You're Not Worthless Page 8

  I don’t care about myself anymore.

  I don’t care about my life anymore.

  * * *

  “Kalani!” I hear my mom calling me. She sounds far away.

  “Yeah?” I call back. I’ve been reading a book at my desk for about an hour.

  My mom appears in my doorway, staring at me. Her hands are behind her back.

  “What’s this?” She asks. She pulls her hands out from behind her back, so I can see what she’s holding.

  It’s the photo shopped picture from a couple of weeks ago. The picture that made me sob in Lucas’s lap. The picture that made me hate society. The picture that made me want to curse the world and every human living in it.

  “Kalani, what. Is. This.” My mom looks mad, but I can’t tell if she’s mad at me. I shake my head, too quickly, and too many times.

  “Where did you even find that?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t matter where I found it!” My mom says, raising her voice. “Answer the question, what is this!?”

  “It’s not real,” I blurt out. A tear slips down my cheek before I have the chance to stop it. “Jazmine photo shopped my head onto a bikini model’s body. Then she printed out a thousand copies and posted them all over school...”

  My mom lets out an exasperated sound. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?!” She screams.

  “Because I was embarrassed Mom!” I yell, as another tear slips down my cheek.

  “I don’t care if you were embarrassed!” My mom shouts. “You just let Jazmine get away with this? Why would you do this?”

  “I didn’t know if anybody would believe me or not!”

  My mom shakes her head and turns away from me. She rubs her forehead with her hand.

  “You said there were more?” She asks. I nod. “What happened to them?”

  “Lucas and I spent the day picking them all up so that nobody could see them. We threw them away so that nobody could make fun of me. That’s the only one I kept.”

  “Kalani, you should have gone straight to the principal with these!” My mom shouts. “Is this the day you ditched class? To pick these all up?”

  I nod, and look down at my lap. I can’t face my mom right now. Not when she’s so upset with me.

  “This is absolutely ridiculous!” My mom says. “I’m going to talk to your principal right now!”

  “Mom, it's winter break!” I call after her, because she’s already racing down the hallway.

  I stand up, and run after her.

  “I don’t care!” My mom yells. “Her phone number is listed on the school website, I’m calling her, and we’re meeting her to discuss this. Get your shoes on.”

  I stop for a moment, surprised. “You’re taking me with you?”

  “Yes! Let’s go!”

  I turn on my heel, and sprint back to my bedroom. I grab my red sneakers from their place by my desk, slip them on, and race back down the hallway. My mom is already waiting for me in the car. Once in the passenger’s seat, I buckle myself in. My mom is already calling the principal on her cell phone.

  “Hi,” my mom says into the phone. “This is Elena Young, Kalani Young’s Mom. I’m calling because we need to talk. And it can’t wait.”

  I can hear someone’s voice through the phone-Mrs. Jones, I assume.

  “Perfect,” my mom says. “I’ll see you there.” She hangs up the phone, and starts the car.

  We speed down the road, neither of us saying a word. All I can do is wait for my mom to take matters into her own hands.

  * * *

  I’ve never seen My school principal; Mrs. Jones look so informal. She’s wearing a pair of blue jeans and a red sweater. But then again, we are on winter break.

  We’re sitting in a cafe near the school; we were going to meet at the school, but it’s closed for winter break. My mom pulls the photo shopped picture of me out of her bag, and places it on the table.

  She slides it forward, so that Mrs. Jones can get a better look at it. She doesn’t say a word.

  My principal stares at the picture for a moment, a confused look on her face.

  “What’s this?” She asks. Her voice is tight, and high pitched, like she’s afraid to hear the answer.

  “Jazmine Davis,” my mom says. “Photo shopped my daughter’s face onto the body of a bikini model.” I can tell that she’s trying to stay composed. She’s trying not to scream.

  “How could you let someone get away with this?” My mom asks. “You know everybody in the entire school saw it?”

  “How do you know that Kalani isn’t lying about this?” Mrs. Jones asks. “Jazmine and Kalani have gotten into two fights this school year. How do we know that Kalani isn’t just trying to get Jazmine into more trouble than she already is?”

