by SL Naeole
"But underneath that mask, underneath everything that everyone thinks they know, is the real me; the person that they'd never expect--the person that they'll never, ever see.
"The cruel me, the evil me, the heartless me. To show the real me would mean losing everything that I've worked so hard to set up. I cannot show him, or anyone, to what lengths I would go to get my way. I cannot let him see to what lengths I'd go to get rid of something as insignificant as a dormouse. I cannot let him think that his love is wasted on me.
"But, what happens if I'm honest? What happens when I reveal that beneath the first mask of ice, and beneath the second mask of down, lays someone who wears no mask at all, but instead a hat. And that hat is of someone quite mad? Will he still be willing to sit down at this Mad Hatter's table and have tea? Will I be two masks too late? Can I set back my watch to a time before truth? What was it the Mad Hatter said? '...it's very easy to take more than nothing.' And that's exactly it, isn't it?
"I have given nothing, and have taken so much more. I've taken his trust, and I've given him back nothing but lies which only take more themselves. I've taken his love and I've given him back nothing but hurt in pretty little sugar coated packages. Mask one and two. So perhaps I simply remove the hat, and keep the masks on. He doesn't need to know.
"I can simply try to put more cracks in the first mask, and polish up the second. The person that he loves wouldn't be hurtful and spiteful. The person he loves wouldn't be cruel and hateful. He loves me, and I have to be that person, because the truth is that he loves everyone--if he can't love me, then that makes me different in a way all my own. There are no cakes or drinks that can change me so that I'll fit into that slot he has opened in his life for me. And, I can't sit at my own tea party alone, different, while the rest of the world's story goes on."
The confusion on Erica's face was plain. The lines between her brows threw off the smile she kept planted on her mouth. It was as if her face were comprised of two halves, but both seemed intent on losing to the inner struggle she seemed to be having with herself.
"Um, I don't get it, Mr. Danielson. I thought this was supposed to be about me, and not about some silly kid's story."
Mr. Danielson, who had sat down on the stage to listen to Erica's monologue, shook his head, himself seeming confused. The way he brushed his hand through his hair, and the sigh that came out of him seemed a far more passive reaction than the one that he had given after my reading, but could he be just as disappointed, too? Perhaps I wasn't plain enough?
"Miss Hamilton, I don't understand what exactly it is that you don't get. Is it perhaps the symbolism? Or could it be that you don't get why Miss Shelley wasn't as spiteful with her words as you were with yours?"
Erica's face morphed through a few different shades of red before finally settling on an irate sort of rouge. "She wasn't spiteful? Calling me cruel and evil and heartless isn't spiteful?"
"Miss Hamilton, do I need to remind you of some of the things that you had Miss Shelley here say? Most of which go beyond spite and border on absolute vindictiveness, I might add."
A murmur started traveling through the audience. It sounded like a soft hum, barely perceptible, what with the whistling of steam coming out of Erica's ears, but it grew louder. It could only have been my imagination, but the murmur started to take on a more tangible vibe. The louder it got, the clearer it became, and the words certainly had an effect on Erica. She stormed off of the stage as the chant of "Flunk Erica" echoed all around me.
I watched her, her shoulders hunched over, her face still confused, but her eyes now misted over with angry tears, and I couldn't help but feel a sort of sympathy towards her. Had I felt a bit more confident, I probably would have reached out my hand to her in truce, as a peace offering, or maybe just in support and understanding. Instead, having the taste of saying that I had killed my mother in my mouth caused me to feel far less confident, and far more disgusted with myself.
Flunk Erica? Flunk Grace for having had no backbone to stand up for my mother, for myself... Erica might have written that vile nastiness, but I read it. I put a voice to her words, gave them power and life, and the nausea that hadn't felt a need to make its appearance during my speech finally showed up at my acknowledgement of that.
Gee?
"Grace?"
I looked up to see two beautiful faces, two pairs of beautiful eyes, one green, the other silver, both filled with concern, and both for me. How could they be concerned for me after what I had just done?
Gee, you have done nothing wrong. Do not feel guilty and give Erica what she wants.
"Grace, I'm sorry about what Erica did. I didn't know that you were in the same class. She said that she had something planned for her partner, but I swear I didn't know it was you she was talking about. I-"
Robert's face was reassuring, while Graham looked so lost, his voice couldn't find its way back out of his mouth. He looked at Robert, and nodded. My eyes widened. Did Robert let Graham know about his secret?
No. He's come to a decision.
"Grace, I have to take care of something. Do you think you could wait here for me?"
I looked at Graham, his face hardened from the pain and anger he was feeling. I didn't like that face. It was the same face he had on when he told us we couldn't be friends anymore, and the dread in me started to pile up again, only this time I didn't have an old Buick's windshield to keep me propped up.
"I need to talk to Erica, Grace. I'll be back...I promise." He felt he had to reassure me. He knew what I was feeling. That wasn't expected.
"I'll be here."
He nodded his head at my own promise and stood up. I watched him walk away, this time with a lot less dread in my heart. Of course, this time, when I turned my head, there was another pair of eyes still on me, still gauging my emotions.
