Prologue
Cara
Age Thirteen
Staring at myself in the mirror, utter self-consciousness comes over me. My favorite t-shirt can no longer be my favorite t-shirt. Over the last year, I’ve noticed my body start to change. My legs and underarms are growing hair. Disgustingly, my privates have started growing hair, too. No longer can I go to the beach—well, pond—with the boys wearing my swimsuit. I wear a pair of shorts, because I’ll never hear the end of it if they see any hair sprouting from between my legs.
Most recently, though, I’ve noticed another change. My chest is starting to develop. I’ve been watching other girls at school wearing bras, flaunting their pink, unnecessary push-ups or matching sets that their mom took them to go get. The mother-daughter bonding that sounds like such a natural thing chirping out of these girls’ mouths while I’m dead scared to go tell my mom that I need my first bra. I haven’t even had the guts to confront her about shaving. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to.
The only thing I do know is that I wish I could go back to a year ago when I was one of the boys. They haven’t mentioned anything about the changes I’m seeing, but it’s only a matter of time. Will they even want to hang out with me anymore when they notice I’m turning into a girl?
Like an actual girl.
I shudder.
“Cara! I’m going out!” Mom barks at me.
Glancing in the mirror again, I stare at the tiny points sticking out of my shirt. Crap, it’s now or never.
“Mom!” I yell, running out of my room.
She’s already got the front door open, purse slung over her shoulder as she heads to what I’m assuming is the bar.
“What do you need, Cara? I’m already late.” She sighs, irritation rolling off her in waves.
Suddenly nervous and at a loss for words, I look down at the floor and bite my lip.
“What is it?” She snaps.
My eyes swing to hers. “I’m wondering if the next time you’re shopping… you can maybe get me a bra?”
She lets go of the door, and I watch as it swings shut and nearly slaps her in the ass. “What?”
“A bra. I think I need a bra.”
She glances down, cracking a smile. “Those mosquito bites?” She barks out a laugh. “I think you’ll be fine for a while.”
She turns to leave, and panic washes over me like an angry wave. “Wait. Mom!”
Glancing over her shoulder, she gives me the most distasteful look and sighs. “What!”
“Please? Just one? I just… feel uncomfortable.” I fold my arms over my chest. I can guarantee, the girls at school didn’t have this hard of a time trying to get a training bra. Why is it like this for me?
Why?
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll ask some of the girls if any of their kids have any hand-me-downs they want to get rid of.”
I release the breath I was holding. “Thank you.” Something is better than nothing, I guess.
Once she leaves, I turn around and head back to my room. Falling back onto my bed, I stare at my peeling, yellowed ceiling and wish for time to pass. I wish for enough time to pass where I can move out of this park and make something of myself. I don’t know what that’s going to be yet, but I imagine myself traveling the world. Seeing how people live outside of The Grove. Being able to visit all the things I’ve learned about in Geography and Social Studies class at school.
The Grand Canyon.
Niagra Falls.
The Eiffel Tower.
Sigh.
Yeah right, in my dreams. I’ll end up living the rest of my life in this trailer, with my luck.
When I hear shouting outside my window, my lips crack into a smile at my friends’ voices. Some new guy moved in last week and has fit right in with the guys. I haven’t met him yet, but every time I go outside, I can feel his eyes boring into me.
Curiosity gets the best of me. I sit up and walk over to my window. They laugh as they run around, throwing firecrackers at each other’s feet. Every time a pop sounds, I wince.
I totally forgot, it’s the Fourth of July tonight.
Shit.
Not like anything big happens in The Grove anyway. The city is far too poor to light off fireworks, so if anyone wants to see a show by the city, they either have to go to the next town over or go over to Wisconsin. The crazy fireworks are legal in Wisconsin.
Easton’s dad usually gets us a ton of fireworks to light off in the park for us.
“Cara, what are you doing?” Logan’s confused voice calls from outside. I glance over at him and see his squinted eyes inspecting me. “Come out here.”
I look down at myself, feeling self-conscious, but knowing I have no other choice in the matter. If I don’t go outside now, they’ll start banging on my door until I come out.
“I’ll be right there.” I grumble, moving away from the window and towards my dresser.
I really have nothing to wear. This growth spurt that I’ve been going through has made most of my clothes too small. Trading out my sleeping shorts for a pair of jean shorts, I give a little sigh of relief when I am able to button them up. I pull a hoodie over my head, and as weird as I’m going to look since it’s about ninety degrees outside, I’d rather melt underneath this sweatshirt than have three guys stare at my budding chest all day.
I slide my feet into my flip flops and open up my door, immediately jumping a foot in the air when I hear a pop at my feet.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop, pop.
Logan cackles with a handful of firecrackers in his palm, another ready to be launched at me.
“Fuck! Logan! Do that shit again, and I’ll knee you in the nuts so hard you can never have children.”
His smile drops along with his hand. “Jeez, Cara. You’re no fun.”
I look over at Easton and he has a contemplating look on his face, and then glance at the new guy. I’d have completely forgotten he was here. He has a blank, bored look on his face.
Logan follows my line of sight. “Shit, Cara. You haven’t met Jackson yet. Jackson, Cara. Cara, Jackson.” Logan waves his hands in between us and I lift my hand up in a limp wave.
“Hi.”
He stares at me, his head cocked to the side like a curious pet. Glancing over at Logan, I give him a worried look.
Did I offend him or something? Why isn’t he saying hi back?
Logan leans in to whisper in my ear. “He doesn’t talk much. Don’t take it personally.” I nod, lowering my gaze to the ground to avoid his icy stare.
“We’ve got a shit ton of fireworks to light off tonight. Want to see?” Logan says, the weird moment gone as excitement already fills his gaze. Logan can’t stay in a bad mood for long. He’s about the happiest kid I’ve ever met.
I nod, following Logan over to Easton’s porch and the pile of fireworks spread out in a messy heap.
Already sweating, I wipe my forehead and look over the various fireworks. I have so much fun lighting stuff off every year. It’s one of my favorite holidays. We don’t typically go anywhere for holidays, since we don’t have any family that I know of. I’m not sure if I have any grandparents or any other relatives. Mom never speaks about them. I tried once, and her bad mood stuck with her for an entire week.