CH. 19

page 1 of No More Mrs. Nice Guise

I try to think of all the things worse than having Myalgic Encephalomyelitis and I come up short. A debilitating disease isn't the same as living in a warzone or having an abusive parent, but I still feel bad for myself. And then I think of my family and the tender pity in their eyes when the most I move all day is from the bathroom to my bedroom - and still, all I can think about is myself.

I don't like admitting it because being that self-centered would put me on par with my older sister Adelaide who can't watch the news without somehow finding a way to make it all about her. She's pretty in that obvious, cheerleader kind of way. Straight blonde hair and an ass that won't quit. I'm pretty sure she hates me because I consume so much of Mom's time.

My kid brother Leo doesn't like me either. Unlike Addy, he's young enough to not care about my feelings so he makes sure to tell me so on an almost-daily basis. I tripped over one of his Power Rangers in the living room once and couldn't move for two days. Mom took all his toys away for a week until he learned to put them away. He still forgets sometimes, but since I'm always home, I tidy them away while he's at school so he won't get in trouble again. I'm pretty sure he notices that I'm trying to protect him from Mom, but he's six. He doesn't care.

I don't blame Mom for being angry with him. I'm in pain frequently and getting hurt doesn't really help matters. I recover slower and things hurt more. I'm abnormal. A freak, Leo says sometimes when Mom isn't in earshot. I don't correct him because I think he's right.

Today has been a good day. I made it down the stairs and into the kitchen to make myself lunch. Mom wanted to move into a one-story ranch to make it easier for me, but Leo kicked up such a fuss about moving out of the neighborhood where all his friends lived that she eventually gave up on the idea. The kitchen is spotless and the fridge is fully stocked with food, but nothing really looks that appetizing. There's a ton of food with heating instructions taped to the top. Mom always makes me special things so that I'll always have something on hand when she's at work. She doesn't like me cooking because she's afraid if I spend too much time in the kitchen, I'll get hurt. Sharp corners on the counters, knives, and a hot stove are things parents stop worrying about when their kids reach a certain age but for me, I'll always be that age. Leo will outgrow Mom's worry about sharp objects in a few years - I won't.

I'm seventeen but I feel like I'm fourteen. I feel like I've been fourteen for the past three years. That was when I was diagnosed. When people ask me how old I am, "fourteen" is always on the tip of my tongue. Sometimes it comes out and I get a funny look, but it's not a lie. I will forever be tethered to that age.

I've never been kissed and I only got to spend one year in high school before my parents decided homeschooling was my best option. My sorta-kinda friend Emily tells me about the hot guys at school but she starts out every sentence with "you know how...?" and I want to scream at her that no, I don't know. I will never know because I sit at home every day in isolation waiting for the front door to open and my family to come piling through the door. I think she can sense that our middle-school friendship is wearing thin because she doesn't come around as often as she used to.

There used to be a whole group of us girls - they loved sleepovers at my house because my mom baked a ton of cookies and let us eat whatever junk food we wanted. She was just so happy that I had friends despite my debilitating disease. But then Lola got a pool, so everyone went there instead. After Lola, I think Emily's brother got really hot. They all started using her place as the hang-out house until her brother left for college. Now I don't know where everyone goes. All that matters is that I'm not with them.

page 9

Adelaide's makeup is in the bathroom. I hate sharing with her because she always leaves it all over the counter and then rushes off to school ten minutes late, leaving me with the mess.

Today is different. Today I talk to Chick for the first time. Properly, that is. I fumble a bit with the foundation, not knowing whether to put it on a sponge, a brush, or directly on my skin. Finally, I dip the brush in the foundation and give leisurely strokes all across my face. I think I used too much because my face feels wet when I touch it and I have beige marks on my fingers. But it covers up the sallowness of my cheeks and the tiredness of my eyes.

As you might imagine, I have a lot of free time. Most of that time is spent in watching television or reading books. Chick is normal, but he wastes time watching t.v. and playing video games because he prefers not to apply himself because then his parents would have expectations of his academic achievement. We met on a forum dedicated to one of our favorite shows and a few weeks later I recognized his username on Goodreads and Amazon reviews (I also do a lot of online shopping). Since then, we've been inseparable. We email and IM all day long. He even has my number, even though he hasn't called me. I don't want him to, because Mom gets the phone bill and would nag me if she noticed an unfamiliar area code on it. I relish the anonymity of email.

Today we're Skyping.

page 19

Chick said I looked pretty. I don't know if that's true but I thanked him for saying it anyway. He was only slightly above average. Cute but nondescript in a way that wouldn't make you look twice if he passed you on the street. He showed me his chicken pox scars the way a tough biker might show off a new tattoo or a delinquent might show off the package of gum he swiped from the gas station. I think I was supposed to be impressed. I'm not sure if I like moving our relationship from the simplicity of text to a video screen. I hope he doesn't want to do it again.

Author's Note: As you may have guessed, this is an excerpt from Willa's novel! Some of you were asking for more insight into her manuscript and I thought, well, why not write it? Part of it, at any rate. I'll do another one for the next chapter to cover why Cyn got so upset with Willa. :) Do you like it, do you hate it? Let me know!