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.Breasts and ballet didn’t mix.And dance was the only oblivion, the only time she was able to forget about all the changes that were making life spin out of control.Other than … the other thing.It had been better before Meredith got ‘it’.Cecilia hated even the word.She wouldn’t use it, even in her thoughts.Cecilia had felt more secure, then.As if maybe the two of them could escape together.But that was before ‘it’ came and dragged them into a new phase from which they would never, not ever, return.But Meredith had been stoked.She’d gathered the girls together as though she had the best news in the universe.And they had all carried on with talk and jokes about pads.Carried on as though Meredith had achieved something great, when what she’d really achieved was having blood come out between her legs.Disgusting.Cecilia had only coped with it all by counting the number of parallel panels of wood in the section of wall behind Meredith.The door interrupted the whole lines, with panels above and below that were horizontal.She was up to 258 when Meredith noticed she wasn’t paying attention to them.When Meredith pressured her, asking what was wrong.Cecilia had lied.She’d told them there was nothing wrong.There had been so many lies lately, so many cover-ups, because there was no option of telling the truth about what she felt.About what she was doing.Cecilia could fill herself up with lies.She could digest them slowly until she actually believed what she was saying.She was becoming a professional.The story about an empty lunchbox was enriched by leaving the crust of a sandwich inside, or the crumbs of a biscuit after she’d thrown the rest away.It was a terrible thing to do while people were starving in the world.How could she begin to explain it to her friends? When she didn’t even understand herself?It was different for the others.They had problems, yeah, but their problems were real.They were understandable.Jordan’s parents splitting up, or Lee liking someone who didn’t like her back.They were normal problems.They could be spoken about.Like when Meredith told them all about her mum, about why she was always jokey.Everyone had listened and understood.They had cried together, and laughed, as they unravelled Meredith and put her back together.Meredith deserved their understanding.Cecilia checked the bills in her purse.She opened the zipper inside her bag and tucked the purse away.Her dad had bought her the bag in Prague a few months earlier.He’d seen it in a store window on the way to conduct one of his concerts.A symphony orchestra that received rave reviews.He’d been gone a month that time.Newspaper clippings with headings like Johann Walters reaches the zenith of creative passion, had been laid on the kitchen table for inspection.Then came the bag.He’d thought Cecilia would like it.She did.She liked the stark, white canvas, the China bluebirds etched over its surface.The bamboo rings hugged her shoulder.It was the perfect size, too.For this.Outside, the afternoon was bright.Inside the shopping centre, the light was artificial and ugly.People walked around with plastic bags, shop logos plastered all over them, filled with stuff they thought they needed.Cecilia’s bag was empty, apart from the purse.So far.She paused outside the window of the pet shop.It was stage one of the ritual.Today, there were three puppies.Maltese Shitzus.Fluffy balls of fur.They rolled around, climbing on top of each other as though they didn’t know where one finished and another began.Brothers and sisters.Cecilia was an only child.It was a very deliberate choice.Her parents wanted to give her everything, invest in her life.Dance and school, laptops and iPods.She owed them.A loan, with interest.Coco’s Internet Cafe was dark, moody.Smelled of coffee.It was a haven from the shopping centre.Domes of dark green light fittings, fringed with black lace, hung over private booths.Cecilia took the last booth.Number ten.Very private.The second stage of the ritual began.Cecilia fingered her wrist, her pulse, before typing words into the search engine.The website gave her courage.It built her up.She wasn’t alone anymore.In cyberspace, someone understood.Someone gave advice [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Breasts and ballet didn’t mix.And dance was the only oblivion, the only time she was able to forget about all the changes that were making life spin out of control.Other than … the other thing.It had been better before Meredith got ‘it’.Cecilia hated even the word.She wouldn’t use it, even in her thoughts.Cecilia had felt more secure, then.As if maybe the two of them could escape together.But that was before ‘it’ came and dragged them into a new phase from which they would never, not ever, return.But Meredith had been stoked.She’d gathered the girls together as though she had the best news in the universe.And they had all carried on with talk and jokes about pads.Carried on as though Meredith had achieved something great, when what she’d really achieved was having blood come out between her legs.Disgusting.Cecilia had only coped with it all by counting the number of parallel panels of wood in the section of wall behind Meredith.The door interrupted the whole lines, with panels above and below that were horizontal.She was up to 258 when Meredith noticed she wasn’t paying attention to them.When Meredith pressured her, asking what was wrong.Cecilia had lied.She’d told them there was nothing wrong.There had been so many lies lately, so many cover-ups, because there was no option of telling the truth about what she felt.About what she was doing.Cecilia could fill herself up with lies.She could digest them slowly until she actually believed what she was saying.She was becoming a professional.The story about an empty lunchbox was enriched by leaving the crust of a sandwich inside, or the crumbs of a biscuit after she’d thrown the rest away.It was a terrible thing to do while people were starving in the world.How could she begin to explain it to her friends? When she didn’t even understand herself?It was different for the others.They had problems, yeah, but their problems were real.They were understandable.Jordan’s parents splitting up, or Lee liking someone who didn’t like her back.They were normal problems.They could be spoken about.Like when Meredith told them all about her mum, about why she was always jokey.Everyone had listened and understood.They had cried together, and laughed, as they unravelled Meredith and put her back together.Meredith deserved their understanding.Cecilia checked the bills in her purse.She opened the zipper inside her bag and tucked the purse away.Her dad had bought her the bag in Prague a few months earlier.He’d seen it in a store window on the way to conduct one of his concerts.A symphony orchestra that received rave reviews.He’d been gone a month that time.Newspaper clippings with headings like Johann Walters reaches the zenith of creative passion, had been laid on the kitchen table for inspection.Then came the bag.He’d thought Cecilia would like it.She did.She liked the stark, white canvas, the China bluebirds etched over its surface.The bamboo rings hugged her shoulder.It was the perfect size, too.For this.Outside, the afternoon was bright.Inside the shopping centre, the light was artificial and ugly.People walked around with plastic bags, shop logos plastered all over them, filled with stuff they thought they needed.Cecilia’s bag was empty, apart from the purse.So far.She paused outside the window of the pet shop.It was stage one of the ritual.Today, there were three puppies.Maltese Shitzus.Fluffy balls of fur.They rolled around, climbing on top of each other as though they didn’t know where one finished and another began.Brothers and sisters.Cecilia was an only child.It was a very deliberate choice.Her parents wanted to give her everything, invest in her life.Dance and school, laptops and iPods.She owed them.A loan, with interest.Coco’s Internet Cafe was dark, moody.Smelled of coffee.It was a haven from the shopping centre.Domes of dark green light fittings, fringed with black lace, hung over private booths.Cecilia took the last booth.Number ten.Very private.The second stage of the ritual began.Cecilia fingered her wrist, her pulse, before typing words into the search engine.The website gave her courage.It built her up.She wasn’t alone anymore.In cyberspace, someone understood.Someone gave advice [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]