The Bodies We Wear Read Online Free PDF Page A

of the top schools in the district and very private and expensive. They didn’t want me, of course. At least, not in the beginning. It took a lot of persuasion and a few recommendations from both my old school and an appointed government caseworker who follows my life from a distance. They pushed the “pity this poor child who is really a victim and not at all a drug abuser” spiel.
    So in the end, they changed their minds. They wanted me. Everyone wants a sinner.
    They even gave me a scholarship, and as long as I maintain my grades I can continue to attend school. As long as I don’t resort to my old druggie ways.
    I am a blank slate.
    I don’t have problems with school. It’s easy. All I have to do is listen. All I have to do is write down what they expect me to write. I sit in the back and silently take notes. I very rarely raise my hand, preferring to keep to myself. But I like school. There’s only one right answer and I find comfort in that. I wish life were that easy. My grades are very good, although most of the teachers still seem wary of me.
    In school I wear a uniform. A pleated dark-blue skirt and white blouse. Knee-high socks or tights and black Mary Jane sneakers. My face is scrubbed clean until it shines and I pull my long dark hair back in a ponytail. Makeup is not allowed. No dangly earrings. I look normal. Like everyone else. Well, almost.
    No one ever waits for me at my locker. I don’t have friends. That’s just the way I like it too. Friends complicate things. They want to do things with you after school and on weekends. They expect you to go with them to movies and hang at the coffee shops, pretending to study. They want to know your feelings and share gossip and whatever else girls do when they’re together. I don’t belong to that world. It confuses me. I don’t understand why such mundane things can be so interesting. How can something as simple as a brand-new outfit or sky-blue eye shadow work girls into such a frenzy?
    Some of the girls pretend to be friendly but I try not to encourage them. Besides, they’d probably end up asking questions that I’m not prepared to answer. This is something I’ve been explicitly told to avoid.
    There were rules when I joined this school. Rules that were created specifically for me and I have to follow them.
    Rule one: I am never, under any circumstances, to reveal to the other students that I have overdosed on Heam. I’m not to mention that I ever tried Heam nor can I ever mention the drug’s name, even in a lesson.
    Rule two: Under no circumstances am I ever to remove my clothing in the presence of other students. They must never see my scars and I must never mention them. Because of this, I have been given special permission to skip gym class. A lie was created stating I have terrible asthma and because of this I am excused. Instead, I am to spend the period in the library studying. Even while off the school grounds I should take precautions with my clothing by wearing shirts that cover my chest completely. Not that I’ve ever had to worry. The kids at Sebastian would never dare to step inside my world.
    Rule three: There are to be no relationships with students of the opposite gender. Although it was never stated, I believe it has a lot to do with rule number two. I’m also advised to keep my friendships formal at best. Keep my socializing down to a science.
    Rule four: I am never to talk about my parents. If prompted, I am to say that both parents died in an accident—even though the administration knows my mother is still alive. Although I’d never say it to the school’s face, to say Dad died accidently is closer to the truth than anything else.
    Rule five: Maintain good grades and never criticize the school. I am to constantly remember that I am a guest here. And even the nicest visitors sometimes overstay their welcome.
    There are consequences to my actions and if I break these rules, I’m gone. They won’t give me a second chance and