This Much Is True by Katherine Owen Read Free Book Online

laid. These particular pastimes have become so absent from my life since the middle of February that I’ve forgotten how to have fun. The respite in the Caribbean just led me to question myself and my motives.
    I’ve been busy keeping it together for my parents and Tommy serving as the perfect daughter and big sister. All this good behavior is warranted, especially since my parents reluctantly agreed to let me go to New York with Tremblay and Marla again this summer. It may lead to a winter term with SAB if things go the way they’re supposed to and may lead straight to the New York City Ballet internship if miracles ever happen for me again. Yet we’re all still broken and swamped with so much grief over Holly that there appears to be no way out of it for any of us. My family still walks around the house in a sad stupor. We barely talk. We never have dinner together anymore. Memorial Day weekend is unplanned, unprepared, and unwelcome at the Landons. My mother has effectively shunned all the neighbors’ good intentions. She doesn’t leave the house anymore. The only thing that changes is the level line on the vodka bottle that I started marking off weeks ago. My parents probably think I don’t notice, but I do.
    This truth is I don’t know who I really am at this point. I used to do things—fun things. I’d attend parties every so often, drink frilly drinks and do shots, and have random sex with reckless abandon with guys who were willing, while all the while maintaining a clear, dedicated focus on my ballet career at all times. I was rebellious Tally. I did what I wanted while Holly followed the rules and willingly played the part of the perfect daughter. Look where that got her? Now with me serving in that role, my personal sacrifice hasn’t even been noticed by my parents. It hasn’t changed anything. My family still slowly decays right in front of me. My parents are under a great deal of stress. I see their pain every time I look at them. We all seem to be falling apart in slow motion.
    So does being perfect really change anything? Would we all be better off if I just stopped trying to be perfect and was just myself? These thoughts come in on me swiftly. Have I been doing it all wrong? Is the secret to surviving the loss of Holly just trying to feel something and be myself again?
    I spin the dial on my lock on the locker, which is located right next to Marla’s, and try not to look over at Holly’s on the other side. Some brilliant wonder on the student council thought it would be a good idea to make Holly’s locker into some kind of shrine. There are cards and dead flowers and unlit candles (because the district has a strict policy against actually lighting them) strewn about. There’s a Tinker Bell balloon that’s begun to lose its helium. Dead. Like Holly. ‘We miss you’ it says in a black script. It limps up and down with every student who passes by stirring the lifeless air all around it. I shiver. Who’s going to clean all this up? I’m pulled from my concentrated study of Holly’s shrine back to reality when Marla puts her arm around my shoulders and vies for my undivided attention.
    “After pointe class. I’ll come over and pick you up. I’ve got a few things you can borrow.”
    “This just gets better and better.”
    Marla rolls her eyes at my obvious reluctance and closely scrutinizes my standard attire of black jeans and matching T-shirt. “ Please .”
    I sigh heavily after another ten seconds of her please, please, please plead. “All right. I’ll find something of Holly’s to wear, and you can pick me up a little after eight.”
    “Good. That’ll give me time to re-do your make-up.”
    “What makes you think my make-up will need to be re-done?”
    “We need to look older, more sophisticated. The über-talented ballet girl isn’t going to cut it tonight.” Marla laughs. “These guys are older. Remember?”
    “Right.” I check my dance gym bag and ensure I have an extra