a piece of paper in his hand. He takes out a pen, places the paper on the desk where the computer is sitting, and scribbles something at the bottom of the page. Then he hands the paper to me, and I can see that it’s my doctor’s note, excusing me from class, with his signature at the bottom.

  “Make sure you rest, and drink plenty of water while you’re at home, okay?” The doctor says. I nod, and give him a small smile.

  My mom takes me home, and then quickly leaves for work. I’m not particularly happy about staying home all day, because I’m home by myself. My sisters and brother are at school right now, and my mom and dad are at work. But I guess, if anybody was to be home, they probably wouldn’t hang out with me anyway. Even when my entire family is home, we still don’t spend time together. I’m not sure why, if I’m being honest.

  Sometimes I try to sit with my parents while they’re watching TV in the living room, but they don’t necessarily try to make conversation with me. And Amelia is always in her room, studying or doing homework. Skylar is usually off doing whatever it is that Skylar does. And Caden is usually in the backyard practicing his kicks and drills for soccer. And Mia doesn’t live with us anymore, so I hardly see her anymore. It’s like I said before: This house, as filled as it is, can be lonely. It’s a ghost town.

  * * *