The Perks of Being a Freak (Editing)

67. RIP My Parents

As soon as I got home, I was excited for later in the night, when I knew that I could sneak out and meet the freaks. I practiced violin quickly, wishing that the hour would go by quicker. I finished my homework, and packed my swim bag. Then I sat on my bed, bouncing until it was time for swim practice.

And then at practice I was a mess. I would check the clock every time we stopped at the shallow end. Two hours never went by slower.

But isn’t that the nature of time? Ignore the clock and it flies by. Yet whenever you’re waiting for something, or are excited for something to happen, the clock seems to make an honest-to-God effort to tick as slowly as possible.

Finally, I was in the car, listening to Sum 41 and Pierce The Veil and waiting for my carpool to drive me home.

Practice ended at 8:30. I got home around nine. After I had showered, eaten dinner, and cleaned out my swim bag, it was 9:45.

Typing a sweatshirt around my hips, I went to open the window.

It didn’t budge.

I stared at the window, eyes wide, and then yanked upwards again.

It didn’t budge.

I checked the locks at the top of the window, and it was unlocked. I pulled again, hard, and it didn’t move an inch.

What the fuck?

I checked the other two windows, and found them to be in the same condition.

They didn’t budge.

Upon closer inspection, I found screws driven through the bottom and sides of the window, holding it shut.

Someone had screwed my windows shut.

What the fuck?

Angrily, I slid down the ladder and ran down the stairs. Even though it was nearly ten o’clock, my parents and brothers were awake and laughing on the couch in the living room. Lucy was asleep in bed, but they were awake. They were happy.

I was in a fucking cage.

“Why did you screw my windows shut?” I demanded, crossed my arms. When my hand hit bare skin, I realized that I hadn’t put my sweatshirt on, and that if I turned around, my wings would be on display. 

I put on the sweatshirt.

“No more sneaking out, Juliana,” my mother said, demurely taking a sip of wine.

“I wasn’t sneaking out!” I lied, trying not to yell. “Do you know how hot it gets up there? I was trying to let in some fresh air!”

“If it’s so hot why are you wearing a sweatshirt?” Max accused, dark eyes narrowed.

“Because it’s frigid down here,” and I’m a genetic freak.

“I am… sick… of this,” my mother put her glass down forcefully and stood up. “I am sick of my daughter sneaking out and doing drugs and ruining her life.”

“I have never done drugs,” I hissed venomously, eyes burning. “Not once in my life!”

“Lies,” my father scoffed. Cody and Seth looked uncomfortable, and the other two looked bloodthirsty. They wanted this. They wanted tears and blood and for me to be embarrassed once again.

“Do you have any proof?” I growled, itching to punch them, itching to fight. 

“I don’t need proof, Juliana,” Caroline Davis sneered. “A mother knows her daughter.”

“What’s my favorite color?” I asked. “What is my favorite flavor of ice cream? What is the name of my best friend? This mother knows nothing about her daughter.”

Neither of my parents answered.

“Neither of you can ever say that you know me, because you don’t.” I shook my head, trying to hold back the tears. This hurt even more than when they hadn’t noticed my absence. “I don’t do drugs, I have never done anything illegal, and I am not ‘ruining’ my life.”

“You slack,” my father stood as well, wine still in hand. “You never do your best.”

“How the hell would you know that?” My resolve to not yell crumbled into dust and floated away. “How the hell would you know what my best is when you’ve hardly ever looked at me in the past seven years?! You haven’t been to a single swim meet, a single recital, a single anything in seven fucking years! Don’t you dare presume to know anything about me!”

“I know that you’re a delinquent,” Caroline sounded angry, and indignant. “I know that your grades have been slipping.”

“Oh no, I snarled sarcastically. “I got an A instead of an A-plus. I guess I’m a fucking failure now.”

“Don’t talk to your mother like that!” My father growled, stepping forward. He was an intimidating man, tall and solid, with a square jaw and close-cropped brown hair.

“Should I even call her my mother?” I shouted, arms tight to my side. “Should I call either of you my parents when you’re both such assholes? Parents are supposed to love their kids, and take care of them, and encourage them. I haven’t had parents in seven years.”

Smack.

I stared at the floor, eyes burning with tears, cheek burning with pain. Cody and Seth gasped and half-stood. Max and Aaron snickered. My father was glowering, and my mother looked on the verge of tears, as if she hadn’t just slapped me.

“You are insensitive, and rude, and a failure,” my father said sternly. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to hit back.

I’m not going to be able to make it, I thought.

We know, Benny replied.

Of course they knew. They had been there the entire time, inside of me.

“I hate you,” I murmured, looking back at the people who called themselves my parents. “I have never hated anyone as much as I hate the two of you.”

Then I turned and I walked away.

“You’re grounded!” Caroline called.

“Like that’ll fucking stop me!” I replied.

I couldn’t stop the tears from falling after that.

After all, I had just killed any chance that I had with my parents.