I'm Not Her

by Janet Gurtler

“Pregnant?”

  “What do you think, Melissa?” My hands shake a little and I lower my sandwich to my lap.

  “Hospitalized for anorexia?” Melissa’s eyes bore into mine for a second and I think she’s going to say something else, but then she looks down at the grass. She eats in silence, but my appetite is gone. When she’s done, she mumbles an excuse about studying in the library, packs up her stuff, and leaves me.

  I head back inside to my own class, and when it’s finally over I head out the door and stop. Devon is leaning against the wall, watching me. He stands straighter, as if he’s waiting for me. “Hey,” he says and I realize he was. He shuffles around and I actually feel a bit sorry for him, even as I’m wishing him away. I try not to remember that he’s obsessed with sex. With my sister.

  Other kids walk by, glancing at us. The hot senior boy and the freshman nobody. Of course, ever since my sister, the wonderful and mysteriously absent Kristina Smith, disappeared, I’ve become the freshman nobody with the missing hot sister. Less nobody only because people think I have the inside scoop on my sister.

  Devon steps beside me so we’re both facing the same way and I’m forced to walk with him. “So,” he says.

  I wait.

  “Uh…” He puts out his hand and stops me. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to see the confused expression in his eyes. “When’s Kristina going to be back?”

  I bite my lip and lift my shoulders, looking around at people passing by us, anywhere but at him. “I’m not sure,” I manage to say.

  “She okay?”

  I try. I really do try. But I can’t think of anything to say, so I shrug again.

  “Is she, uh, mad at me or something?” He has no idea my sister is sick.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “But I really doubt it.” It’s about as honest as I can be.

  “Um, because…” He looks over his shoulder and checks to make sure no one is listening. He lowers his voice. “I’ve been texting and emailing and calling and she hasn’t answered. She hasn’t even signed onto Facebook.”

  I nod and wonder why Kristina didn’t come up with a more elaborate explanation for her absence. Saying she’s home with the flu isn’t going to buy many more absent days. The flu wouldn’t cause Kristina’s total abandonment of her social connections on top of missing school. Rumors are flying if Melissa heard about a possible brain tumor. Or eating disorder.

  Devon stares at me as if he’s waiting for me to say something more. I chew my lip and squirm. “Uh, she, uh…she’s just not up to it. She hasn’t been on the computer at all.”

  “So she’s really sick?”

  I nod. “She doesn’t have a brain tumor, if that’s what you heard.” At least this much is true. God! She lost her virginity to this guy and he has no idea why. I wonder if he thinks she’s pregnant.

  “Can I stop by to see her?” he asks.

  “No!” I almost yell. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

  His cheeks go pink and he throws his shoulders back and stands straighter. “Well, whatever then,” he mumbles and then starts to hurry off. I almost see the steam coming out of his ears. Smooth, Tess.

  “Devon.”

  He turns immediately as if he’d been waiting for me to stop him.

  I walk forward so I can speak to him in a quiet voice. “She won’t see anyone. It’s not you. She really isn’t feeling well.”

  He stares at me. I can tell by his eyes that he cares. “Is she okay?” he asks again. “I mean. Is it something bad? Or is she pissed at me for…something?”

  My eyes burn with tears but I can’t let myself cry. I bite my lip hard. “No. She’s not mad at you. She’s just…sick,” I tell him.

  He takes a deep breath. “You’re sure?”

  “No,” I say softly. “She just won’t see anyone. Not even you.”

  He lets out a breath of air and reaches out and takes my arm. “Okay. Well, will you at least tell her I said hey?”

  A gaggle of freshman jock girls walk by then, openly ogling us. Their eyes are wide and their ears are practically wagging, trying to pick up what we’re talking about. I try not to be bothered by the girls but there I am again, totally visible, in a place I never wanted to be.

  “Sure,” I tell Devon. “No problem.”

  “Thanks.” Devon touches my arm again and I step back, but he just spins around and leaves me while the girls whisper-squeal about the physical contact between us. Me, the invisible girl, and Devon.

