I was eating breakfast the next morning when my parents came down.

"Aren’t you going to be late for school?" Mom said.

"I’m going in late today. Mr. Tilling knows all about it. I have an appointment at 8:30."

"What kind of appointment?" Mom asked.

"I’m going to see a psychologist," I told them.

"I don’t think so," Dad blurted out. "No Jenkins is going to see a psychologist."

"Then I’ll just have to change my last name to Lipschitz, won’t I?

"Don’t get smart with me, young lady," Dad barked.

"Well, what do you want me to say? If I’m a Jenkins, then a Jenkins is going to see a psychologist. I need to do this," I asserted.

"I know this week has been a little hard on you, but we can work it out in the family," Dad said.

"No, we can’t."

"Who are you going to see?" Mom asked.

"Ellie Kirkland."

Mom and Dad shot each other a look at that one. It was a rather alarmed look. "Listen, Missy, if you really feel the need to see a shrink," Mom said, "why don’t you let us find you one?"

"Because this isn’t about you, it’s about me," I replied. "Besides which, what’s wrong with Ellie Kirkland? She’s very well regarded. I know that she’s written books and everything."

"Yes, but those books are controversial," Dad claimed.

"We just think we could find you someone better, honey," Mom pitched in.

"Her ideas aren’t widely accepted," Dad added. "I just think you’d be better off with someone more in tune with what our family is like. Ellie Kirkland’s theories can screw up kids who aren’t prepared for them."

You know what? I had sit here, and seen them go from screaming to cajoling in an instant. Me seeing a psychologist was horrible—until they found out who I was seeing, and then me seeing a psychologist wasn’t quite so horrible—as long as it wasn’t Ellie Kirkland. Cassie was right. I was being manipulated. And I was tired of it.

"You know Ellie Kirkland has a son, Mike, he’s in my class," I said. Mom and Dad nodded. "I don’t know Mike well, but I know him enough. Let me tell you about Mike Kirkland. He’s a good student. He’s the starting catcher on the baseball team, and he’s good at it. He’s got a large circle of friends, and they all adore him. Even outside his circle of friends, he’s one of the best-liked kids in school. He’s kind and decent. He’s got a girlfriend, Lily Woodard, the pitcher--and those two have a relationship that’s the envy of the whole school."

"You want to talk about Ellie Kirkland’s theories. I see the result of them every day. If that is ‘screwed up’—well, I should be praying to God every night to be that ‘screwed up’."

My parents looked at me in shock.

"I’m going now, to my appointment. With Ellie Kirkland." And I got up, and that’s just what I did.

Ellie was waiting for me when I got to her office, which was in her house. "Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Kirkland," I said.

"Please, call me Ellie. You go by Missy, right?" I nodded. "Good. Bob Tilling called me and gave me some background on you. I know about the incident last week, and I know The Program has been rough on you. But Bob thinks there’s something more. That’s why he wanted me to see you. Now, why did you agree to see me?"

I took a deep breath and said, "A lot of reasons. I’m confused and scared. I don’t know who I am. I know who I was. Over the past week I realized I’ve come to hate that person. I don’t want to be who I was anymore. But I don’t know who I am now."

"Who were you?" she asked.

"The school bitch."

"Why?"

"Now that is a very complicated question," I sighed. "I don’t know. Jealousy. Attention-getting. Armor."

"Armor?" she asked.

"It was easier to be bitchy than depressed."

"Ah," she said. "But now you’re depressed, aren’t you?" I nodded. "And I don’t think the jealousy and the desire for attention have diminished, have they?" I nodded no. "Why?"

"Aren’t you supposed to tell me that?" I laughed.

"It’s easier if you figure it out on your own," she smiled.

I thought, and then I admitted it. And it was a huge admission for me to make. "Why? Because I feel….unlovable."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"Because nobody loves me. Nobody ever has."

"Well, Mr. Tilling told me about all that’s gone on, and he told me about your conversation with Cassie. She forgave what you did, Missy. I think she probably loves you."

I smiled at that. "OK, you might be right. Of course, I almost destroyed that friendship, but you’re right. We’re still a little strained right now, but it’s fixable."

"Good. There’s one. What about your parents?"

"My parents don’t love me," I asserted. "I’m a front. I’m a front for their marriage, which is littered with affairs, on both sides. I’m a front for their happy leaders-of-the-town lifestyle. I’m expected to be the dutiful daughter, and be a credit to the Jenkins name, and not embarrass them, and that’s it. Love doesn’t even factor into the equation."

