On Friday night my family had dinner together. It was quiet as my mother put steaming plates down in front of us. She put a napkin in her collar and smiled. She was acting very formal lately.
“How was everyone’s day?” she said, taking a bite of asparagus.
I looked at my plate. Great. Now I would have smelly pee.
“Fine,” my father said. He didn’t look fine. He wasn’t sleeping much lately. “Busy.”
“What did you do after work?” she asked. It didn’t seem like a real question.
He stared at her across the table. “Some errands.”
Her eyes drifted to the beer on the table. The living room was full of empties.
“I see.”
I glanced between them and cut a piece of dry chicken. It was quiet for a moment.
“I got called in to see my boss today,” my mom said. “I am getting a promotion.”
“Congratulations,” my dad said.
“More money, more time at the office. The usual. Might be some later hours.”
She was already working later hours, so I wondered how late she would be now.
“Sara and I can prepare dinner,” Daddy said.
I glanced at him. Whenever my mom was away, he just ordered pizza.
“Perfect,” she said, taking another bite of asparagus. “Starting Monday. I think I am going to go out with some colleagues next Friday to celebrate.”
He stared at her for a long time, but I wasn’t sure why. It seemed reasonable.
“Where are you going for dinner?” he asked.
She glanced at him. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s a surprise, then?”
I put my fork down. I sensed there were two conversations and I could only hear one.
“I guess it is,” my mother said.
“Maybe Sara and I can come.”
“It’s for work.”
“I think it would be nice if we all celebrated your promotion.”
She hesitated and my father nodded.
“Maybe next time,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Maybe next time. We are all due for a night out.”
My father picked up his half-eaten dinner and went to the kitchen, and I heard him dump it all out into the garbage. My mother and I ate in silence.
I went to the park the next day, but James wasn’t there. I waited for two hours in the cold and then went home disappointed. I knew his last name was Bennett from the contact he put in my phone, and I had looked him up and found an address the same day. I wrote it down and tucked it away, telling myself it was just for emergencies.
Obviously, I couldn’t just go to his house. Could I?
No. Of course not.
This was all very confusing. I had never had a crush. Well, not on a real person. I’d had lots of fictional crushes, mostly the sad and forlorn: Severus Snape, Sydney Carton, even Piggy.
But this was new. It was weird, illogical behavior. Why did I look up his address? Why did I go to the park today even though it was cold and damp? Why was I staring at my rules for being normal and reading the same rule about James over and over like it was the only one?
I sat on my bed and toyed with the Star Child bracelet. I only wore it when I was seeing Erin, and mostly I just kept it in a drawer. A month ago, I was Psycho Sara. I hated her, but I understood her. Quiet. Afraid. Reclusive. Now I had made a friend, and had a crush, and things were confusing. I could hardly keep up. But it was good. It had to be, right?
I slipped off the bracelet and tucked it back in the drawer. I really was grateful for the gift. But I didn’t need more made-up words and excuses to be different. I had enough of those.
My dad was on the couch downstairs, surrounded by a little garden of beer bottles. He patted the spot beside him when he saw me, throwing a heavy, sagging arm around my shoulders.
“Come to watch some football?” he said.
“You know that I hate football.”
He laughed. “Excited for the movies tonight? You know, you only used to go with me.”
“I’m too cool for that now,” I replied, leaning into his chest.
“I knew the day would come.” He took a deep swig of beer. “Will James be there?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Just Erin and me.”
“Hmm. Should we talk about boys? I.e., how I will kill any of them that come near you?”
“Mom talks too much,” I muttered.
“You’re twelve,” he said. “No dating until you are forty. Not a day earlier.”
“Seems extreme.”
“I thought fifty was unreasonable.” He sighed. “We are proud of you, Princess.”
I glanced at him. “For what?”
“For doing this group therapy. For making a friend.”
“I think making a friend is pretty commonplace.”
“For some,” he agreed. “But we all get to set our own goalposts.”
I groaned. “You ruined it with the football reference.”
He pulled me in and gave me a noogie until I was laughing and trying to get away. I ended up under his arm again, hair everywhere, exhausted, face wet from the tears.
“You know, you can’t noogie me now that I’m cooler than you,” I muttered.
“If anything, I think I have to do it more. Make sure you don’t get a big head.”
I laughed. “Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
I was supposed to pretend. I was going to. But … I had to be ready. Just in case.
“Are you and Mom getting a divorce?”
He was quiet for a moment. “No. It’s just a bad time. Don’t you worry about it.”
“I’m not stupid.”
He snorted. “If anything, you are too smart for your own good. We’re fine.”
When you want to believe something, it’s easier to pretend. I smiled and stood up.
“I’m going to go do anything in the world except watch football.”
“You know, you might like it one day. Some girls fall for football players.”
I grunted and started for the kitchen. “I can assure you that I will never be one of them.”
