Into White by Randi Pink Page A

this.”
    â€œNonsense,” they said.
    â€œI can’t pay you guys back.” I looked at my feet as we headed to the car.
    â€œNo need, I made Lucy buy it for you with her employee discount. She really can be a bitch.” Amelia climbed into the driver’s seat.
    Amera replied, “We barely speak to our cousin’s uncle anyways. He’s from our dad’s white trash side.”
    â€œWe play up the family angle for free makeup. And other stuff.”
    Throughout the ride home, I sat on the Gus Von March bag and made myself as small as humanly possible in the backseat. I peered out the window, trying to ignore the negativity spewing from the front.
    I knew Amelia was driving because she’d taken the scenic route through the wealthier section of Edgewood, where single houses were nestled on acres of wooded land. Magnolia trees lined sidewalks filled with power-walking pedestrians in hot-pink jogging suits. One exceptionally skinny walker wore leggings with the exact same pattern as the Lily Pulitzer outfit in the bag beneath my butt. My hands involuntarily balled into fists. Lucy had bought the clothing. Malicious, stupid Lucy who worshipped the demons in the front seat and prejudged my kindhearted big brother at a glance. My press-on nails dug little red half-moons into my palms, and I felt the anger rise from my stomach, through my chest, and finally settle in my pursed lips.
    When we pulled into my driveway, I leaped from the Bug before it came to a complete stop.
    â€œGod, Kat!” Amelia shouted.
    â€œYeah, don’t be so eager to get away from us,” said Amera. “God.”
    Hampton growled at the Bug’s rear lights as it rolled away. When the car was no longer visible, I walked to the neighbor’s garbage can, lifted the lid, and threw the Gus Von March bags inside with the rest of the trash.

 
    YOU CAN’T HAVE IT ALL
    But I wanted it all.
    I wanted thrifting with my mom. I wanted to tell my dad what cars he should and should not buy. I wanted my big brother to help me find quarters. I wanted to be invited to parties where I could dress like a Barbie doll and flirt with popular boys. I wanted to ride in a car that didn’t smell like diesel fuel. I wanted to feel comfortable in bathing suits and body-hugger jeans. I wanted it all, but if I had to choose, I chose Katarina.
    Before Katarina, Alex and I had never gone a full day without at least one deep conversation about life, liberty, and the pursuit of popularity, but during my first week as Kat, he treated me like a pauper would treat the queen, like he was not worthy of me. Missing Alex was a gut-wrenching consequence of the choice I’d made. I missed him so much, sometimes I couldn’t concentrate.
    I tried to evade my family by staying in my room during reruns of Unsolved Mysteries , but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw Alex climbing Colossus alone, or Mom leaving, or Dad buying another lemon of a vehicle. They were ruining everything, so I avoided all of them. I avoided talking to Dad; he never listened to my advice anyway. Stuffed earbuds in to block out Mom’s morning screams and praise Jesuses; I don’t know why I’d never thought of that earlier. And took showers extra early; that way Alex could have full access to our shared bathroom when he woke up.
    On school days, the twins picked me up before and dropped me off after school, so I never smelled like diesel. The weekend, however, was another story. On my first Saturday morning as Katarina, I couldn’t avoid my family.
    Mom woke up the house at eight a.m. screaming. “Who spills coffee on their own hardwood floors? Must be crazy as hell.”
    â€œGo back to sleep, Mom.” Alex stirred in his bed.
    But my mother never slept past seven forty-five, and she made damn sure no one else in the house slept past eight o’clock. She’d continue her ruckus until at least one of us paid attention to