Page 65 of Hold Me Today

I remember every second of standing there and trying not to cry. I remember when he said I’d be lucky if a man wanted to marry me because I’d probably have kids as stupid as I am.

He was angry and drinking and I’m sure he didn’t mean it but . . . it hurt. A lot.

Probably didn’t help that no one asked me to the dance. I thought, maybe, someone might. A few of the guys left notes in the girls’ lockers asking them, and I checked mine every morning and every afternoon before I went home, but no notes.

Aleka told me boys my age are stupid, and I think she’s right. So I went into business. Put up flyers all over the school that said I was doing girls’ hair for the dance. I charged $15. Pretty good if you ask me, because I had TWELVE girls sign up!!! I went to Effie’s house and even though it’s not that big in there, she collected the money and I borrowed her mom’s stuff. The girls and their moms came, and even though none of them are my friends, I’m glad I could make them feel beautiful. Everyone deserves to feel pretty. One day, I know I’ll feel that way too.

But one of the boys came with his date, and I asked if he wanted me to style his hair. He flipped out. Said that I have a unibrow—I DON’T. I know because I shave it off because that’s what happens when you’re hairy. You shave every day. And then he said that I should just go back to my country. I LIVE IN AMERICA. And all because I said I’d do his hair. I hope it falls out and he goes bald and it all ends up coming out of his nostrils.

I cried.

I didn’t want to cry but between Baba and that stupid boy, I cried. Nick found me like that. I wish I didn’t like him so much. He’s Effie’s big brother and he’s never looked at me as anything but a brat but then he asked me to dance, and he put on some Greek song and took me in his arms and I CRIED ALL OVER HIM.

He was just trying to be nice and I ruined the moment with snot. True romance right there.

The worst part is, I thought at one point he might kiss me . . . we were close, like almost nose to nose because I was standing on my tiptoes, and it could have happened. Maybe. I closed my eyes. That’s what they all do in the movies. They close their eyes and lean in.

But Nick didn’t lean in.

He told me he’s dating this girl he really likes at school. Her name is Brynn and she’s beautiful, he says, and he thinks it might be the real deal.

I thought HE was the real deal.

Stupid me.

So, yeah, bad memories, GSN. I’ll pay to get rid of them. All of them.

I’ll miss you, since today is our last day of Greek school FOREVER. Thank you for listening. It’s nice to feel like someone understands me, even if you’re only a notebook and I’ve probably ruined you with all my bad grammar and misspelled words.

Hugs,

MINA

I closethe notebook and toss it back in the bin. It’s either stamp out the emotion or let it consume me, and crying gets a girl nowhere in life.Patience,like I have tattooed on the sole of my foot, gets me places.Soaring,like the set of wings I have inked behind my ear, reminds me to always keep moving, even if my steps are small and measured and frightened by the unknown lingering before me.

But I’ve lived my entire life with some unknown part of me taking up residence in my soul, and I’ve never been all that scared by thewhat-ifsof the world.What-ifsare useless wastes of time. Get out there, make the magic happen—no matter what—and learn as you go. It’s the key to survival, and how I operate.

I could spend months lamenting Jake the IOU Asshole, but that would get me nowhere. Same with the damn stairs and my sudden move back to my childhood home. It is what it is, and so long as I give my dad a wide birth, I’m sure we can co-exist like normal people.

Shoving the bin back under the bed, I grasp the side of my laptop and haul it to the edge of the mattress. A few strokes of the keyboard later and I’ve officially accepted the invitation to participate in the fashion show.

“There,” I say with an air of finality, “now move on to the next thing.”

I smooth my thumb over the mouse pad. “Moving on to the next thing” reminds me of Nick and all his temporary longing theories. He’s not wrong. Dreams change, they adjust and grow, and . . . I have no idea what in the world I’ll start dreaming about afterAgapeopens. More clients, maybe, or more stints in hair shows and fashion shows or more followers on Instagram.

Or something.

I’m sure it’ll come to me. It’s not as though my ambition and drive will just roll over and die with the grand opening of a hair salon. That’s not how this dream thing works.

I close my laptop and put it away, then putz around my room. Fiddle with old trinkets I haven’t seen in years. Send Effie a text about grabbing dinner together later this week. Boredom clings to me like a second skin until I find myself stripping off my sweats and putting on a pair of high-waisted jeans and a crop-top sweater with bell sleeves. I grab a beanie hat and gloves and shove my feet into a pair of trendy snow boots.

I leave my face bare of any makeup, without even a trace of my trademark dark lipstick.

Being back in this house doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies. No, it makes me want to run off into the night. Anxiety kicks boredom to the curb as I throw on a heavy wool coat, leaving it unbuttoned, and ignore looking in the full-sized mirror as I head out my bedroom door.

For the first time in years, I don’t have a single destination in mind.

My nerves are on edge, all those long-buried emotions bubbling to the surface. I shouldn’t have popped open Pandora’s box. What good did it do for me, anyway? Add little pinpricks of hurt to my soul after years of carefully removing them all from my childhood?

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