Just Another Girl

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  Just like that, it all comes together in my head. Each piece of the equation begins to fall into place. Parker’s parents have left (which I still don’t understand), she lives with her sister in a trailer, she has to work two jobs …

  Oh my God. That’s why she eats so much at lunch. That’s why Mom keeps giving her all that food. That’s why Mom fusses over her. That’s why Parker was beaming at dinner that night we went out to celebrate my grade. She was around a family.

  Brady’s right: A ride and a meal aren’t a big deal to us.

  It’s official: I’m the worst human being in the world.

  But how could I have known? Especially if it’s been this huge secret.

  One that my mom knew.

  Brady starts rubbing his palms against his eyes.

  Over the course of my sixteen years, I’ve witnessed Brady Lambert display a ton of emotions: happy, bummed, nervous, excited, embarrassed—you name it. But he’s never been like this. He’s angry, but not at Parker. At himself. But it’s more than that—there’s a desperation in him that I’ve never seen. He’s absolutely demolished inside.

  “Brady, it’s okay,” I assure him as he continues to walk around the room, his hands now balled up into fists. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  All I’ve done is think about me. For years, oh hell, for my entire life, it’s been all about Hope. What I want. What I don’t have. I could blame it on being an only child and being spoiled by my parents, but at the end of the day, I need to be accountable for my actions.

  Madelyn once urged me to put myself in Parker’s shoes, and I couldn’t really do it because I didn’t know the truth. Now I think about it. About what it must be like not to have family around. To live in a trailer. To have to work two jobs and still do schoolwork.

  But I also never thought about Brady’s feelings. He’s torn up over what Parker’s going through. He’s berating himself because he doesn’t think he’s doing enough. He thinks he’s making it worse. He’s this worked up because he truly loves her. He’s protected her, not only her secret, but Parker. That’s probably why she spends the night at his house.

  I never have to think about such simple things as where my next meal is coming from. But she does.

  Poor Parker.

  I stop telling Brady everything will be okay, because I have no idea if that’s true.

  “I can’t believe it,” I say when I finally find my voice. “I just can’t …”

  He stops abruptly in front of me. A look of panic crosses his face. “You didn’t know, did you?”

  I can barely breathe. I know Brady, but he also knows me. He can smell the deceit on me. “I-I—” I stammer, trying to come up with something that will make him not hate me.

  “Are you even kidding me?” he screams. His face is now changing to a dangerous beet color from anger. Now aimed at me. Which I totally deserve. “You lied to me?”

  “I didn’t …” But I did. I get up to try to stop him from walking out of the room. I want him to look me in the eyes and know I didn’t mean any harm.

  “I can’t believe you, Hope. I’ve always trusted you. But now …” He shakes his head as he storms out of my room. I jump when the door slams behind him.

  I stand there for a few moments to try to process everything that has transpired. My head hurts. My heart hurts. I fall back on the bed and burst into tears.

  What the hell just happened?

  2 DAYS AFTER

  Fourth place.

  After everything we went through and all the changes and challenges we faced, all we managed was fourth place. Sure, there were over twenty entries, but still.

  Fourth place.

  The club is over. While Conor and I have next year, Dan and Brady are done.

  Brady and I are … I don’t know. He wouldn’t look at me during the competition. Every plea and apology went unanswered.

  There’s no other way to say this, but the drive home absolutely sucked. Not only because we didn’t win, but because Brady insisted on driving back with the guys. So my mom decided to ride with me and spent the two-hour drive telling me how proud she was of our machine (that was successful, except for the second run-through, where the fan button didn’t work so we had to reset it) and me (who has failed on so many levels).

  I know, I know, after finally hearing the truth about Parker I should be even more grateful for such a supportive mother, but it stings that she’s kept something so big from me. That she and Parker had this shared secret between them.

  It only hits me now that my dad probably knows, too.

  I spent yesterday sending multiple texts to Brady, which became more and more desperate as the day went on:

  I’m sorry. Mom’s making a special batch of cookies just for you.

  Please talk to me. You have no idea how bad I feel.

  I didn’t mean to lie. I wanted you to finally talk to me. Please talk to me.

  What can I do to make this up to you? Name it. You know me, Brady. I’d never do anything to hurt you.

  Please don’t hate me. I hate myself enough for the both of us.

  All unanswered.

  I’ve screwed up, big time.

  But now that I’m walking into school, he can’t ignore me. I don’t even know what I want him to say to me. He doesn’t owe me any other explanation about Parker’s history, but what about our history? Yeah, I made a huge mistake, but why is it always so easy for him to shut me out?

  Madelyn is waiting for me at the front door. “Hey! I wanted to give the champion a proper welcome into school.” She holds out a brown paper bag from the coffee shop.

  “I don’t see any champions here,” I reply, and open the bag. It contains a chocolate glazed donut, my favorite.