"How horrible was it? The thoughts in everyone's heads?" I knew he had no choice but to be honest with me, a painful perk I was glad for at the moment if only because I knew that I wouldn't be led into believing anything but the truth.
"You cannot begin to understand the deep level of sympathy that your fellow classmates feel for you. Odd though you are to them, none of them could have placed themselves in your shoes and felt they deserved it."
I felt the moisture build in my eyes, felt their weight cling to my lashes as they tried to cage in the tears, but their release was unstoppable, and they rushed out, free at last. "I don't understand how they could feel something like that for Grace the freak. What Erica wrote, a great deal of it is based on the truth. A lot of them do think that way, and I do often times blame myself for my mother's death because I know what happened...I just can't remember."
Robert's hand beneath my lower lashes, wiping away an errant tear, caused me to breathe in sharply. I bit my lip to keep from gasping at the intense burning sensation his skin had caused, and held my breath to try and slow down my racing heart. The emotions in me from the words I had uttered today felt so raw; he was affecting me differently than normal. That was the only thing I could blame this on.
The darkening metal of his eyes seemed to confirm my thoughts. He was hearing them just as clearly as if I had said them aloud, I already knew. "Grace, don't blame yourself for your mother's death. Her life had reached its intended end. You did not cause her death any more than you could have caused the deaths of everyone on the Titanic. This has been explained to you already." He reached for my hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
I nodded my head in compliance. What else was there to do? It had been explained to me, although not in as much detail as I would have liked. Lark had told me just enough to keep me curious, and Robert had told me nothing at all, despite all of his admissions.
"It's just that what I said, as difficult as it was to say, it was as though she had been in my head, read some of my thoughts herself, and just embellished them. Not all of them, but you know what I mean."
I couldn't look at him anymore. Not with the way I was feel
ing. Unbeknownst to either Erica or myself, we had written about each other's hidden selves, sides of us that we both perceived that no one had seen but were so wrong, for we had both seen it in each other. For her, the darkness she had kept hidden away; for me, the doubt and guilt I had tried to deny. How alike we both were, and how much that killed me to admit.
Again, the strange, insane feeling of needing to comfort her, wherever she was, crawled into my mind; I knew it was absolutely impossible for there to be anything between us now except animosity.
I looked up again when I saw Mr. Danielson squatting in front of me, a concerned puckering of his forehead masking what would have been a very pleasant face to look at had I even been remotely interested in doing so. "Grace, I think I should apologize for what happened here today. It was not my intention for any of this to occur."
I shrugged my shoulders. "You couldn't have known how far either of us were going to take it, Mr. Danielson."
"No, you're wrong, Grace. I should have known that the tension between you two would result in something like this. On her part at the very least but I didn't, and for that I'm truly sorry. What she made you say...I cannot believe--I want you to know that there will be a suspension hearing on Monday regarding today's incident."
I shook my head, my eyes widening in shock. "If she deserves to be suspended, then so do I. We both took pot shots at each other, and none of them were because we were fooling around. I don't think it would be fair to punish her and not me when we both did the exact same thing."
He stared at me, his expression one of surprise. I knew what he was thinking; I must be weird to want to go down in flames alongside Erica Hamilton after what she did. Truth was I simply couldn't let her be punished for something I knew was going to happen and yet something that I had allowed myself to be a part of anyway.
"Mr. Danielson, whatever her punishment, I deserve the same."
He brought his lips inward, clenched between his teeth in a thin line of disapproval. "You're definitely not like everyone else, Grace Shelley. After everything you've been through recently, I half expected you to burst into tears during your soliloquy, but you kept yourself together. Whatever it is that Miss Hamilton seems to think you're incapable of acquiring, I don't doubt you'll have no problem of getting it-" he looked at Robert, who was still looking at me...I could feel it "-if you don't have it already."
The hand that was still holding mine squeezed it again. A silent confirmation. I had him. I knew this. But as what?
Mr. Danielson stood up. "I'm going to go and see if I can find Miss Hamilton to discuss what's going to happen. If you change your mind, do let me know on Monday, Grace. That gives you the whole weekend to think about it."
As he walked away, it dawned on me what it was that Erica had wanted. She had wanted the emotional outburst, the retaliatory actions in defense of me; she wanted the very thing that my own conscience would not allow, and she wanted it because she wanted to be the victim. She wanted to lessen the sympathies that might have been felt towards me so that her pain and suffering could take center stage and not be overshadowed by whatever it was that I had gone through. She was...jealous.
"Holy crap." I was in disbelief.
Robert looked just as stunned as I felt.
"Erica Hamilton is jealous because people feel sorry for me?" Even saying it couldn't make it sound any less ridiculous. "But why?"
Robert stroked my thumb with his and sighed. "She's never felt that before. She's never had people thinking that she's vulnerable, or that she could be the victim of anything or anyone other than herself. She puts up such a strong front, people are afraid of her, and the natural instinct in people is to feel everything but sympathy. They shy away from her with most emotions really, but the one thing she has never been able to experience is sympathy, because who can feel sympathy towards someone who feels no sympathy towards others?
