A Girl's Life Online Read Free Page B

managed to get his hand up which girl’s shirt.
    At parties we would play a game called Never Have I Ever . We would sit around in a circle with some type of alcohol or beverage. Someone would then say, “Never have I ever kissed someone,” and everyone who had kissed someone would have to take a sip. This game made everyone’s experience level in the sex department—or at least what they confessed to—common knowledge.
    My experience was nil, and I couldn’t decide whether this was embarrassing or not. One spring afternoon I was sitting outside on a concrete bench waiting for a ride home from school. It was late, so there was only one other girl waiting with me. I had never talked to her before, but I knew who she was. She always wore black tops—long sleeve, short sleeve, halter—always black.
    It wasn’t long before she asked me if I had a boyfriend. I wasn’t even wearing a bra yet, and this girl wanted to know if I had a boyfriend.
    â€œAre you kidding me?” I laughed. “We are much, much too young to be dating.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you?” she said sarcastically. “We’re not too young. Everybody’s doing it. That’s the way it is.”
    And with that, she turned away. I felt stupid because there was obviously something going on that I didn’t know about. Luckily my ride arrived and I didn’t have to sit there with her any longer.
    When you are thirteen, you spend most of your time trying to figure out whether you’re a kid or a teenager or an adult, when you are really part of each. You feel like people are constantly judging you for the most superficial reasons. No one my age seemed to be interested in music, or books, or any of the things that mattered to me. They cared more about who had big boobs and who was still a virgin. I was beginning to feel completely alone.

My Family

    B efore I tell you about my real family, let me tell you about my idea of what the best family is supposed to be like. I’ll tell you right now that I know people who are like this, so don’t say I’m making it up.
    They are all-American-type people from San Antonio, Texas. They enjoy hiking and camping and family road trips. I wouldn’t call them religious fanatics, but they do have a strong belief in God. They even keep their family photo album in a fireproof safe.
    They are a lot of other things, too. They are good to the point of being disgusting. They don’t swear. They never say they hate anyone.
    I have never been to their house, but I imagine that above the fireplace they have a family portrait done at Sears with one of those awful blue backgrounds. In the picture the girls are probably wearing coordinated outfits—not the same outfit, but coordinated. There are two boys to balance out the girls in the family. Everyone is intelligent and works extremely hard, so they get good grades. They are all athletes, including the parents.
    The family has a lot of home-cooked meals: barbecues, Sunday dinners, Tuesday-night tacos. They go on trips with other families. The parents don’t have great jobs, but they earn a respectable amount of money. I guess they are middle class. I think the ideal family would be that, because too many times in my experience the rich get away with things too easily. In a lot of ways it is better, more wholesome, to be middle class.
    Even though I had my own ideas about this “ideal” family, I didn’t want any part of it. All I really wanted was for my biological parents to be in love and still married.

    On many levels, my family is probably closer to the American reality than my ideal. Our relationships are complicated, and everyone is extremely busy. We are nothing like the people in the Sears portrait.
    I am the middle of three sisters. Abby is four years older than me. Carrie is four years younger. Her father is David, my stepfather. Abby and I are both from my