  “That is so skanky. She’s totally hitting on her sister’s ex,” I hear one of them squeak as Devon saunters away from me down the hallway. “Sonya said she pushed Kristina off a ladder and broke her leg, and that’s why Kristina’s been away from school so long—she has to get one of those metal things put in it.”

  “I know. I also heard she’s hooking up with Nick Evonic,” another answers. “Someone saw them outside the school making out. Man, going after him and Devon.”

  A wave of fury rattles my head. “That’s a lie, get a freakin’ life,” I yell at them.

  They stop in unison and spin to stare at me, their mouths open.

  I hear the sound of a voice clearing and look over my shoulder. Faculty Advisor Extraordinaire, Mr. Meekers.

  And me. Not exactly performing a show of extreme student leadership.

  “We didn’t say a word to her, Mr. Meekers,” one of the girls whines. “I have no idea why she yelled at us.”

  “That’s not the kind of attitude or behavior we encourage around here, Miss Smith,” he says, and his nose turns up as if he’s smelled something foul. I’m doomed.

  The girls scurry down the hallway, leaving me alone to face the lion. I hear their giggles as they hurry off, hyenas who escaped the predator.

  “I expect more from you.” He taps his finger against his cheek, staring at me. “You know that a measure of a man’s worth is how he handles adversity.”

  “I’m not a man,” I remind him, and groan inwardly. Way to assert my growing verbal powers and defend my gender to my obviously frustrated art teacher, whose only pleasure is the miniscule power control he holds over students like me.

  I step into the human-body freeway rushing by and disappear in the opposite direction. He calls my name with an abrupt tone, but I keep moving, knowing I’ve just added another paragraph or two to my Honor Society obituary. Melissa would be so pissed off, but I’m definitely not going to be the one to tell her.

  Truthfully, the drawing contest needs my attention now. I want to win it so badly. It means more to me than a club. It means redemption. I have to get myself in the proper mind frame to do it right.

  ***

  The dinner table is quiet. For the first time in as long as I can remember, Mom hasn’t cooked us a well-balanced, healthy meal. She ordered in pizza. Normally this would make me delirious, but now it is just another sign of how much things have changed around the house.

  I gaze across the table at Dad. He’s stuffing pizza in his mouth, chewing with gusto. The picture of health. Mom is nibbling on the crust of the one piece she’ll allow herself. Her teeth nibble and nibble. My stomach hurts watching the two of them, so focused on their food.

  “I can’t keep this secret any longer,” I blurt out.

  Dad glances at me and then at Mom, and then takes another slice of pizza from the box and bites off a huge chunk.

  “Why not?” Mom asks, putting down her single piece of pizza and reaching for her napkin to wipe her fingers.

  I stare at her. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Well, it’s not as if…I mean…you and Kristina don’t have a lot of friends in common, so how hard can it be?”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” I shout.

  “Hey,” Dad says. “Calm down.”

  I shoot him a death ray. He’s been burying himself so deeply I wonder if he even remembers my name. He’s ignoring everything going on right in front of his eyes and we’re letting him get away with it. A family pattern I’d
never let bother me before.

  “I’m being stalked by the entire girls’ volleyball team. And half the boys’ team. People are bugging me every single day. I’m supposed to be focused on school…making the Honor Society, not sabotaging myself by missing classes and hiding from people. I should be working for my leadership and service obligations, but instead the freakin’ Prom Committee is chasing me down between classes and at lunch, looking for my sister and her witty quip contributions. They asked me for ideas. People are making things up. Brain tumors. Pregnancy. Worse, Kristina’s boyfriend is hunting me down with big puppy-dog eyes, wondering why she won’t return his phone calls or text messages. It. Is. Very. Hard.”

  “Her boyfriend?” my mom says. “Kristina has a boyfriend?”

  “Give me a break!” I shout and throw my napkin on the table. “Do you really think that’s what’s important right now? Whether or not she has a boyfriend?”

  My mom mumbles something under her breath but, for the sanity of both of us, I choose to ignore her.

