Читать книгу Flawed / Perfect - Cecelia Ahern, Cecelia Ahern - Страница 40

I stand naked in front of the mirror, my dressings removed. I hate what I see. My tears fall as my eyes run over the scars on my skin. They have taken away ownership of myself, and they have made me theirs. I want to rip the brandings from my skin. I look away from the mirror. I will never look at myself again. I will never let anyone else see my naked body. Not friends. Not a man. No one.

School is many different things to different people. It makes Juniper nervous, I know that. School is something she worries about constantly from the minute she goes to bed at night to the moment she returns home. She feels uncomfortable, restricted, maybe out of her depth. She can’t wait for it all to be over so she can get on with what she considers the more important parts of her life. She worries about homework, about getting answers wrong in class, about her exams and about what to wear. Her worrying isn’t because she’s lazy and doesn’t try or because she’s not clever. She’s smart. She is constantly working. She constantly talks about studying, doing study, trying on outfits, laying out clothes, starting again. She has one close friend, both of them glued to each other as they walk around the halls, heads together, sticking to themselves. They don’t want anybody else; they don’t need anybody else. They just want to get through it and be done with it.

For me, school is solid. I like going. I feel comfortable there. I look forward to each day. I don’t have any fears about it. I work hard but not so hard that I get bogged down or overly stressed. My teachers like me, and I like them. I don’t give them any trouble. I have a great group of friends. Six of us, three girls and three guys including me and Art, and one of which is Marlena, who spoke for me at the Guild. We have fun. We are neither nerdy nor jocks. We might be remembered; we might not. We just are.

But for the first time in my life, I am experiencing what Juniper must feel every morning. I debate long and hard over what to wear. Everything in my wardrobe represents being carefree to me, bought and worn by someone who blended in and had nothing to hide. I am not that person any more.