I'm Not Her by Janet Gurtler Read Free Book Online Page B

mean streak in her voice makes her sound harsh. I wonder if it’s always been there and I never bothered to notice before. I wonder if I sound the same way.
    I shake my head again and press my lips tight.
    “Were the volleyball girls doing the girl-kissing-girl thing?”
    I regret telling Melissa about the time Kristina and her friends dared each other to kiss at a sleepover at our house. Mom and Dad went out to a university party and one of the girls brought wine coolers and they’d knocked them back and got silly. I’d spied the kissing when I’d gone to the kitchen for a snack.
    “No.” I snap and slide my lock in place and shut it. “It’s not like she’s a slut. And she doesn’t get drunk. A waste of her precious calories.”
    Melissa sucks in a quick breath and stands straighter, tugging on the strap of the backpack slung over her shoulder. She carries it around all day instead of ditching it in her locker, mostly I think because she keeps stashes of chocolate bars and snacks in it. It doesn’t seem fair the way our metabolisms work, but we don’t really talk about it. Her stepmom is on her case about losing weight, even in front of me. She tells Melissa to ask God for help controlling her appetite. I haven’t seen God giving out helpful diet advice though. Melissa also has a skinny little stepsister, which doesn’t help. She can’t stand her sister and I think weight is half the problem.
    I glance away from Melissa. Of course the first thing I spot on the wall is a poster for a rally in the gym, featuring an action shot of Kristina. She’s high off the ground, her arm high in the air, about to spike a volleyball over the net.
    “The party was stupid,” I say to end the conversation. For the first time in my life, I lie by omission to my best friend. I don’t mention how Kristina dragged me around the party like a loser. I don’t tell her about Jeremy taking our picture or how he kind of stalked me in the parking lot on Kristina’s behalf. It seems trivial now.
    Melissa stares at me, as if I’ve somehow betrayed her. But I can’t play the game.
    She finally says, “Oh,” and glares at me as if trying to snap me out of my quiet mood. Then she frowns. “Well, I have to get to class.” She spins away from me and marches off, getting caught up in the crowd of kids rushing around, without even checking in to make sure my homework is done. My stomach flutters with dread because, for the first time ever, the answer to Melissa’s question would be no. I’ve actually come to school with an assignment only half-finished.
    I wait for a break in the swarming bodies and then jump in, joining the flow toward my art class, and realize I didn’t even tell her about the Oswald Drawing Prize, knowing she’d moan and groan about how with my family money, I shouldn’t go after scholarships or awards. I imagine explaining it’s not about the money, but that winning will change my life. But now, even without the Drawing Prize, that’s already happened. It doesn’t mean I should give up my dreams too, does it? I head down the hall contemplating it, and spot the gaggle of volleyball girls surrounding the water fountain outside my classroom.
    All of the girls are tall and thin with identical low-riding jeans and long ponytails sprouting from their heads. I duck my head down quickly and try to get past unseen.
    “Hey, Kristina’s sister!”
    Gee stares at me. Gee is her nickname, anyhow. The volleyball girls all have cute nicknames for each other, like Gee and Cee and Bree, but they can’t be bothered to remember mine, even though they’ve been to my house a million times with Kristina.
    “Where’s Tee?” Gee says. “We have volleyball practice at noon.”
    Pretty, eager faces stare at me.
    “Um, she’s sick,” I say, wishing they would ignore me and leave me alone like they’re supposed to. It’s only her first missed day of school and they’re on me already?
    “So?” Gee says and flips her