Genevieve Carter has got it all. The house, the friends, the looks, the family, even the perfectly planned future. Vieve has always felt lucky. She knows what it means to be Genevieve Carter, and she's never know anything else.
And then came Alex.
❣...
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I run down the stairs swiftly twisting my hair up into a thick ponytail. Knocking on Vivienne's door, I'm suddenly bombarded by a little blonde girl hugging onto my stomach. "Hey Viv, got up early today?" I say laughing. "Mhm!" She says, still digging her head into my stomach. Rolling my eyes, I peel up her head and - shocker - see she's not only wearing about 35 layers of my most expensive lipstick but has stolen the earrings I was looking for and taped them to her ears.
"Vivi, what the hell" I laugh, slowly tearing off the tape she's so masterfully stuck to her earlobe. "Hey, Viv you're already what, like, four?" "I'm NINE!" She protests. "And 8 months." Laughing I say "well then only a couple years until you get your ears pierced okay? For now, come on."
After having made her breakfast, I'm sat in front of my mirror, examining my face. I didn't sleep at all, and it shows. So not "Carter standard". I quickly fix myself up with some concealer and eyeliner and get up to leave. I get halfway to the door before I stop myself.
Oh god. All at once, I feel completely disconcerted, every ounce of feeling in my body goes numb and gathers in the pit of my stomach. Focus yourself, Genevieve. Breathing in and out, steadying the trembles crawling up through my limbs, I focus my mind on other things. Looking through my room, I see my perfect, soft bed. Photos of my friends stuck to the mirror. Flashcards and mind maps stuck above my desk. The scrapbook Ellie made me for my 16th. Polaroids. Disposable photos. Postcards. Family photos.
Oh, no, god, no. Divert your attention Vieve. But suddenly, even my room closes in on me. Me and Jonah holding seashells at the beach. Jonah's old sports cups, swimming, soccer, hockey. God couldn't my parents have put his stuff anywhere else? Why did my room, my space, have to be a personal testament to him? A beat. And then I catch his eye. I see me, me and my- my forget-me-not dress, and my mom's crazy curls, and my brother, holding me, stilling me. Exhale. I'm okay. I've gotta be okay. Jonah'd want me to be okay, and, and I'm Genevieve fucking Carter so I am okay.
