Page 41 of The Glass Girl

Ricci backs into me, pressing her spine against my legs, the nibbled bear claw snug in her fist. I stroke her hair.

And something in me breaks again as I think how Ricci said she doesn’t like our life. She’s too little to not like her life.

I don’t like our life.Mylife.

All of a sudden, I just feel…lost. Defeated. Like all the blood has leaked from me. Like my bones have fluttered into dust. I tried so hard, all week, for everything, and got nothing. Just fucked up over and over and over again. And now this.

Vanessa clears her throat. “Let’s all take a breath,” she says.

“Bella.” My dad’s voice is loud. “Are you listening to me? Answer me.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Perfect,” he says. “That sounds like heaven.”

He turns away from me.

—

I stay in our bedroom with Ricci while she looks at cat videos.

I have to get out of here.

—

Dad and Vanessa have pulled the small round table into the middle of the kitchen. There are three regular chairs and one stool from the breakfast bar. Ricci sits on that. The roast and vegetables are on the counter. Vanessa makes the plates and sets them down. The edges of our plates touch since the table is so tiny. Vanessa ended up making macaroni and cheese for Ricci. We eat quietly. I make sure to tell Vanessa that everything is great, and it is, but it barely registers for me. I’m just mouthing the words. No one mentions the missing mashed potatoes or the broken bowl or the Band-Aid on Ricci’s swinging foot. Dad drinks three beers and has two plates of food. Vanessa and Ricci make funny faces at each other. Dad finishesand goes to the front room, turning on football on the television. Stretches out on the couch, calls to me, “Bella, clean up. Vanessa did all the cooking. You can do something, too.”

I do the dishes, waving Vanessa off. Put away the food. Wipe the table, push it back. Put the chairs back in place. Put the stool back by the breakfast bar. Make everything just so, like there was never a fight here, or an incident with a shattered bowl and a bloody foot. Vanessa gets dressed and takes Ricci to the park, lets her stay in her pajamas.

—

In my room, I climb onto my bunk and stare at the ceiling. I feelinside myself and outside myself all at once. I am not in a good place. I should stop my thoughts but I can’t, my brain and my heart are fighting, like they always do, and one by one, all my failures flood back to me, like text floating by on PowerPoint slides and notecards, just like my stupid presentation forart:

Had a boyfriend.

He left because I wastoo much.

Got drunk and had a meltdown and cried in a bathtub at a party.

My grandmother died.

Amber hates me.

My mom is lonely and sad.

My dad is mad and sad.

My little sister is seven and already says she hates her life.

Cherie hates me.

I messed up the art project.

I didn’t put myself in the tree.

I messed up my lit project.

Points off

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