Read Online I'm Not Her by Janet Gurtler - Free Book Online Page A

and then swinging a club.
    He swings at the air. “I get free golf games once in a while, a perk of my job as grounds keeper at Largurt Country Club. I figure it’s like a phys ed class, you know. I should get credit for it.”
    “My dad golfs there,” I tell him. The only reason Dad has friends outside work is for golf.
    He nods. “I know who your dad is. He’s a gold member. He has killer clubs.” He glances at his watch again. The strap is beat-up and its face looks scratched. It’s funny, not many kids my age actually wear watches. “You want a ride to wherever you’re going?” he asks.
    “No.” My voice drops. “I’m heading home. And I have my bike.”
    He dangles his car keys around his finger. “I could put your bike in my trunk and give you a lift if you want. I don’t mind.”
    “No, it’s okay.” I don’t want him near our stupidly big house. Or Kristina, which I know makes me a really bad sister, but for some reason I want to keep him for myself. I remember what Kristina said about him. That he’s a boy-slut. But he seems pretty nice. And it’s not like he’s about to make any moves on me.
    “You’re the boss.” We both walk to my bike on the sidewalk, with my books piled beside it, close to where he’s parked.
    In the sunlight his face doesn’t look pimply. He’s got normal teenage skin. He takes a step and bends down to pick up my bike, straightens, and holds it out to me. “You sure you’re okay to ride this crazy pink thing?”
    “Fine,” I tell him, and take the bike. “I’m fine.”
    We both know I’m lying, but he holds out his hand and takes my books while I climb on my bike. When I’m on, he hands them to me and I tuck them under my arm and grab the handlebar with the other hand.
    “See you around, Tess the freshman.”
    “Tess the Mess,” I mumble and start to pedal away.
    “Hey,” he calls. I look around and he winks at me. “You’re kinda cute when you get all flustered.”
    My insides smoosh around. The bike wobbles.
    “Well, for a freshman,” he calls.
    “My sister told me you were a man-whore,” I yell over my shoulder and then wonder if I’ve lost my mind.
    I hear him snort. “See ya around,” he calls. I hide a smile and concentrate on the road so I don’t wipe out in front of him…again. He called me cute! Ha! Even though it’s pretty clear he only said it because he feels sorry for me, it was nice. People surprise me. That much I know.
    When I get home, Kristina is locked in her room. I tell Mom she needs to call in sick to the school for me. She gives me a funny look but goes ahead and calls the school.
    I go to my room and pull out my sketchbook. Lines and textures flow from me. I’m inspired by images in my head. I’ve decided on a piece that is sort of a volcano landscape but suggests so much more, says something a little deeper. I sketch and know I’m not quite where I want to be, but getting closer. I lose myself in my work and slowly the realities of life disappear.
    Escape is one of a million reasons I love art. I want to win this contest so badly I can taste it. The taste is better than warm pecan pie, my favorite dessert in the entire world. Winning would change my life. Change how people see me. How I see myself. It would show everyone who I am. Besides Kristina’s little sister.
    Through the walls, Kristina coughs. My concentration broken, I put my pencil down. My giddiness fades. I’m thinking about winning a stupid contest. Kristina is thinking about dying.

chapter six
    My whole family is squeezed into one of a few cubicles in a row at the doctor’s office. A thin curtain shields us from the hallway.
    Mom insists we pile inside and wait with Kristina after she changes into a blue paper gown. Kristina is pale, but still looks as pretty as ever. Her hair is pulled up high in a ponytail. It’s shiny and blond. She looks like she should be on a box of hair color.
    Dad and I stand, but Mom sits with Kristina on the examining