By Monday, a bruise has formed, a purple spider web beneath my left eye. I almost missed being beat up. Feels good to get a little taste of Hope House after living with the holy trinity for the past three months. Sebastian yelps when I sit across from him for breakfast. "She's turning!"
My bruised face is hideously incongruous with my posh blue Wilmington uniform. I don't blame him for being horrified. Lin sets the cheerios in the middle of the table and takes his seat next to Sebastian. "Turning into what?"
"An invisible girl!"
By nature, toddlers repeat what they hear. Any influence is detrimental to their infant mentalities. But by nature, as well, toddlers are stupid. I shake my head. "That's not what's going on. It was just a story. See?" I take a big bite from my toast and smile while I chew. "I don't 'turn'. I'm not a werewolf, Sebastian."
"Vidya?" Lin looks at me like I said something wrong. I brace myself. He squints. "You might want to wear some makeup today."
"Son of a—" I begin, but Lin goes full on gladiator when faced with even the threat of a swear word wounding the ears of his Precious Baby. "—dog." My eyes flicker to Sebastian, who is eating his granola with his face in the bowl, like he's bobbing for apples. "I know you want to impress the paparazzi. Sorry I'm such a plain-Jane."
"That's not what I meant. You're beautiful. I mean, you might want to cover that up." He waves his hand beneath his eye. That's when it hits me. I am in foster care. Any sound heard by the neighbors or any tears shed outside the house could raise suspicion. This bruise could be my ticket out of Mirandaland, out of the city, out of the country-- maybe back to Pakistan, maybe to Taiwan, I've always wanted to go there--
But Lin is wearing Dr. Seuss socks today. Vanessa broke Sebastian's granola into pieces so he could eat like the dog. If I were to be removed, chances are I wouldn't end up in Taiwan. It horrifies me that I want to stay here. Maybe it's the way Lin saved my sorry butt the other day, or how there's a certain innocence to families with toddlers. I have cracked, flipped, warped into some vaguely Vidya-shaped mystery girl. I'll worry about my ingenuity some other time. I gotta hide this bruise.
The girl in the mirror assesses the damage. It feels like someone hammered a hole in my face. I have no remote interest in cosmetics, but at the moment, something to cover up Jamal's handiwork would be helpful. I stop myself from asking Vanessa to lend me some of her makeup. That is what the nicer Vidyagirl in my conscience would do. Vidya would think of something else.
I could smear human feces beneath my eye and say I'm making a statement. Don't have to explain. People would be too frightened to ask. I could wrap Lin's bandanna around my face and say I'm being fostered by the leader of the Puerto Rican mafia. No. Lin isn't cool enough for people to believe that.
I rest my hand over my cheek. An idea explodes in my head.
By the time I'm finished, the girl in the mirror has mehdni exploding from the center of her cheek and drawn in a river down the side of her neck. Flowers and petals and thin lines and thick lines, damp outlines solidifying quickly into an orange crust. I finish with a narrow row of scallops down the side of my cheek to encase the birds, the jasmine petals, everything.
When I walk into the kitchen to pack my lunch, Vanessa yelps and Lin runs to make sure I haven't planted a nuclear bomb in the toaster.
"Oh, wow." He grins when he sees me. "Vidya, the human doodle pad."
An old man on crutches blinks at me when I walk down the street. On the subway, A college hipster is not discreet in asking her friend what disease she thinks I have. At school, people stare, but no one asks about my face. I go to the bathroom during Algebra to look at myself in the mirror. I understand why people weren't reluctant to look at me. I drew the pattern in such a rush that the paste dried dripping down my face like melting candle wax. I eat lunch in the library, alone in the sanctuary of geeks and dusty paperbacks. These Precious Babies at Wilmington are too caught up in their inheritance to notice anything but themselves and the other Precious Babies around them. I shouldn't have bothered mehndi-ing my face this morning. No one cares about a bruise on the body of a dead person.
YOU ARE READING
SHOUT - Adopted by Lin Manuel Miranda
Fanfiction"Sometimes I think the universe sets certain people out into the world like gifts meant for others, people whose purpose is to save someone else. That's how I think of families. And if the universe couldn't do me that favor, couldn't put someone on...
