Page 5 of I Blame the Rival

“You are perfect, Lace. Never let anybody, including my dumbass, make you feel any different, okay?”

“Okay.” I whisper, afraid that anything louder will make the cracks appear.

He smacks a kiss atop my head, “You’ve got thirty minutes and then we’re on our way to Party Central. Got it?”

“Got it.”

I wait until he’s gone before I walk over and pull the envelope out of my bookshelf.

As much as Nico and my brother shower me with support, they don’t understand what it’s like to be the broken girl. To be composed of shards so sharp that sometimes I wonder whether this is my punishment. To be stuck with a darkness that never goes away, a past people are too scared to talk about, and thoughts too dark to voice aloud. I’ve been surrounded by love and support these last few years, but I’ve never felt so alone.

Until I met her.

Opening the envelope, I let the photographs fall onto my desk. At first glance, they look like pictures I took of my therapist’s sunshine yellow tissues – each one marked with a daily quote of inspiration – but if you look closer, you can see the handwriting covering the back of each one.

Happiness is not by chance but by choice.

But what if that choice doesn’t belong to you?

Then maybe it’s time to make it your own again.

I run a finger over the photo, tracing our first correspondence. I had found the tissue by accident, the bright yellow material had caught my eye before one of my therapy sessions and I had hastily written a reply, filled with hope that this stranger might be the friend I’ve been looking for. It seemed silly to take a photo of the tissue, but I wanted proof that I wasn’t alone, something to hold on to in case I never heard from her again.

Turns out, it was a good thing I took the photo because my mystery friend left me a new tissue the following week, but the original one had disappeared.

Don’t wish for it. Work for it.

Who took the choice from you?

A boy who didn’t deserve my time or affection. So, who is currently keeping your happiness just out of reach?

Some people look for a beautiful place. Others make a place beautiful.

A guy as well, although I have the misfortune of being related to him. Was your happiness-stealer a first love or just a tragic one?

First love. I was your typical naïve girl who fell for the wrong guy.

Every day may not be good, but there is good in every day.

I’m sure it wasn’t that simple.

You’re right, it wasn’t that simple, but it was embarrassing. Sometimes I think back on the girl I was and I get so angry it feels like I can’t breathe. The worst part is, I’m not even angry at the guy who hurt me. I’m angry at how easily I let myself be manipulated. I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear this.

A little improvement goes a long way. Take it day by day.

Never apologize for speaking your mind. Few people speak the honest truth, and it is not something to be ashamed of. As for your TedTalk, well, I really enjoyed it. Anger has always played a present part in my household, so I know a thing or two about feeling trapped in your own skin.

Honestly, I’m normally not this open with people. Karen has helped my communication skills (as I’m sure you know) but I don’t normally talk to strangers about my past. And yet here I am, opening up to someone whose name I don’t even know.

Even the smallest action can make a difference.

If it’s any consolation, I don’t normally talk to people like this either. My name is Skylar, by the way.

Skylar

It’s nice to meet you Skylar, my name is Lacey. I have to say, your name is almost as pretty as your handwriting. Are you an artist?

I tilt my head, rereading the girl’s response. There’s something strange about it, some sort of misassumption that I can’t quite put my finger on. I study the yellow tissue intently, as if it might conjure up an image of the girl I’ve spent the last few weeks talking to.

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