The Forbidden Heart by V.C. Andrews Page A

brother seem inferior and stupid for dedicating themselves to national
     service. Maybe because he felt so bad about himself and his family relationship, he
     had less patience for me. I was a perfect scapegoat.
    Or perhaps all of this really is just my way of looking for an excuse. After all,
     when it came to finding an excuse for something I had done or failed to do, I was
     an expert. In fact, other girls often came to me for suggestions when they were about
     to get into trouble. I could prescribe excuses as easily as most doctors could prescribe
     antibiotics. I was tempted to open an “Excuse Stand”and charge for them.
    Did I do bad things in school? There’s a question that answers itself. Does it snow
     in Alaska? From kindergarten on, I was impossible. I hated sharing anything with anyone.
     I was aggressive and bullied whomever I could. By the time I was in the sixth grade,
     I had probably had at least a dozen fights—in the girls’ room, in the hall, or on
     the school grounds. I could kick and punch like a boy. Some of my fights were with
     boys, in fact, and I didn’t lose. I got a few bumps and bruises, but none of that
     caused me to retreat. I think my lack of fear for my own safety and of pain did more
     to terrorize my opponents than anything else.
    Mama was trekking a path right into the concrete sidewalks between home and my grade
     school to have frequent parent-teacher and administrator sessions because of my bad
     behavior. Whenever my father was brought in, called out of his office, the follow-up
     was even uglier. He didn’t believe in things like time-out, sitting in a corner, or
     losing privileges. What kinds of privileges did a ten-year-old really have, anyway?
     No television, parties, or movies? I could live without any of it so well that it
     frustrated him more. No, it was only his thick belt that gave him any hope, but I
     frustrated him there, too.
    Just as I was almost immune to the pain that I would suffer in a good yard fight,
     I was also immune to my father’s thick belt. Tears would come to my eyes. I couldn’t
     stop that, but I kept my lips sealed and my tongue paralyzed. I didn’t even moan.
     I stood or lay there like a piece of wood. I knew my skin was nearly burned off sometimes,
     but I wouldn’t cry out. Finally, he would give up, declaring I was simply impossible.
     I would come to no good. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. He expected that he would
     stand in our living room one day and point at that front door just as he had today.
     Sometimes I thought he was actually looking forward to the opportunity. It had finally
     come, and it wasn’t because of some final straw. The accumulation was just too much.
     He couldn’t swallow down another rule being broken, another law being disobeyed.
    My schoolwork was in shambles. I was barely passing most subjects and failing a few
     in the twelfth grade. I had a good chance of not graduating. Earlier that year, I
     had been caught smoking some weed in the girls’ room. I suspected a girl named Carly
     Forman had informed on me. A few weeks before, I had stolen away her boyfriend, Walter
     Martin. It wasn’t hard to do. Carly was determined to hold on to her virginity. I
     knew Walter’s buddies were with girls who were just the opposite, and he was taking
     some heat for his failure to score. Carly was very proud and vocal about her innocence.
     For me, attracting and tempting Walter was like shooting fish in a barrel. Although
     he wasn’t bad-looking, I wasn’t particularly attracted to him. I did it only to get
     back at Carly, because she loved spreading rumors about me and looking down on me.
    Twice this month, Mama had been called and asked to come to school because of the
     way I had used French words to curse out my teachers. My father had married Mama in
     France and had brought her to America. She still spoke French at every opportunity
     and did so with me and even with him from time to time. I was good