“I’m not going to be here forever, and then what?” he asked. “What will you do when you have no old man to care for?”
“I’ll become head of girls, like Ms. Barn.”
His brows caved.
I slowly removed my grip, saying softly, “Just let me explain what you saw.”
He paused. “I’ve lived here longer than you’ve been alive. Do you really think I don’t know? What was my one rule I said you had to follow when you came to stay with me?”
I looked down. “Don’t look them in the eyes.”
“I know you. I know you’re dreaming of happily ever afters.”
“I’m not! Grayson Crowne is horrible. He sees nothing in me. He hates me.”
My uncle clicked his tongue. “But what do you see in him?”
My uncle always saw through me. What did I see in Grayson? Why did my heart flutter for someone so cruel?
I saw…me.
Someone buried and buoyed in secrets. I saw glimpses of loneliness beneath a thick mask.
“He doesn’t know who I am,” I said, throat thick. “He doesn’t know who you are. I’m fixing it. Everything will go back to normal.”
He looked at my wrinkled, slept-in dress. Unwashed hair. Unwashed face. I’d barely had a chance to pee. Hadn’t eaten anything. His eyes landed on the cigarette stain. I slapped a hand over it.
“Are you living with dignity, Storybook?
“Yes,” I lied.
He took a deep, rocky breath. “I’m afraid you’ve learned nothing I’ve taught you.”
I countered, “You always taught me I could be on my knees, could have a plate of food thrown at my chest. They could call me names, forget my name, and just treat me like dirt, but I would still be worthy of respect.”
He just stared at my dress. “But you have to believe that.”
A tinkling of bells chimed through the hallway. They always reminded me of Christmas, but down here they were ominous portents.
“I didn’t teach you to hide. This won’t end well for you.” Uncle disappeared in the tinkling of the bells.
I rubbed my chest. Grayson Crowne had kicked over my bucket more times than I could count. Abigail had thrown her tea at me. Gemma and Tansy probab
ly didn’t even know I existed.
All that time I thought I’d known who I was. Story.
Sure, I wasn’t normally this person, not really. Timid. Shy. Growing up, my mother used to say I was a megaphone because I was loud, and everyone had to know what I was feeling.
I became this person to survive.
First, with Mom. Then, when I moved to Crowne Hall. Piece by piece I hid parts of myself. Hide my body. Hide my soul. Hide. Because they can’t take what they can’t find.
I don’t know how Uncle does it, stays himself while others throw food on him.
Maybe I’ve been hiding so long I’m starting to disappear.
I haven’t been living with dignity. I’ve been living with its dark twin, shame. Because even though I’ve got a cigarette stain on my shirt from how little Grayson sees in me, I know if im not careful, it will burn through to my heart.