  “Why would my daughter lie about something like this?” My mom asks, sitting back in her chair. “Did you know that Jazmine also pushed Kalani down the stairs? My daughter didn’t just trip, she was physically shoved!”

  “Do you have any proof?” Mrs. Jones asks.

  “Lucas Miller,” I say, cutting my mom off. “He saw Jazmine push me, and he was there when we found the pictures of me-they were everywhere by the way. It took us all day to find every picture and throw them all away.”

  “Then why didn’t he tell anyone?” Mrs. Jones asks.

  “He almost did,” I say. “He told me if I didn’t tell anyone then he would. And I did say something. I told you I didn’t start the fight between Jazmine and I on the fourth floor, and you didn’t do anything about it.”

  My mom looks at Mrs. Jones like she might lunge across the table at any second.

  “Is that true?” She asks. “My daughter told you a very important piece of information, and you deliberately dismissed it? You suspended her anyway?!”

  “Mom, calm down.”

  “Mrs. Young,” Mrs. Jones begins. “I understand why you’re upset, but the decision was not necessarily mine to make. If I wasn’t to have suspended Kalani, the school board would have taken action. She would have gotten suspended anyway.”

  “For something that wasn’t even her fault?” My mom asks. “You know that’s going to be on her record forever? She’s a senior this year. Now the first thing that colleges are going to see is that she got suspended for fighting​​.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mrs. Jones says. “But without any real evidence of your accusations, there’s nothing I can do for Kalani.”

  “Don’t you have any security cameras at the school? Any footage?” My mom asks.

  Mrs. Jones thinks for a moment. “We do.”

  “Why isn’t that the first thing you went to when all of this happened?” My mom asks. “Why didn’t you even consider it?”

  “I honestly don’t know...” Mrs. Jones says. “It slipped my mind.”

  My mother let’s out a frustrated sound, but she doesn’t say anything.

  “Here’s what I’ll do,” Mrs. Jones begins. “When school starts again, the first thing I’ll do is check the footage. All ​of the footage. If what Kalani is saying is true, Jazmine will be punished.”

  “Thank you,” my mom says. She looks over at me, and smiles.

  I never thought about security cameras.

  It never even crossed my mind.

  * * *

  I realize now, why I’ve been cutting myself. I’ve been cutting myself, because everybody seems to hate me. Why else would someone spread a rumor about me? And why would the people at school choose to react negatively to the rumor if they don’t hate me? Why else would the people at school choose to make fun of me? And why else would someone choose to photoshop my face onto the body of a bikini model? And then, why else would the people at school choose to laugh about it, rather than throw the pictures away? Everybody seems to hate me. And the truth is, I’m beginning to understand why. I’m nothing special. I’m not the prettiest in my family. I’m not the smartest, either.

  I don’t have any special talents. I’m not a star athlete. I haven’t go
tten one acceptance letter to any colleges that I’ve applied to. I understand why people hate me. I understand, because I’m beginning to hate myself, too. That’s why I’ve been cutting myself. I no longer care what happens to my body. It’s worthless to me.

  I’m worthless.

  Eleven

  Christmas morning is nothing special when it comes to my family. The banks are closed for the day, but that never stops my dad from bringing home a stack of paperwork as tall as me the night before. He’ll be working on the paperwork all day today. I won’t see him. My mom will spend her time trying to help him, because for some unknown reason, she thinks that because my dad is a CEO, she’s ​​a CEO, too, so I won’t see her today, either. Because my parents don’t seem to care about Christmas, my other siblings don’t either. Amelia will probably spend the day with her fiancé, and Mia will probably do whatever it is she does at her new apartment.

  Caden and Skylar will probably play some sort of game together. And I’ll be left alone. That’s what always happens. It’s what happens during holidays. It’s what happens on the weekends. It’s what happens during breaks. It’s just what happens. I’m always the odd one out. It’s okay. I’m used to it.

  * * *

  “Since the rest of your family doesn’t care about spending quality time together,” Lucas says, as he stands in the entrance to my room.