  “We can’t keep the cancer a secret anymore. It’s not doing anyone any good and what exactly is the freaking point? Are you ashamed of Kristina because she has cancer? Because to me, you’re giving her the message that she should be ashamed, or maybe that you are ashamed that your perfect daughter is no longer perfect.”

  My mom clamps her mouth shut and stares at me with wide, shocked eyes. My dad looks guilty and uncertain.

  “But what will people say?” Mom finally asks.

  “Who cares what they say! They’re already talking, and anyhow it’s not her fault!” I yell at the top of my lungs. “And don’t you think she wants to hear what people have to say? I mean, the people who care about her? She might get some support from her friends. Her entire volleyball team is freaking out.”

  When exactly did my parents turn into children?

  “We need to respect Kristina’s wishes—” my dad starts to say.

  “Do you know what her wishes are, Dad? Have you sat down and asked her?” He harrumphs me, but has the decency to look embarrassed. He’s come to me, but has he gone to her?

  I don’t want to hear excuses from my parents and their misbehaving, stubborn-little-kid act. I’m fifteen, for God’s sake! I don’t want to be the one to start having the power of veto in my family, but they both seem content to pretend we’re living in a TV sitcom and our life is an episode that will miraculously be solved by a team of writers.

  “What’s wrong with you people?” I yell.

  My mom lifts her finger and starts biting her nail. The only bad habit she allows herself. “Do you really think we should tell everyone?” she asks.

  Dad runs his hands through his messy hair. “It might be best,” he mumbles, then looks at me with watery eyes.

  “Yes,” I say. “It is.” I’m so exasperated I want to shake both of them.

  Suddenly, I am the voice. And it scares the hell out of me.

  “Does she really have a boyfriend?” Mom asks.

  I push away from the table and leave the room.

  ***

  Mom decides we’ll go to the hospital together and discuss it as a family. However, on the drive to the hospital, she announces her brilliant idea that I should talk to Kristina alone first. Sister to sister. As if Mom even knows what it’s like to have a sister relationship, or how far off Kristina and I are from exchanging secrets like Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. As soon as we get to the hospital, Mom and Dad sneak off with an excuse about grabbing coffees to give the sisters a chance to talk.

  “Tell her that it’s probably for the best,” Mom says. “To involve her friends.”

  As if fifteen-year-old me can do a better job talking to Kristina than they can. Great. Suddenly I’m the responsible one. How do you spell dysfunctional? S-M-I-T-H.

  “So,” I say, when Kristina and I are done with small talk. Like, hello.

  She’s laying on her side, curled up in a fetal position. I pull my chair up so we’re at eye level. She looks so tired and pale I almost want to put off the conversation, but if I hold it in too long, I’ll explode or chicken out.

  “Mom and Dad and I think we should tell people. You know. That you have cancer,” I blurt with all the tact of a mating elephant.

  Kristina blinks and stares and then glimpses at the doorway. “Let me guess. They made you be the one to tell me?”

  I nod once. “I guess they’re afraid you’ll be mad at them. Maybe they think you’ll only hate the messenger. You can yell at me if you want, get it off your chest.”

  Without meaning to, my eyes go to the tubes poking out of her gown. Right from her chest.

  Kristina sighs. She doesn’t seem to have the energy to get mad. I kind of wish she would yell at me. Bully me and intimidate me with stupid threats.

  “You’re okay with it?” I ask. “I mean, everyone at school is going crazy worrying about you. I can’t keep it quiet anymore. There are rumors.”

  “What are they saying?” she asks, but she’s looking at the wall, not at me.

  I lift my finger to my mouth and chew the hangnail. “You know. That you’re pregnant, on drugs, being treated for an eating disorder.”

  For the first time in a long while, a real smile tugs at her lips. “I’d like to go with pregnant. It makes me sound kind of like Juno.”

  She’s more Clueless than Juno.

  She spurts out a single giggle. “Oh my God! Can you imagine if I really was pregnant with Devon’s baby?”

  I gag. “No, thank you.” I stick out my tongue with disgust. “Anyhow. Seriously. I think that we should tell people the truth. I mean, for your sake too. There are a lot of people who care about you and stuff.”