  Madelyn tilts her head at me. “Hope, you should be really proud of your machine. It was amazing. You didn’t win, but you still placed ahead of almost twenty teams. You have every reason to hold your head high.”

  I nod slightly at her because I know she’s right. I should be happy we did as well in our first regional competition, but … (And there’s that word again. Guilty as charged.)

  My dark mood doesn’t solely have to do with the machine—it has to do with everything. I didn’t come back from Cleveland with only a fourth place showing. I came back with the weight of what I learned.

  Madelyn looks around the hallway before she places her hand on my shoulder and leans in. “Are you okay? You haven’t been yourself—you hardly said two words to me yesterday.” Madelyn greeted me at home when we arrived with a sign that read JUDGES BE STOOPID, which had managed to crack a smile on my face.

  “I think I’m a little burned out.” It’s the only thing I can think to say to her, even though it’s partially true. I can’t tell her the whole truth. I already betrayed Brady; I can’t, in a weird way, also betray Parker. Not like she has any idea that I know.

  “Of course you are!” Madelyn replies, as she puts her arm around my back as I walk to my locker. “We’re going to do a sloth-and-gluttony-filled weekend. You’ve earned it. Look at all you’ve done. You’ve been working nonstop. You should get some medal for being the hardest working student in this school.”

  I wince slightly because I now know who really deserves a medal (and so much more).

  “You good?” she asks as we reach the point in the hallway where we have to separate.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks,” I reply with the best smile I can manage as I wave good-bye to Madelyn.

  I scan the hallway for Brady, to see if he’ll finally accept my apology, although I’m not quite sure I deserve it.

  “Hope!” I freeze as I hear Parker call out my name.

  I’d been so focused on Brady (what a shock), that it didn’t register with me that I would also see Parker today. How can I even look her in the eye after how I’ve treated her? I shouldn’t simply feel bad about my behavior because I know about her circumstances, I should feel bad because she’s a human being. Nobody deserves to be tr
eated that coldly (present company included, Brady).

  I turn around and focus on her feet. “Hey, Parker.”

  “Congratulations on fourth place. I know you guys were hoping to win, but that’s pretty impressive.”

  “Thanks.” I notice her brown ankle boots are really worn. When was the last time she was able to get new shoes?

  “I got a call from work that they need me to come in for the early shift after school. Would you mind if we did our tutoring session tomorrow instead?”

  “That’s fine.” I wonder if there’s a way I can get her a new pair of shoes without her being suspicious.

  “Is everything okay?” Her voice is soft. I still can’t look at her.

  “I’m fine,” I lie. “A little down after our finish.” Which is true.

  “Oh, okay …”

  “I gotta get to my locker.” I turn on my heel and walk as far away from Parker as possible.

  I’m so conflicted. I’ve resented Parker since the second I met her. It’s not like her circumstances change the way I think about her as a person, but I can’t help but feel really bad about everything she’s been through. There’s a part of me that realizes even if I did know the truth, it wouldn’t have stopped me from trying to take Brady away from her.

  And I hate myself for it.

  But it’s not like Parker and I can be friends now. We’re so different. We don’t even hang out in the same circle.

  Would I even be a real friend if I were only nice to her out of pity?

  I need to see it with my own eyes.

  I don’t know why, but my mind is having trouble wrapping itself around everything I learned. So I find myself driving at nine o’clock at night to the one trailer park outside of town. I had to look it up online because until Brady mentioned it, I had no idea it even existed. Talk about a life of privilege (and blissful ignorance).

  I see the sign for River’s Edge, turn into the entrance, and put my dimmers on so I hopefully won’t be recognized. Not like it’ll help much. When your dad gets you a shiny new red car for your sixteenth birthday, you sort of stand out.

  There are about four rows of trailers. Some are surprisingly big with porches and window boxes filled with flowers.

  Maybe it’s not so bad.

  I turn the corner to find a few that are tiny and look a little worse for wear. Since it’s dark, I can see inside the ones that have lights on and their curtains open. I slow the car down as I start looking into each trailer. My foot slams on the brakes when I spot the top of Parker’s head in the back of one of the smaller trailers. She has a blanket wrapped around her and a wool hat on. That trailer is white with a blue stripe, but there’s rust dotting the entire outside. I see the wood paneling behind her, but nothing else. Her head is down like she’s reading something or studying.

  Headlights from another car flash in my rearview mirror and I step on the gas and head toward the exit.

  I don’t know what to think besides the fact that life isn’t fair. Not because I don’t have a boyfriend or I carry a few extra pounds. This is what isn’t right with the world.

  Parker shouldn’t have to live like this.

  I always thought I knew what I wanted: a boyfriend, a perfect body, to not have to study so much, for things to come easy for me. But now I think about what I do have: a family, a house, security …

  Now I have no idea what I want.

  Something happened in Cleveland.

