You're Not Enough

Chapter 48

Monday.

Only four more days until New York. I've been smiling all morning ever since I got up. New York!

I can't believe I'm going to New York. I'm excited; I'm actually really looking forward to it. I've never really looked forward to anything in my life.

Except for when I was little, I always loved it when my nanny would tell me that my parents were coming home for the weekend. For the whole week, I would be so eager to see them. The weekend seemed like it was so far away. I remember on the Friday of their return. I would get off the school bus and run straight into the house; both of my parents would be standing right in front of the door waiting for me. I would run and hop right into their arms, forgetting how mad I was at them when they left.

Over the years, though, when they started to spend less and less time at home, I didn't get excited anymore when they would come back. I felt like they would come back to check on me, make sure I was good, and then leave. It felt like I was just there connecting flight on their one-way trip, if that makes sense.

I grab my brush off my bathroom sink and brush all my hair up and then wrap a scrunchy around it, pulling the hair out into a ponytail. I walk out of my bathroom and over to my bed. I slip on my black jacket and zippen it up. This is the last week of September. It is already starting to get chilly outside. I have a feeling it will be an early winter this year.

I wonder if it will be cold in New York.

My father calls my name, telling me to come downstairs. I grab my book bag at the end of the stairwell and head for the front door.

"Not so fast." My mother says. I stop and turn around. "Grab a fruit or something. You need to eat," she says.

"Mom, I'm not hungry," I whine.

"Well, take something for later."

I walk over to the island and grab my favorite fruit, an orange, of course.

She smiles, pleased. I walk back towards the door and out to the car.

"There's something I want to talk to you about." My father says while starting up the car. This is it. He's about to break the news of the move. "How do you feel about trying medication?" He asks.

I try to hide my shocked expression. That's not what I expected him to ask. "Again?" I say. I've tried medication before, and it didn't work. I had a panic attack in front of everyone freshman year. I don't know if it was even a panic attack; I just started freaking out in the middle of the assembly.

"Yes, again. But this time it will be different. You wouldn't be taking the same one, so it won't have the same effects on you as the other one did."

"You don't know that. You don't know what will happen to me when I start a new medication."

"Well, the one we are thinking about has barely any side effects."

"Okay, but there are still side effects." I snap. "You don't know how that medication will affect me personally. They find new side effects from people who have effects from it." I explain. "I don't want what happened freshman year to happen again."

"You won't. This time we will be here with you. We will carefully monitor you on it." He tries to assure me.

Them being here means nothing; my decision is the same "No, I don't want it." I turn my head and stare out the window.

...

I unbuckle my seat belt about to get out of the car.

"Just think about it, okay." He says.