Ellie sighed. "OK. I suspected that might be the problem. Look, what I’m about to say is probably very unprofessional of me, but I know your parents. Everyone in town does. If they treat you like they treat other people, I’m not surprised you have a problem with them." I looked at her in shock. You mean, somebody in this town got it? She smiled. "I don’t know if you know this or not, but your father hates my guts."

I cracked up laughing. "Oh, you should’ve seen him this morning. It was bad enough that a Jenkins actually stooped to seeing a shrink. But when he found out it was you? The veins in his temple started to throb. Oh, they were not happy. Dad told me your theories are controversial, and you screw kids up."

"What did you say to that?"

"I told them that if your son was any evidence, I’d like to be that screwed up."

She smiled at me. "That might be one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever gotten. Thank you."

"You’re welcome," I beamed. "But it’s true. I could scour Westport High in vain to find anyone that doesn’t like Mike. Even I like him. And I don’t like anybody."

"I think, deep down, you like more people than you realize. It’s just that your treatment of them hasn’t always borne that out. You like Cassie."

"Yeah, I do."

"And, Mr. Tilling told me to ask you about David."

I looked up with a start. "David?"

"Mr. Tilling thinks that it’s important that you talk to me about David. Now, I don’t know why. So you have to tell me."

"David’s my program partner. He’s the one who took me to the nurse when I was assaulted. He also got in between me and another guy on Wednesday and got a black eye for his trouble. This is a guy who hated me and, on Monday, told Mr. Tilling he didn’t want to have anything to do with supporting me. But, as soon as I got in real trouble, there he was. He hasn’t left." I took a deep breath. "And I have never felt about another guy the way I feel about him. I don’t know what it is, but it’s almost overwhelming."

"Is it just gratitude?"

"No," I said. "Sure, that’s there, but that’s not all it is." I grinned. "I repaid him for his services, anyhow. I gave him a handjob on his couch Wednesday."

She cracked up laughing at that. "Has anything else happened?" I told her about him repaying the handjob yesterday morning, the picture, him asking me out, and the kiss yesterday afternoon.

"You posed in art class? That took a lot of guts."

"Hey, they wanted to draw a fat girl. So I let them."

She glared at me. "You obviously liked Natalie’s drawing of you." I nodded. "Did Natalie draw a ‘fat girl’?"

"No," I admitted. "She didn’t draw a skinny girl, but she didn’t draw a fat girl."

"Yet, she drew you."

"Artistic license," I laughed.

"I know Natalie Weinberg’s drawings, so don’t try to pull that on me," she scolded. "Natalie draws what is."

I thought about that for a minute, and said, "It took my breath away. I looked like a goddess. OK, a slightly rounded goddess. Not fat, but slightly rounded. But a goddess nonetheless." I took a breath. "That picture is hanging on Dave’s wall—if it’s not now, it will be soon, Nat’s mounting it for him. But he’s putting that picture on his wall. That scares the living shit out of me."

"You like Dave," she said simply. It wasn’t a question. I just nodded. "Why does that scare you?"

"Because I don’t know how he feels. He hated me four days ago. How can that change so quickly?"

"Because you have? Missy, if he hated you, he wouldn’t be hanging a sultry nude drawing of you on his wall. Especially one done while you were thinking of him. He wouldn’t have asked you out. He wouldn’t have kissed you. Helping you out when you were in trouble? Yeah, he wouldn’t have had to like you to do that, he would’ve just had to be a nice guy. But the rest? You only do that stuff to and for and about people you like."

"I guess I’m afraid he won’t like me when he finds out what I’m really like."

"We started this conversation with you telling me you didn’t know who you were. So why do you assume the bitchy Melissa is what you’re really like? It’s not. It’s, like you said, armor, a defense mechanism. Do you really want to be that person anymore?"

"No," I said.

"Then don’t. Melissa, you need to cultivate relationships. You need to figure out who cares about you, and that’s where you direct your energies. Cassie cares about you. David does, too. Start there. Figure out why they care about you. There’s a reason. And you know what it is—they see through all the crap. David’s seen the real Missy all week, because having the bad experience you’ve had in The Program wore your defense mechanisms down. Cassie’s been your friend for years, so she’s seen the real Missy, too. Look for validation in people who reaffirm the good things about Missy. And those that don’t, avoid them. Or, if you can’t avoid them, ignore them." She was talking about my parents, and we both knew it.