  I’ve never been the jealous-girlfriend type, mostly because I’ve had bigger issues to deal with than dating. However, Brady’s been acting strange since he got back from Cleveland. He’s quiet and won’t look me in the eye. At first I chalked it up to being disappointed in not winning, but I can tell something else is going on.

  “I have to work after school,” I tell him as he pulls into the parking lot Monday morning.

  “Okay,” he replies. It’s the first word he’s spoken in nearly ten minutes.

  “I’m going to have Lila take me.”

  “Okay.”

  We get out of the car and walk toward school. Usually he wraps his arm around me, but instead his arms are clutching his backpack, his gaze on the ground.

  I look around the hallways, wondering if I could find a clue as to why he’s being so distant, but I can only come up with one explanation: Hope.

  He was with her all weekend. There was a hotel.

  Here I thought I could trust Brady. Unfortunately, I’ve been fooled one too many times with people I’ve assumed I could trust. Like my parents. And Hayley.

  Things with my sister have gotten even worse. There’s a new guy she’s been bringing home, Evan. His hands always linger around my waist when he insists on hugging me every time he sees me. His lips get a little too close when he whispers in my ear. I’ve debated bringing it up to Hayley, but I’ve been in this circumstance before and she accused me of hitting on the guy. I don’t need yet another wedge placed between us. There’s already too much distance and contempt.

  I had to spend five dollars on a fabric refresher because I can’t seem to get his cigarette smoke out of my clothes. I’m now going over to Lila’s twice a week to do laundry. I keep my clothes tied tightly in a plastic bag, but all it takes is one visit from Evan and everything reeks. Ms. Porter even pulled me aside one day after class to see if I’d started smoking.

  At least you can quit smoking. It’s harder to quit family. Unless you’re my parents.

  “I got to talk to Dan,” Brady mutters before heading down the hallway. We always walk to class together. Or at least there’s a quick kiss or a hug, something to hold on to. I’ve never been the needy type, but I grasp on to whatever normalcy remains in my life. Piece by piece things have begun to slip away from me, and I fear Brady is next.

  I turn down another hallway to get some distance from Brady and my thoughts, when I see Hope walking up ahead.

  Before I can think everything through, I call out her name. Things with us have gotten a little bit better. At least she doesn’t seem to resent me as much. However, there’s something else that’s pulling me toward her. I need to see how she’ll act around me to confirm if my suspicions are correct.

  She turns around, but her gaze remains at the floor. “Hey, Parker.”

  I look down at the floor as well, trying to figure out why both Brady and Hope seem to find it so interesting as of late. Although there’s a sinking feeling in my empty gut that I already know why. Maybe Hope finally got what she’s always wanted.

  But that can’t be it, can it?

  Am I so dependent on Brady that I’m willing to turn a blind eye to the growing evidence that something clearly happened between the two of them?

  Perhaps it’s simply because of their fourth-place finish. As someone who’s been struggling to stay above water for so long, I’d be thrilled with fourth place in anything.

  “Congratulations on fourth place. I know you guys were hoping to win, but that’s pretty impressive.” I give her a smile, but she doesn’t notice it since her focus is on my feet. Now I feel self-conscious about my ratty boots. I’m lucky my feet have stopped growing so I haven’t needed to buy new shoes in a while, but clearly I’m due for a new pair.

  “Thanks.” Her knee starts shaking as if she’s nervous.

  “I got a call from work that they need me to come in for the early shift after school. Would you mind if we did our tutoring session tomorrow instead?”

  “That’s fine.”

  She doesn’t seem mad at me, which is a nice change. She doesn’t even come off as guilty about what may or may not have happened. Honestly, if Hope did hook up with Brady, she’d probably dance around the hallways. No, Hope isn’t happy. In fact, she seems really sad. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m fine. A little down after our finish.”

  “Oh, okay.” I look around the hallway to make sure nobody can hear me. I’m about to tell her she can talk to me, when she abruptly states she has to get to her locker and leaves.
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  Maybe it really is the fourth-place finish that has them behaving suspiciously, but I can’t shake the feeling it’s something else.

  And it has to do with me.

  I haven’t had a lot of good days in the past year.

  Most days have been bearable, but that’s it. However, I did have one of my favorite days in the last month when Hope got a B on her test. Going home with Hope and seeing her mom’s reaction made me ache for a mom. Not my mom, but a mom like that. But instead of being sad, I was actually happy because I felt like part of a family that day.

  Hope’s mom insisted I go out to dinner with them. Her parents asked me how my day was and seemed interested in me as a person. I wasn’t a hindrance to them or a chore. I was someone they genuinely wanted to know about. They made sure I had plenty to eat and forced leftovers on me. I didn’t protest because I could tell they wanted to help me. They cared.

  It was touching to have a parent want to take care of me.

  I’m sixteen. Someone should be taking care of me.

  I know so many of my friends talk about how they can’t wait to go off to college, to be independent and on their own.

  Let me tell you something: Being on your own is overrated. I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen. It’s not fun. It’s exhausting.