My friend Emily and I carpool to choir on Tuesdays. We are both in the Santa Maria choir, second highest in the Columbus Children’s Choir. Her mother took us to pictures on Sunday.
I have recently started cutting again, and when I did it again for the first time, I hacked my arm up so bad I had to wear long sleeves for about four days before the redness went down. Sunday was one of the days I needed to keep my arms covered. That was okay, our choir uniforms are long sleeved.
Mrs. P took us to this Mexican restaurant before we went to our Confirmation meeting later. Emily and I decided to eat in our uniforms, so we wouldn’t get anything on the clothes we were wearing to Church. In fear of getting salsa stained on our white shirts, we rolled the sleeves up. I rolled mine up without even remembering that I cut again.
My friend’s mom saw my cuts. She didn’t say anything, but I saw the look on her face. I didn’t react. I’m good at doing that. When Emily went to change before the meeting, I was talking to Mrs. P and she was staring at my exposed arm. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t ask me anything, but I know that she knows that those cuts are self-inflicted.
She saw them, and I don’t want anyone to know, but of people who I most don’t want to know, Mrs. P would be pretty high on that list.Â She’s one of my best friend’s mothers, how she takes it. I might not be allowed to hang out with Em anymore, or she’ll tell my mother.
Someone on another site told me that I might as well go ahead and tell her the truth, but I’m holding out for a miracle that maybe she thinks that I am still a happy-go-lucky girl, maybe she thinks that I fell or something. After all, I didn’t react.