Erin’s mom dropped us off in front of the theater. I had spent most of the car ride wondering where Erin had gotten her chattiness. It certainly wasn’t from her dad. Erin talked the whole way about school and boys and her outfit—she was wearing jeans and a new pink sweater—and about how much popcorn she was going to eat. My dad had given me twenty dollars. I hoped it was going to be enough.
“You sure your mother is okay to come get you later?” Erin’s mom asked.
I nodded, and she drove off without another word. Erin grabbed my arm and started for the entrance, practically skipping along. She had her hair curled and done up, eyebrows drawn on. She hadn’t been able to come over an hour early, since her mom wanted to drive us there and not home, so only she had any makeup on. I was just wearing a hoodie with my hair in a ponytail.
“I haven’t been out with a friend in, like, two years,” she said. “This is awesome. I’m going to eat ten bags of popcorn. I bet there will be cute boys everywhere. How do I look?”
“Nice.”
“Nice?”
I paused. “Beautiful? Transcendent? Radiant—”
“Thank you,” she said, giving me a queenly nod. “You may continue once we sit down.”
The lobby was busy. There were a lot of kids, some close to our age and most older, and I felt my breathing go shallow as we picked our way to ticket machines.
As Erin bought tickets, I glanced around, my skin prickling. So many people and eyes and voices and all of them strangers. Maybe this was a bad idea. We could still head home.
I felt Erin’s hand slip over mine.
“Come on,” she said. “I already got your ticket.”
She led me to the snack counter, and I gave her my twenty. She got us two drinks and two popcorns and quickly led us toward the theater. She kept shooting me reassuring looks, shifting her fingers on mine, clammy as they were. I was reprimanding myself. This was stupid. I shouldn’t have come. I was going to have a freak-out and everyone was going to stare and—
“Let’s just get seated,” Erin whispered, pulling me into the darkness.
We found seats near the back, in the corner, and she turned to me.
“You’re doing great. We’re in now.”
“I don’t know—”
She squeezed my hand and turned to me. “Just try. If you need to go, we’ll leave.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath. She was right. We were tucked away in the corner now, in a dark theater, where no one was supposed to talk anyway. I focused on Erin’s voice, making sure I nodded and smiled and did all the right things to show my brain we could relax. I could almost hear Dr. Ring: Ground yourself. Breathe. Don’t drift. Stay focused.
The lights dimmed, the previews started, and I focused on the movie. It was a romantic comedy, and not very good, but Erin laughed and we spilled popcorn and I didn’t panic once.
When the lights came on, I was still in my seat. A sense of relief swept over me. Pride, even. I had gone out to a movie theater. No breaks. No calls home. Not a single panic attack.
Erin sighed and stretched, yawning. “What did you think?”
“Good,” I said. “It was really good.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she replied, laughing. “But I know what you mean.”
I noticed that some of her makeup had smeared. One of her eyebrows was mostly gone. I kept quiet.
We were leaving, and I didn’t want to upset her.
We filed out at the tail end of the crowd, and I sent a text to my mom to come pick us up. We made our way to the front doors of the lobby and waited there. It was late November and the temperature had dropped sharply.
Of course, everyone else who needed a ride was waiting there too. It was busy and loud, and most of the people there were groups of kids like us, all bunched into little, noisy circles. A group of older boys was standing a few feet away. One of them looked over at us.
“Ugh, does every boy have to look at you?” Erin said, grinning.
I had quickly looked away. He went to my school. An eighth grader named Kevin. The others went to my school too. They knew about me. I tensed, stomach clenching right up again.
“Of course, they may be taking in my perfect eyebrows,” she added.
She touched them subconsciously, and I hoped we could leave soon. Then I heard the laughter. I tried not to listen.
“Psycho Sara is here?” one of them was saying. “And she has a friend!”
“I got to take a picture.”
“Think she talks to her?”
I decided we could deal with a bit of cold. But it was too late. Erin was watching now.
“Are they talking about you?” she asked quietly.
“No,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”
“We need to get her face in the photo,” one of the boys said. “Psst … Sara—”
Erin stepped toward them, hands planted on her hips. “Can we help you?”
They burst out laughing. I felt my insides curling up. Her eyebrows. The makeup.
“Her face is falling off,” Kevin said, snorting.
Erin flushed a brilliant red, her hands going to her eyebrows. “What are you—”
I grabbed her arm to go. I couldn’t talk. Not with them watching and laughing.
But she was already feeling her face, her fingers brushing over her last few eyelashes.
“They’re both nuts,” Kevin muttered.
“Quiet, man—” one of his friends said, even though he was laughing.
“I’m just saying—”
“Saying what?” Erin shouted. She took another step toward them. “Go ahead!”
Everyone was looking at us now. My throat seized up.
“Nothing,” Kevin said, waving her away. “Go hang out with Psycho Sara, freak.”
“Stop calling her that!” Erin snapped.