"You know why your father hates me?" she said. I nodded no. "Because one of my big theories is that adolescents have rights, even when those rights conflict with the desires and wishes of their parents. Now, this is very contrary to the pro-parental-rights movement that’s flared up in this country the past few years. But I’ve seen too many damaged kids in this office, and by far most were damaged by parents. If you were being abused, I could get you out of that house. But you’re not."

"No, I’m not, and sometimes I feel like a big fat crybaby," I admitted. "I could have it worse."

"Yes, you could, but you’re not a crybaby. Everybody deserves to be loved, Missy. You’re not unlovable. It might just be that your parents are incapable of love, did you ever think of that?"

When I left Ellie’s office, I had a lot to think about. And she told me I could come see her anytime. I think I might take her up on that.

I got back to school, undressed—alone, for a change--and went to Mr. Tilling’s office. It was about 10 minutes before the end of second period, so he told me to just wait for the bell and go to third period. With 10 minutes to kill, I did something very impulsive.

I went to the school nurse and got the birth control shot.

I’d never even thought of doing that before! And I wasn’t quite sure why I was doing it now! Was I going to try to get David into bed?

Well, maybe.

Anyhow, I got the shot, and then put it out of my mind. At least I didn’t have to worry if I did decide to get David into bed. Of course, now I didn’t have an excuse to chicken out, either. I just couldn’t stop thinking about his hand between my leg yesterday.

Anyway, since I missed the beginning of school, and second period, I didn’t see David before lunch.

"Hey," he said as I plopped into the seat across from him. "How’d your appointment go?"

"Good. Very good. She gave me a lot to think about that I kind of have to sift through, but it was good."

"That’s good. Uhm, are we still on for tonight?" He looked so worried! What, did he think I was going to see Ellie, revert to bitchy Missy, and cancel the date? I must admit, though, it was flattering how worried he looked!

"Of course we’re still on for tonight!" I said. He gave me a relieved smile. "Look, can I ask you a question? How do you feel about me?"

He looked at me intently, and sighed. Then he said, "Well, you know I didn’t think much of you before this week. But, I don’t know. Maybe I’m wondering if that wasn’t really you. Or something. This is hard to explain. But the Missy I’ve seen this week—well, I like you. A lot. I don’t know much beyond that, but I like you. I wouldn’t have asked you out if I didn’t."

"Thank you," I grinned at him. "I like you too, you know. And I’m sorry for baiting you, but I really needed to hear you say that right now."

"Good, then I’m glad I said it," he grinned back. Just then, the gang joined us.

"How’d it go with Ellie Kirkland?" Cassie asked.

"Good. Very good," I told her.

"I’m glad. Listen, if you weren’t doing anything tonight, maybe we could get together?" Oh, no, why tonight? I really wanted to repair my relationship with her, and I wanted to get together, but not tonight! "And, I was thinking, maybe Frankie could join us. And Dave, if he wanted to. We could all go do something."

I almost laughed, but managed not to. "Actually, Dave and I have a date tonight," I grinned.

"Why, did you want to double?" Dave asked.

Cassie burst out laughing. "Frankie, we’re too slow on the ball, it seems. No, this is your first date, right?" I nodded. "Nope, we’ll find something else to do. You two go out, have a good time, we’ll double some other time."

Frankie was grinning from ear to ear. "Some matchmakers we are, huh? The intended targets beat us to the punch!"

That’s when it dawned on me—and Dave, too, as we looked at each other and started laughing. "You guys were trying to set us up?" I laughed.

"Yeah," Cassie said. "We didn’t know what was going on yesterday, and with all that talk of payback and other crap, we didn’t know if you two were actually going to get together on your own or not. So, we decided to give you two a push. Not knowing that it wasn’t needed," she grinned.

"No, it wasn’t," I giggled. "But thank you. It was a very sweet thought."

"You’re welcome," she smiled.

Dammit. Ellie Kirkland was right. She was so right.

I had to do something. I couldn’t say it, not now. I’d never be able to get it out. So, I wrote it. After Cassie left the lunch table, I grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote her a little note. On the way to biology, I slipped it in her locker, knowing she stopped there after the next period. It said:

Cass,

Thank you for being my friend, even after all the shit I’ve pulled. It means more to me than you’ll ever know, especially right now. I love you. Missy

After Bio, I walked past her locker. Not close enough for her to see me, but I could see her. I saw her reading it. She was crying. And I got out of there before I started.

She seemed different, somehow, when I saw her at lunch. More at peace, yet more apprehensive at the same time, if that’s possible. But when I told her that I liked her, a lot of the apprehension went away.