  “Do you want to come over to my house for my family’s Christmas dinner?” He asks.

  I’m not surprised that he asked me. He asks me every year, and as tempting as it is, I always say no. I always feel like if I agree to dinner with his family, I’ll be intruding on his life. The bond he has with his parents is unbreakable; not like my relationship with my parents.

  I don’t want to ruin that. But right now, my family is crumbling. We don’t even celebrate holidays together anymore. We’re completely separated, and I’m not exactly what you would call stable.

  Maybe it would be good to go to dinner with Lucas and his family. Maybe they’ll accept me, the way my family has failed to do.

  “Sure,” I say. “What time should I be over at your house?”

  “Really?” Lucas asks. He grins from ear to ear, and his eyes brighten. “Um, dinner is supposed to start at 7:00. Maybe come at like 6:30?”

  “Okay,” I say. “What should I wear?”

  “Whatever you want,” Lucas shrugs. “We’re not exactly what you would call ‘fancy’.”

  I laugh, and Lucas does too. He smiles at me, then turns on his heel and leaves.

  At this point, I don’t care if I’m intruding on Lucas’s family dinner. My family isn’t hosting a dinner, and we definitely don’t have any plans today. I’m going to have dinner with someone who cares to have me in their life.

  * * *

  Lucas’s house is not like mine. It’s not a mansion, it doesn’t have a grand staircase, and he doesn’t have ten cars parked out front. But it is warm, and friendly, and when you walk through the door, it feels like home. Lucas is wearing a blue sweater, and blue jeans. Thank God he’s wearing a long sleeve, because I wore a black long sleeve V-neck, and I would feel a little uncomfortable if I was the only one to wear something so safe.

  I just can’t wear anything that shows my arms. I know my family knows about the cuts on my arms, but that doesn’t mean I want Lucas’s family to know. I don’t want them to judge me. Lucas’s parents have known me ever since I can remember. They’ve always loved me, and I’m sure that they’d be accepting of what I’ve done. But I’m too afraid to take that risk right now.

  “Kalani!” Lucas’s Mom exclaims. The light shines against her dark hair, which falls above her shoulders, and her dark blue eyes seem to hold mine. Her name is Suzan. Suzan Miller.

  Suzan wraps her arms around me, embracing me in a hug. “How are you?” She asks, finally releasing me.

  “I’m okay,” I say, and I leave it at that.

  “Hi Kalani,” Lucas’s Dad says. Ben Miller is tall, with short brown hair that shoots practically every direction, and a pair of green eyes that match his son’s eyes. It’s clear that Lucas got his looks from his Dad. He’s the perfect copy of a young Ben.

  “Hello,” I say, with a smile. Ben sticks out his arm, his hand outstretched. I take his hand in mine, and shake twice.

  “How have you been?” Ben asks, turning abruptly and making his way into the living room.

  “Pretty good,” I say. Lucas and I follow his dad through the living room, and into the dining room. The walls are dark red, and a dark oakwood table sits smackdab in the center of the room. On the table lies a white cloth which stretches from one end of the table to the other, and four white plates sit at each chair, perfectly placed for four people to eat.

  Ben’s dad sits down at the head of the table. Like a true gentleman, Lucas pulls out a chair for me to sit in; always taking care of me. I sit, and he pushes me back in. Then he sits down next to me. We make small talk for about ten minutes, bouncing between conversations, while Suzan makes a few final touches to the meal. I can smell the food before she can make it through the doorway: A giant ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, potato salad, and regular salad.

  My mouth waters uncontrollably.

  “Would you like something to drink, Kalani?” Suzan asks.

  “Just water, please.”

  Suzan smiles, then returns to the kitchen. Lucas’s family reminds me of a family straight out of a TV show; they’re picture perfect it seems. Suzan is drop dead gorgeous, despite being almost fifty years old; no wrinkles, no grey hairs, no nothing. Ben is extremely handsome; the first time I met him, I thought he was twenty years old: he was thirty-seven. And Lucas is, well, also kind of perfect. No acne, no blemishes, no nothing.

