Chapter 6: No More Perfect Dolls

But ever since I realized there would never be good things in life, I was already numb.

I drifted through my days, untouchable. Nothing surprised me, nothing hurt me—not really. I became a ghost in my own life. I stopped caring about anything.

I went through middle school like a puppet.

I did what I was told, kept my head down, never made waves. I watched the world through a pane of glass, always on the outside. My hands felt empty, my heart quiet.

My deskmate was June, a bright, cheerful girl.

She was everything I wasn't—loud, friendly, full of light. She wore her hair in messy braids and covered her notebooks in stickers. She talked to everyone, even me. Her laughter was contagious.

June would sneak me her favorite snacks, telling me I was too skinny and needed to eat more.

She'd slide granola bars and fruit snacks into my backpack, whispering, "Don't tell, okay?" She worried about me, even when I didn't know how to accept it. Sometimes I almost smiled.

She'd doodle in my homework notebook—drawing mountains, rivers, and a white-bearded sun grandpa.

Her drawings made me smile, even when I tried not to. She brought color into my gray world, one silly sketch at a time. I traced her doodles with my finger when I was alone.

She loved reading romance novels, hiding all sorts of forbidden billionaire love stories in her desk.

She'd giggle over the steamy scenes, passing me notes with hearts and exclamation marks. Sometimes, she'd act out dramatic scenes in the hallway, making everyone laugh. I watched, feeling both jealous and amused.

"Zoey, the heroine in this book is so lucky. So many hot guys like her."

She'd wave the book in my face, her eyes shining. "Can you imagine? All those guys fighting over you!" Her excitement was infectious.

"Look! The heroine's body is special—even at forty, her skin is as soft as a baby's!"

She'd point to the passages, grinning. "I hope I look that good when I'm old!" Her laughter made me want to believe in magic.

"Wow, they're all fighting over her!"

She'd gasp, clutching her chest. "It's like a dream!" Her eyes sparkled with wonder.

"Adults make choices. I'm a middle schooler—I want them all!"

She'd laugh, tossing her hair. "Why pick just one?" I couldn't help but smile, even as I felt a pang in my chest.

Someone like me, numb to everything, suddenly shivered.

Her words hit something raw inside me. I thought I was untouchable, but suddenly, I felt afraid. My hands shook.

I thought of Mom's swollen eyes and suddenly snatched June's book, tearing it up like a maniac.

My hands shook as I ripped the pages, my breath coming fast. I didn't recognize myself—I was wild, out of control, desperate to make her understand. My heart pounded in my ears.

"This will ruin you! This book will ruin you! Ruin your daughter, ruin your whole life!"

My voice was sharp, almost hysterical. I wanted to protect her, to save her from the fate I couldn't escape. My words came out in a rush, frantic.

My outburst made June cry. She sat at her desk, sobbing that she'd never talk to me again.

Her tears made me feel even worse, but I couldn't stop. I watched her cry, feeling helpless and angry and so, so alone. My stomach twisted with guilt.

Staring at the torn pages on the floor, I forced down the panic inside me. I grabbed June's face, glaring at her:

I held her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. My voice was cold, robotic, but inside I was screaming. I wanted her to see the truth.

"Don't be a pampered wife. Don't be some guy's accessory. Don't let yourself get locked in a cage."

I repeated it over and over, like a robot with no feelings.

The words became a chant, a curse, a warning. I wanted her to understand, to never end up like my mom. My voice shook with desperation.

Until a bunch of teachers rushed in and dragged me away, June looked at me with terrified eyes. I'll never forget that day.

They pulled me from the classroom, their hands rough on my arms. June stared after me, her eyes wide with fear. I knew I'd lost her forever. My chest felt hollow.

I lost my only friend.

The loneliness was worse than before. I stopped trying to make friends, stopped caring about school. I became invisible again. My days blurred together.

The day June transferred schools, the driver took me home.

The car was silent, the city blurring past the windows. I pressed my forehead to the glass, watching the world slip by. My hands felt cold in my lap.

All three dads were there, and Mom was dressed up like a goddess.

They were waiting in the living room, dressed to impress. Mom wore a white dress that shimmered in the light, her hair perfectly styled. She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover, not in our broken family. I felt like a stranger in my own house.

Dad Whitaker had his arm around Mom's waist, grinning like the devil.

His smile was all teeth, his eyes cold. He squeezed her waist, pulling her close for the cameras that weren't there. I hated the way he touched her.