It seemed that it was becoming increasingly important to her how I felt about her. Look, I did like her, but I liked this Missy. I didn’t like the one I had known before this week. Which one was the real one?

Although, going to see Ellie Kirkland was a good sign. I saw her for a while during middle school—even though it was years after Dad died, it crept up on me. I saw Ellie for a few months. It helped, a lot. She knows her stuff. The fact that she went to see Ellie impressed me.

As did what I found out after school. When she came in to last period, she looked—well, it’s hard to describe. Not upset. But emotional. I couldn’t talk to her then, but we walked out of school together, and got dressed together. Then I walked with her to the parking lot.

"Would you mind holding me?" she said, tentatively, out of a clear blue sky. I opened my arms, she leapt into them, and started bawling her eyes out. I let her, and, after she had calmed down, I said, "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing’s wrong. I’m just emotional." She took a deep breath. "Ellie talked to me today about finding out who cares about me, and trying to see myself the way they see me. And, after that, I get to lunch and see Cass with her grand scheme to get us together." She smiled at that. "I was so touched by that, you have no idea. Even after all the shit I pulled, she still cares about me. I couldn’t say anything, but I put a note in her locker."

"What did it say?" I asked her.

"Basically, it said thank you for being my friend even with all my shit. And it said that I loved her. She opened it after fifth period. I saw her, but she didn’t see me. She was crying. I held mine in until just then," she smiled.

Just then Cassie came barreling down the parking lot, Frankie in tow. Cassie took one look at Missy, and started bawling. As did Missy. They ended up bawling in the midst of a hug. Frankie shot me a wry look as if to say "Blubbering females!" But these were the two most beautiful blubbering females I’d ever seen.

"I love you, too, you know," I heard Cassie say. "The real you. And we both know who the real you is." Missy just grinned and blubbered some more.

After they had left—Frankie had a game, and Cassie went to watch him play—Missy leaned on her car, rather spent.

"You look beat," I said.

"Long emotional day," she replied.

"Do you still want to go out tonight?"

"Absolutely!" she beamed at me. "In fact, get in this car. I have to get you home, and go get ready. By the way, am I picking you up?"

"No," I laughed. "My turn. I wrangled the car from Mom."

"OK," she grinned, and we got in. We didn’t talk much on the way home, but she was in a good mood. We pulled up to my house, and I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "We’ll save anything else for tonight," I said. She giggled. "Six OK?"

"Six is fine. See you then."

I got out, and walked up to the door.

"What, no shows today?" Mom laughed when I got in.

"You need a job. Well, one that gives you more hours." Mom worked "mother’s hours" in a boutique downtown. We weren’t hard up for money, Mom had won a huge lawsuit when Dad had died.

"You stay out of my working life."

"As long as you stay out of my love life," I teased. "Missy had a very eventful day," I said, changing the subject. I described some of it to her.

"She’s love-starved. I told you that," Mom replied when I was done.

"You know what? So am I." She looked at me in surprise. "Maybe not as much as she is, because I’ve got you, and a couple good friends I know I can count on. But, Mom, the way she looks at me! I’ve realized that I need that."

"How do you feel about her right now?"

"I like her, a lot, as long as what I’m seeing this week is who she really is. And I’m becoming more and more convinced that it is. I can’t believe how open she’s become, today especially. Writing that note to Cass took a lot, I know that much. Going to see Ellie took a lot as well."

"Yes, I agree. Just be careful."

"Yeah, I know."

"So, you got through The Program, anyway," she grinned.

"Yes, I did," I grinned. "And it wasn’t so bad. Well, I could’ve done without the black eye, but it wasn’t so bad outside of that. Imagine that."

I got home. Things had gone very well today. I thought they’d go well tonight, with David. Somehow, I didn’t think they were going to go very well in the interim.

I went up to my room, hoping not to see anyone. Unfortunately, Mom caught me.

"So, you made it through The Program," she said snottily.

"More or less," I said.

"Well, did you learn anything?"

"Actually, I did," I admitted. "I learned a lot. I learned that I need to cultivate relationships with people that care about me, that I need to bask in their caring and not abuse them. Cassie really does care about me. What I did to her was inexcusable. I need to stop doing that."

"Good," she said in a self-satisfied way.

"I also learned how to figure out exactly who does care about me. But the bad thing I learned is that the list of people who care about me is far too small. And that that list does not, I’m sorry to say, include you. Or Dad."

