Page 67 of Something Rad
Doing something stupid.
Failure.
Regret.
I swipe through the clothes hangers in my closet, past all of my more decent but less comfortable clothes, and end up opting for an old sweater and my favorite worn jeans. I slip the clothes on then walk over to where I kicked off my Keds by my bed last night. I crouch down and reach out, but pause, my hand brushing against something under my bed. I immediately register what it is, the blood draining from my face. I blow out a deep breath before raising my bed skirt, finding the large envelope containing my acceptance letter to NYU and admissions information packet. Right where I left it.
I pull the envelope out slowly, running my fingers over where my mom wroteCongrats!on the outside of the envelope and drew several hearts in purple pen. I sigh, letting my eyes fall shut.
What are you so afraid of?
I stand up straight, bringing the envelope with me as I walk over to my vanity.
I’m afraid of all the things I thought of before. It’s the truth. But, as scared as I am of those things, I have to ask myself,What am I scared of even more?
I set the packet down on top of the vanity, looking at myself in the mirror once again.
Complacency. Apathy. Indifference. Contentment. Withdrawal.
Never putting myself out there. Not believing in myself. Being a fool.
Being too scared to take a chance. Being my own worst enemy.
Never doing anything with my life.
Failure.
Regret.
My shoulders slowly relax, my jaw unclenching.
“Screw it.”
I make a beeline for my closet, ripping my sweater and jeans off and flicking back through the hangers.
I come out two minutes later, a light sheen of sweat across my forehead from shimmying into the first pair of pantyhose I’ve worn in months and my nicest red skirt and blouse. I fasten a thick belt around my waist before crouching down to get back under my bed, feeling around for my black loafers I only wear strictly to special occasions.
If I’m playing a part, I’m going to play it all the way. I’ve never done anything halfway in life, and I’m not about to start now.
I gulp the moment the loafers are on my feet, still feeling uneasy but trying to ignore it. I glance at the clock, seeing I have a few more minutes before I have to walk to the bus stop. I decide to pop over to my bathroom one more time, teasing my hair a little extra and adding one or two more puffs of hairspray than is probably necessary.
Taking a page out of the Robbie Summers handbook, I tell myself, then instantly feel a wave of nausea bubbling in my stomach at the reminder of what’s about to happen. What I’m about to agree to.
I put in a pair of hoop earrings and glide my favorite red lipstick on, then head back to my room, shoving my journal and work vest into my backpack before slinging it over my shoulder and walking into the kitchen to grab a granola bar from the pantry.
Am I really doing this? Am I really about to actually commit to this scheme? Am I really about to make this incredibly stupid decision?
A voice in the back of my head wonders if a decision can be stupid and good at the same time. Stupid andright.
I run a hand down my face, not knowing what I’m thinking, or feeling, and being so grateful that I can at least pretend this isn’t happening for another hour or so. That I have until second period until I actually have to face this problem.
I unlock the front door, pulling the handle.
I start to think through exactly what it is that I’m going to say when that time comes, and tell myself that I’ll spend the entire bus ride to school rehearsing it.
I have plenty of time–
The granola bar falls from my hands, bouncing off of my loafer and skittering onto the top step of my front porch.
