Bittersweet Dreams by V.C. Andrews Page B

classes and had enough credits to enter most universities as a junior. We had a meeting about the situation, but my father wasn’t happy about Mr. Martin’s priorities. He was afraid I was moving too quickly. On the other hand, it was difficult to argue against Mr. Martin’s point that I was wasting my abilities.
    â€œI know she’s bored with her classes here,” he told my father. “Her teachers are doing the best they can for her, but another year in high school, at least one like this, might not be the best choice.”
    â€œI’m not worried about her mental development. I’m worried about her social development,” my father replied. “I mean, you were the one who brought up the problem of her not developing fully as a person if we kept her separated from her classmates. We agreed and insisted that she be put back into regular classes. Why isn’t it helping?” he asked.
    I was surprised to hear him say that in front of me. He sounded frightened about it, frightened that I would never be a fully rounded person and never be happy. Although he did try to get me to do some of the things Mr. Martin and some of my earlier teachers had suggested, my father never gave me the impression that he thought there was anything actually freakish about me. He was always proud of my accomplishments, but since he had married Julie and she was constantly complaining about me, he began to look at me differently.
    And because he was doing that, I started doing it, too.
    Hours after my tiff with Julie about lending Allison the sex manual and my sarcastic reaction to my father, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought about all this. Suddenly, I began to wonder if I really was as pretty and as sexy as some of the other girls in my class. Maybe those who gave me compliments weren’t doing it simply to be nice. Even Julie had, reluctantly or not, complimented my features and expressed some envy.
    Maybe it was because of the way Julie had come after me for giving Allison the book on sex or maybe it was the way my father was seeing me now, but whatever the reason, I decided to do something I hadn’t much done up to now. I decided to improve my appearance to see if that would make any difference at school. Perhaps I could stop being seen as part of the woodwork, fading into the hallways and the backs of classrooms. Maybe I could sparkle, too, and from something other than my intellectual capacities. Perhaps this would lead me to socialize and be the more well-rounded person everyone seemed to want me to be. I had to start somewhere if I was going to attempt a change, and my looks were the most logical and easiest place to begin.
    Whether I liked it or not, Julie was the expert when it came to that, I thought, and one thing I knew was to go to the best source for the information you wanted and needed. If I ignored her, I’d be just like any fool who refused to face facts, scientific truths, just to satisfy his or her prejudices.
    I surprised her at dinner that night. She was still pouting over my giving Allison the book and my comments when she had come to reprimand me. She wouldn’t look at me. Her jaw looked frozen. It wasn’t uncommon for her to go into such a determined sulk so she could extract more sympathy from my father, but I could feel it was more intense. My father looked at me, practically pleading for me to mend fences.
    â€œI want to apologize,” I began.
    â€œOh,” she said petulantly. She still didn’t look at me. She was capable of childlike tantrums and could sulk for hours, if not days, until she got her way.
    â€œYes. A while back, I was ungrateful when you went out of your way to help me with makeup.”
    â€œWhat?” She looked at my father. Of course, both she and my father were expecting a different apology.
    â€œYou do all that so well,” I said. “I should have paid more attention to the lessons you were trying to give