"What?" she said.

"You don’t," I said, in an even tone of voice, albeit a bit sadly. I wasn’t going to raise my voice. "To you, I’m a thing. That’s the way you are. Our old house wasn’t ‘good enough’ for the Jenkins family, so we moved here a few years ago. The Mercedes gets a ding? Buy a new one. There’s a new top of the line home entertainment system available? Gotta have it, even though the old one is perfectly fine. Jeez, you and Dad even do it to each other. Sex with your spouse isn’t quite up to par? Find somebody else to fuck. As long as everything looks good to everyone else, then all is well."

She was looking at me in shock. But I wasn’t done.

"The problem is, you do it to me, too. But, horror of horrors, you can’t trade me in for a new model. You’re stuck with me. You expected the Mercedes of daughters, and you’re stuck with a Chevy. And you can’t stand it. You and Dad are users. You use other people, you use possessions. And you try to use me, but since I don’t meet your expectations, you find me mostly useless. And that’s just how you treat me."

"Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date tonight. With David, who—surprise surprise—is on the list of people who care about me. And I need to find something to wear." I walked into my walk-in closet, and rummaged around for an outfit. When I came back out, she was gone.

I picked her up at six. She was waiting for me, and came out the door before I even had a chance to knock.

"Hi. I figured you wouldn’t want to deal with any parents," she giggled. "I said some pretty horrible things to my mother today, so I’d rather avoid her. Things that needed to be said, mind you."

"Well, let’s go, then, before I find myself in the middle of a crossfire," I giggled.

We got in the car and drove off. "What did you say to her?"

"Oh, just some unpleasant truths," she said. "They don’t love me, you know. Never have."

"Well, I know they’re difficult…"

"Oh, they’re more than difficult. Believe me. Anyhow, can we talk about something more pleasant?" she grinned.

"Sure. Where are we going to eat?"

"Ah, food. That’s a pleasant thought, always," she giggled. "You sure you want me to go out to eat with you? I eat a lot."

"Good. I like a girl with a healthy appetite." She giggled at that. "I was thinking Luciano’s."

"Oh, I love Luciano’s," she gushed. "You’d better watch out, though. You take me there, I might eat you right out of your wallet."

"Well, it’s Friday. They have the all-you-can-eat Linguine with Clam Sauce special on Fridays."

"Linguine with Clam Sauce? My favorite!" she enthused.

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" We went to Luciano’s.

We got a table, and ordered. "Oh, I love this place," she gushed. "I love Italian food, anyhow. I’ve been known to come here by myself, when I’m upset or nervous. Which is when I tend to eat a lot."

"Then you won’t be eating a lot tonight," I said.

"Like hell I won’t."

"You’re upset?"

"No, I’m nervous!" she blurted. I had to chuckle at that.

"Well, so am I," I said. "But it’s OK, you know."

"David," she said, looking right at me, "I’m going to lay all my cards on the table. I like you. A lot. That makes me nervous. I’ve never ever felt about any other guy the way I feel about you, OK?"

"Well, same goes for me," I said. She beamed at me! "I also like you a lot. What a surprise that was."

"Yeah," she said, "and part of you is still dreading the return of horrible Nasty Missy, right?"

"I think I was. After today, I don’t think I am anymore."

"What?" she said, incredulous.

"Nasty people don’t write notes like the one you wrote to Cass. Nasty people don’t go to Ellie Kirkland for help. Nasty people don’t ask me how I feel about them, and then look at me like the answer means everything in the world." She was looking at me wide-eyed. "And nasty people certainly don’t—well, Missy, do you realize you’re the first girl I’ve ever been able to really talk to? Nice girls intimidate me. Nasty ones? They make me want to go hide in the corner. You don’t intimidate me at all. Somehow."

"Oh, God," she whimpered. "I don’t know what to say."

"Don’t say anything," I smiled. Just then, the waiter brought the food. "In fact, don’t say anything, eat instead!"

"I’ll buy that," she giggled. We ate in companionable silence. And I noticed that she really didn’t eat all that much.

Afterwards, we paid the bill, and headed to the car.

"Would you like to do something else?" I asked her.

"Yes. I would like you to take me home." Uh-oh, I thought. But then she grinned at me. "There’s nobody there."

I grinned back, but then thought—oy, what does she want to do? Was I ready for that? She must have seen it, because she said, "Look, Dave. We don’t have to do anything we’re not ready for. I just want to be alone with you."

"OK. I’d like to be alone with you, too," I smiled.

