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base—Easter egg hunts, Mother’s Day brunch, and the annual barbecue where they served amazing Mexican food. Of course the Fourth of July was like his Christmas. He would say the Pledge of Allegiance every day, but on the Fourth of July he would raise a flag in the yard and, with his hand over his heart, sing the national anthem loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. All the kids would laugh at him, myself included, but he didn’t care. He loved his country and made sure we grew up appreciating the military.
    My grandfather taught my brother and me to say “please” and “thank you” to others and to not put our elbows on the table, and I think he was the first person on the planet to recycle. I would accompany him on the drive to the recycling center with a million cans in tow, and more often than not he would pull over along the way toscoop up more recyclables from the side of the road. He’d swerve across six lanes of traffic and drive in reverse a hundred yards if he spotted a can on the road. It was crazy, but he was set on teaching me to treat others with respect and to care about the world.
    However, all my values and manners went out the window when it came to my brother, Colin. When we were little we did
not
get along. We are three years apart, so in elementary school he was always following me around and copying my every move. I hated him for being a little tagalong so I was constantly yelling at him and beating him up. I was always so nice to everyone else and made a point of protecting the weaker kids in school, but my brother was my personal punching bag.
    Aside from a few fights with my brother, though, I was a good kid, and a pretty normal one at that. I was always outside, building forts and tree houses, digging for dinosaur bones, and using my imagination to make my own fun. Friends or no friends, old Asian dudes or little Mexican boys, dad or no dad, I was going to enjoy life and do whatever I had to do to be a happy kid.
    Everything was going smoothly until I graduated elementary school and moved on to middle school. It was then that I could have used a father, or at the very least a friend who was a good influence. Because when I turned thirteen, I was no longer my grandfather’s little sunshine.

CHAPTER 4
 

    A Perfect Misfit

    When I got to middle school I thought I was very mature. Some of my best friends were senior citizens, so it only made sense that I would think I was too grown-up for the kids in my own grade. I was a tiny blonde girl running around in soccer shorts, but inside I was wise beyond my years.
    I wanted to know more about everything I was beginning to be told to avoid. Sex, drugs, alcohol—it all had my teenage brain working a mile a minute. I was ready to explore the world, but my mom had other plans for me. She was strict, man.
    The first real parties I ever went to were at Skateworld, where I had birthday parties as a kid. My mom loved it then, but once I got to middle school her opinion changed. She thought it was a place where bad kids hung out, and she was right. The middle school girls always dressed skanky to go to Skateworld, and before the end of the night they’d usually find someone to hook up with. Everyone my age stayed there until it closed and then hung out at a spot in the neighborhood until all hours. But I had a curfew, so at nine o’clockmy mom rolled up to Skateworld in her red Jeep Grand Cherokee to drag me away from all the fun. I was embarrassed and, in my mind, it was totally unfair. I wanted to do what my friends were doing; instead, I sat at home wondering what I was missing. Then, in school on Monday, everyone would talk about who kissed who or who gave head to who, and I’d missed all of it!
    I couldn’t live with her rules. I was ready to be a rebel and make my own choices. She pulled me out of Skateworld one too many times and I decided I would not let her ruin my night again. So when the next big party came around, I didn’t