“You’re missing a spot,” a boy said, tapping his eyebrow. “Got a pen?”
I tried to grab Erin’s hand. The wheel was spinning fast now. A Game was coming.
But Erin just folded her arms and glared at them.
“Sorry if it offends you,” she snarled. “I will remember that next time I get ready.”
One of the boys had the decency to blush. The others didn’t.
“You got cancer?” Kevin asked.
“No, I don’t have cancer,” she snapped. “I have a disorder. And stupid people don’t help.”
I could feel my heart pounding now. I put my finger to my pulse. False Alarm for sure. My breath was short, stomach clenched, skin fiery. I could feel myself drifting away. Maybe it was real this time. Maybe it wasn’t a False Alarm. Maybe I really was dying this time. This is how it always went. I always forgot why I called it False Alarm when the panic started. My heartbeat was going much faster now.
“Leave her, man,” one of the boys said. “She’s nuts.”
“I am nuts!” Erin shouted. “We both are! Happy? At least we’re not jerks!”
“You do belong with Psycho Sara,” Kevin said.
The words started echoing around in my skull. Psycho psycho psycho. Why was I here?
I could feel the sweat beading now and tears forming. I had to leave. Otherwise I might just curl up on the spot or scream or maybe die right here, and my daddy would find me, and and and … I went for the glass doors. I had to get out. I didn’t say anything to Erin. I just ran.
“Sara!” Erin shouted.
I could hear the laughing as she chased after me. I kept running. I didn’t know where I was going. Anywhere but here.
“Sara!” Erin caught me by the curb, looking around for my father’s car. “Hey!”
“Why did you do that?” I demanded, hand at my neck, trying to count my pulse.
It was so fast. Too fast. Heart attack. No. Relax. Just a panic attack.
“What?”
“Make a scene! Tell them we’re … we’re crazy. We could have just gone somewhere else.”
She frowned. “They were insulting us. I could have used backup, if anything.”
Erin turned away, muttered something to herself, and then turned back.
“No, I’m sorry … I know you don’t talk in public,” she said. “I’m just all worked up right now. Hey, are you all right?”
She tried to grab at my arm, but I wrenched it away, falling down into a crouch.
“No,” I managed, gasping. “I can’t breathe.”
“It’s a panic attack. Just take it easy—”
“We were doing good,” I said, my eyes watering. “We were so close.”
“To what?” she asked, crouching down beside me.
“A normal night.”
She snorted. “Normal. I forgot your big goal. Being normal. Whatever that means.”
“Not this!” I said, and pressed my finger to my neck, counting heartbeats. Too fast.
She grabbed my arm. “We are not normal.”
I pulled away, trying to breathe through my nose, trying to think of something happy, trying not to feel the weights that were suddenly strapped to my arms and legs, pulling me down.
“I am trying,” I said.
“And it’s going great,” Erin said. “Really. ’Cause it’s normal to not have eyebrows and eyelashes because I pull them out every time they grow. It’s normal that I cry in the mirror every morning and swear I won’t do it again but I do every single time. We are Star Children, Sara—”
“There’s no such thing as Star Children!” I snapped. “It’s a game. Make-believe!”
I was talking, but my brain was screaming, “I want to go home! I don’t want to die here!” and it all seemed so loud. There were cars pulling up, kids coming out, and I fell silent. That was smarter. Speaking had taken me here. Out of my shell before I was ready. And now I was dying.
“It’s about us being special,” Erin said quietly. “It’s not a game.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “It’s about us lying to ourselves. We have real issues, and we’re not helping each other by pretending we don’t. I just want to be better. Normal—”
“Stop saying normal!” she shrieked. “What does that mean? Huh? What is normal?”
My eyes flooded with tears. “Like everyone else here. You know what I mean.”
“Not like me?” Erin said. “Is that it? More like James?”
I wiped my face. I didn’t want my dad to see me crying. I just had to breathe.
“I just want to get better.”
She stood up. “And that means you don’t need Star Children around, I guess? Huh?”
“No,” I said, taking deep breaths, trying to slow down my heart. “Maybe I don’t.”
Erin stared at me for a moment, nodded, then wiped her eyes. We waited there like that. She stood and looked at nothing, and I crouched until my heart started to slow.
The ride home was quiet, and my dad stopped trying to talk after a while. Erin said nothing when we dropped her off, besides “Thank you, Mr. Malvern.”
Then she was gone, and when we got home, I said I was tired and no, nothing was wrong, and I sat on my bed and panicked again.
When it passed, I was too tired to brush my teeth. I just lay in bed with my clothes on, pulling the blanket over me. I had no texts. No missed calls. I was too tired and angry to write one either. Tired of being sick, and angry about it too. Angry that no matter what, the sickness always came back.
I didn’t want to make Erin upset, but maybe it was for the best. I didn’t need stars. I needed normal.
Tomorrow, I will be better, I told myself. Tomorrow.