  His dark hair is always messy, but more like a hot kind of messy. And I shouldn’t even have to mention his eyes, and how they mesmerize me every time he looks at me. Lucas’s family is perfectly conventionalized. They all have impressive manners; Lucas even pulled out my chair for me. And none of them could ever be cruel. Even when Lucas is mad, he’s still kind. I know the same is true of Lucas’s parents. I’ve been in their house during one of their ‘fights’, or so they called it. The truth is, if my parents fought the way Lucas’s parents do, maybe our family wouldn’t be so torn apart.

  “Here you go,” Suzan says, setting down a glass filled to the brim with water in front of me.

  “Please, take as much as you want,” Ben says gesturing to the food in front of me. “Suzan apparently thought she was making dinner for a village.” He chuckles. Suzan bats him on the arm, but offers a playful smile.

  I reach for the mashed potatoes, but Lucas is there before me.

  “I got it,” he says, grabbing my plate. He places a few scoops of mashed potatoes on my plate, and then splatters the pile with gravy. He then goes on to place a few pieces of ham on my plate, and then some potato salad.

  He hands me back my plate, then begins filling his plate.

  “Thanks,” I say. Lucas smiles, but doesn’t say anything. Again, with the perfect manners. Do his parents make him act this polite? Or does it just come naturally? If it does, I’m not surprised. Everything Lucas does is always out of the goodness of his heart.

  Once everyone has gotten their share of food, we all dig in. Nobody speaks at first because we’re all too busy eating.

  “So, Kalani,” Suzan says, finally. “Lucas told me that you were in the hospital a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “What happened?” She asks me. I’m debating whether or not I should tell her the truth. I guess I should, considering everybody else knows.

  “A few girls, um, beat me up in the school parking lot,” I say.

  They both stare at me, not saying anything. Ben’s mouth is half open, and his fork full of mashed potatoes is almost touching his lips. Suzan stares at me like I have two heads.

  “Oh my gosh,” Suzan says. “What an awful thing to happen to you!”

  Lucas stares
down at his plate, but he doesn’t say anything. I know that he still blames himself for what happened to me.

  “I’m, okay,” I say, my words stumbling. “I just spent a few nights in the hospital, and then I went home.”

  “Yeah, after they did surgery on you,” Lucas mumbles.

  “What was the surgery for?” Ben asks me. I can see that his fork full of mashed potatoes have successfully gotten to his mouth.

  “One of the girls... Broke one of my ribs...” I say, and I can hear Suzan gasp. “They had to remove a few fragments of bone that chipped off of my rib.”

  “Wow,” Ben says. He plows his fork into his mashed potatoes and shoves the pile into his mouth.

  “How are you feeling after all of that?” Suzan asks.

  “I’m feeling better,” I say. “I was just lucky that Lucas got there in time. If it wasn’t for him, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

  Lucas continues eating, as if the conversation isn’t even happening.

  “Lucas found you?” Ben asks. He looks from me to Lucas, and back again.

  I nod, and Ben smiles at Lucas.

  “I’m lucky to have your son as my best friend,” I say, and I mean it. I look over at

  Lucas, and rest my hand on his shoulder.

  “Thank you.” I whisper, so that only he can hear me.

  Suzan and Ben go back to eating. Lucas looks over at me, and smiles. We stare at each other for a long time. I am lucky to have him.

  Twelve

  The first thought that comes to mind when I wake up is this: I would rather die than go back to school. It’s 6:30 in the morning, and the sun hasn’t even come up yet. I could always ask to stay home. I could say that I don’t feel good, that I threw up.

  My mom wouldn’t believe me though. I pull myself out of bed and start getting ready.

  I try to get ready as slow as possible. I decide to shower even though I showered last night. Once out of the shower I get dressed, and start blow drying my hair. I’m supposed to be ready by 7:00 for Lucas to pick me up, but I don’t care. I’ll just tell my mom I overslept, and she can call me in late. My phone begins vibrating on the bathroom counter, and it won’t stop.