"Who can genuinely feel sorry for her when her own actions bring about her problems? Like today, for example: She was expecting you to go after her, and you did, but you didn't attack her in the same manner that she did to you, and because it wasn't so blatant, so obvious to her, she couldn't quite see that everyone else noticed and felt only that justice had been served.
"The suspension would have just been icing on the cake for her. You did her a great disservice by telling Mr. Danielson to not punish her without punishing you as well. If, for whatever reason, he decides that both of you should be reprimanded, it'll only make her that much more angry, because you'll be the one who was wrongly disciplined in the eyes of the student body, and that's the last thing she wants. You can't be the victim anymore if she's going to be."
Oh how good that almost sounded. How good it sounded to not be a victim, not be a freak, not be anything else and just be Grace. How strange, and wonderful, and confusing, and fantastic. But I could also see how pathetic it was, to finally be the envy of someone and have it not be because of something I had achieved, but rather because of circumstances beyond my control. "She can't share anything, can she? Not even a role that no one really ever wants."
Robert sighed again. "Whether she can't or won't doesn't matter; she's already a victim."
I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. "Yeah. Of herself."
SHIFT
The auditorium was completely empty by the time Graham returned. A janitor had already asked Robert and I to leave twice, but I had promised Graham that I would stay until he came back, and with my uncertainty about where exactly our relationship stood after the soliloquies, I did not want to take any chance at weakening what little I might have left in way of a friendship with him. Losing his friendship, even for that short blip of time, had altered my world in ways that I did not want to relive.
Robert was still holding my hand, squeezing it reassuringly whenever my mind would run through some thoughts that were painful or foolishly self-deprecating. We had not spoken once since the realization had hit me that Erica had become a victim of her own machinations. He could still hear my thoughts, but didn't try to force me to hear his. The awaited intrusion by Stacy or Lark never materialized, and I was as yet still so unsure of so many things that just sitting here together was enough.
"Grace."
Graham squatted in front of me, his face unmistakably upset. "Grace, I want you to know that I did not know about any of this. What Erica did, what she tried to do to you...we're done, Grace. It's over between Erica and me. God, I didn't know. I swear to you, I did not know..."
"Of course you didn't know, Graham. I didn't think that you did." I tried my best to reassure him, removing my hand from Robert's and placing it on his. "You couldn't have known just how much she hated me."
Shaking his head, he turned his hand over and gripped mine with fierce fingers. "I should have known. I should have realized when she was pleased that you and I were friends again that something was up. She was so insistent that I end my friendship with you this summer--I stalled for as long as I could--and when I did, she was so happy, I didn't think about what it would mean..."
I looked at my friend. His heart was broken, his trust had been shattered, and his world had been turned upside down. If anyone understood what he felt, it was certainly me. "Graham, I'm sorry-"
Graham's shouting silenced me. "Would you stop trying to apologize, Grace? I'm the one who screwed up and brought her into our lives. If I could go back and do it over again, do it differently, I would; I didn't know she'd go all Fatal Attraction on us!"
I smirked. "I'll be sure to warn the neighborhood rabbits."
He didn't seem amused.
"Graham, I'm not worried about Erica anymore. I'm only worried about how you're feeling." I wriggled my fingers free from his tight grip, the blood rushing to them all at once, and placed them, tingling and numb all at the same time, on the side of his face. "I didn't want any of this to hurt you."
Robert stood up suddenly, his face a mixture of so many emotions I could only pick out the anger in his steel eyes
and the sadness in the downturn of his mouth. "Grace, let's get you home. I'm sure Janice and your father are wondering how things went today."
I removed my hand from Graham's face, the tone of Robert's voice, and the sorrow and guilt in Graham's eyes both pulling at something inside of me that I didn't even know existed. I looked at Robert's awaiting hand and reached for it. He pulled me up quickly, effortlessly. "My crutches-"
Graham handed them to me, apparently having grabbed them the minute I had removed my hand from his face. I allowed him to place them under my arms, and heard him sigh sadly as he stepped away. "She wants him, you know."
My eyes jerked up. "What?"
He flicked his eyes over to Robert's face, as though expecting some sign of acknowledgement to his statement. "She told me so after I said we were through. She said she didn't care if we were over because she and Robert were meant for each other."
I felt a bubble of laughter climb its way up my throat. It burst out and echoed around the auditorium, proof of my incredulity and faith all at once. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you, Graham, please believe me. I'm laughing at her saying she and Robert were meant for each other."
Robert's face was a veritable rock, while Graham's was a composite of confusion, anger, pain, and humor.
"Grace, let's go." Robert tugged at my hand.
"How are you going to get her home?" Graham asked, his arms now folded across his chest, his face wiped clean of everything except a hint of arrogance. "Her Dad dropped the two of you off from what I heard."
I was beginning to wonder that myself, as I waited for Robert to answer. His motioned his head towards the door of the auditorium, and I heard Graham groan. I didn't even have to turn my head to know who could elicit such a reaction from him.
"I've got practice in thirty minutes so you two had better hurry up," Stacy yelled before heading out the door, the end of her ponytail the last thing I saw as she disappeared from view.