We pulled up into her driveway. She took my hand and led me into the door.

"Melissa! Is that you?" we heard shouted.

"Oh, damn," she hissed. "They were supposed to be out!"

"You want to sneak back out the door?" I grinned.

"Nah, it won’t work." Just then her parents walked into the room. "I thought you both had plans," she said to them.

"We cancelled them. We’ve been waiting for you. We need to talk," her father said in a very stern tone of voice.

"I’m on a date," she said. "We came back here to watch TV and stuff."

"Date’s over," her father hissed. "Goodbye," he said to me.

"Oh, you should let him stay. Then he can find out about what a loser I am, can’t he?" she said

"Melissa…" her father hissed.

"Give me a couple minutes," she said, then grabbed my hand and led me out the door. "I’m sorry," she said.

"It’s OK, but I’m worried about you."

"Don’t. I can handle them. Are you busy tomorrow?"

"No."

"Good. They are going out tomorrow, it’s one of my Mother’s charity things that they can’t skip. Instead of going out, you can come here and I’ll make dinner for us. I’m a very good cook."

"OK. But I’m calling you in the morning, to make sure everything’s all right. And if you need to get out of there tonight, you call me."

"I will. And thanks. But I’ll be fine." She leaned up and kissed me. It turned into an absolutely earth-shattering kiss. She was clinging to me by the time we broke the kiss. "Damn. And now I have to make you go away?" she said.

"And now I have to go away?" I chuckled. "But I’ll see you tomorrow."

"OK," she said, and I walked to the car. I drove home, worried. I hoped she’d be all right. I just didn’t trust her parents.

I hate them. I really do. They broke up a perfectly wonderful date so they could yell at me—I knew what was coming. If they expected me to be compliant, ending my date early was not the way to go about it.

I walked into the living room, and there they were, waiting. "Thanks, folks. That was a very nice date you two just ruined."

"We couldn’t care less about your date being ruined," Dad said.

"Par for the course," I replied.

"What?"

"Well, that seems to be your whole attitude towards me, isn’t it? You couldn’t care less."

"Melissa, I am tired of this!" Dad screamed. "What you said to your mother this afternoon is inexcusable! We are your parents, we deserve respect!"

"Then start EARNING it!" I screamed back. "What the hell am I supposed to respect? A bully? You bullied Mr. Tilling with your threats earlier this week. Am I supposed to respect that? Or maybe that you’re both adulterers, oh that’s a nice thing to respect! Or maybe the fact that you manipulate people—something you’ve been doing to me for seventeen years. All these things are worthy of respect? Start treating me like a human being, maybe you’ll get some respect."

"Missy, that’s a tired act," Mom said. "We give you everything you need. Your own car? Clothes? Stereo equipment, TV? Everything you ask for, you get."

"Nice. How about love? When do I get that? Huh?" I looked at them. "You can’t even say it!"

"Say what?" Mom asked.

"That you love me!"

"When you get like this, you’re not a very lovable person," Dad said.

That’s when I absolutely lost it. I took one of Mom’s prized vases off of the coffee table and chucked it against the wall. It splintered into a million pieces. Mom and Dad looked at me in total shock. "I’m not loveable because YOU MADE ME THIS WAY!" I howled, absolutely hysterical. "Nothing I do is ever GOOD ENOUGH! What I am is never good enough! I can’t please you, ever! So I stopped trying!" I was almost convulsing by now, screaming in between huge gasping sobs. "You don’t care what I think! You don’t care what I want! All you care is how it LOOKS! I can’t DO this anymore! I need support. I need help. I need love! And I can’t get that HERE!"

"Why can’t you tell me you love me? WHY for ONCE can’t you JUST FUCKING SAY YOU LOVE ME?" After that, it was all just wailing. I was sitting on the couch, having a breakdown.

And they just fucking looked at me.

I calmed down, and looked at them. They were staring at me like I was a surprise visitor from the planet Klingon. I took a deep breath, and stood up. "It’s obvious that you can’t. It’s also obvious that I can’t be what you want me to be. So, it might be the best thing for you to contact an attorney about terminating your parenthood of me, emancipating me. And I’ll find someplace else to live."

"I don’t want to do that," Dad gasped. "Missy, I don’t want to kick you out."

"Then start treating me like someone you’d like to have around. Or I might just leave on my own." With that, I turned on my heel, and went upstairs.

And cried myself to sleep.

They still couldn’t say they loved me. Because they don’t.

--End of part five—