  Her head dangles down and then up again, as if it’s a huge effort. “Fine. What’s the point in trying to hide it anyhow?” she says. “The doctor said I’m going to be as bald as a cue ball before long.” She lets out a long, loud breath of air.

  I’m not sure what to say. “If anyone can pull it off, you can,” I mumble.

  Kristina doesn’t say anything for a minute, then looks out the window. “This chemo cycle ends tomorrow. I’m coming home for a couple weeks until the next cycle starts.”

  I’m not surprised no one bothered to tell me. Kristina doesn’t seem excited to be coming home, but I guess it’s hard to feel happy about much in her condition.

  “I don’t care who you tell,” she says softly. But then she looks me directly in the eye and I see a flash of her old stubbornness. “But no visitors. Not at home either,” she tells me. “I don’t want to see anyone. No one.”

  “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” I tell her in an equally quiet voice.

  “You have no idea how I feel.” She snorts, but it’s feeble. “And don’t tell anyone I might lose my leg. Please, Tess?”

  “Your friends will stand by you. Whatever happens.”

  “No. People are going to feel sorry for me. They’ll be relieved it’s not them and then they’ll pretend we’re still friends but we won’t even know what to say to each other. If I lose my leg…well, then they’ll just be grossed out. Who would want to be my friend then? I might as well just die.”

  Fear plummets my heart down to my knees. I suck in a deep breath. “Don’t say that. You don’t want to die. You’ll still be you.”

  “You have no idea what I want.”

  “Oh my God, Kristina.” I wish my parents would get their asses back this second.

  My cheeks burn and I struggle not to cry, but she keeps speaking, her voice monotone.

  “I won’t be the same person. I’m already not the same person even if I do keep my leg. You know? I won’t ever play volleyball like I used to. I’m not Kristina Smith anymore. I’m flawed.”

  “I always thought flaws made people more interesting,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel.

  “I know, because you don’t care what other people think.”

  I open my mouth to tell her she’s wrong, but she
keeps talking.

  “I got a rose,” she says. “A really pretty red one.” She lifts her thin hand in the air as if waving away dust particles. “Well, I didn’t actually get it. There’s no flowers allowed on this ward or in the room, but Tracey, the nurse, described it to me. She said it hadn’t bloomed fully yet, but was beautiful. I told Tracey to take it home to her little girl, Carly. She told me Carly has an ear infection, so it’ll make her feel better.”

  I smile. My sister loves little kids so it doesn’t surprise me she’d do that.

  “She gave me the card. It just said, ‘Thinking of You.’ No signature.”

  “Jeremy,” we both say at the same time.

  She smiles. “At first I thought he had a crush on you.”

  An image of him lighting up at the mention of her pops in my head. “On me? Are you kidding?” A laugh escapes me and Kristina smiles. I realize with surprise that Kristina says things like that to me, trying to make me feel good, when in fact it was pretty obvious Jeremy was falling all over himself to get to her.

  “He’s your fan, not mine.” I pause. “Do you like him?”

  “He’s young but, yeah, I like him. He stops by my room a lot and we chat. He’s always doing nice things for me. He doesn’t treat me like I’m different than I was.”

  I nod.

  “His mom has cancer,” she says.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “How do you know?” she asks.

  “Well, he is at the hospital all the time.” I decide to stick to the truth. “I’ve talked to him at school too. He told me a while ago that she has breast cancer.” I avoid looking Kristina in the eye. “He hasn’t told anyone about you. At school, I mean. But anyway, I guess people will know soon enough.”

  “I don’t want anyone coming to the house when I get home,” she says. “No one is allowed to come and see me.”

  “What about Devon?” I ask. “He’s super worried.”

  “Especially not Devon.”

  “That kind of defeats the purpose of letting people know, don’t you think?”

  “No,” she says, “I don’t. I can’t deal with anyone. I feel terrible and I look worse. I don’t want to see anyone.” She clears her throat. “Will you do me a favor?” she asks.