Most of highschool for me in is a blur.
I was messed up a lot, on a lot of things, not all of them substances.
Now in what I like to think of as my right mind (Right-er Mind?), re-reading this book, even within the first few pages has all ready reminded me of how relevant it really was and still is to me.
Carol Goodman – The Lake Of Dead Languages
I remember when I bought it from the book store by my house, and that it took me forever to read it, or at least it felt like forever.
I started it in december of 2005, and finished it in january of 2006.
By happenstance January 2006 is when my mothers father died.
I remember reading it in the car on the way to the burial site.
I remember reading it on the blow up mattress in the living room of my Paternal Grandmothers house.
I remember using the light from my MP3 player to read it under the sheets late at night, so I didn’t wake up my brother who was asleep on the couch.
I had gotten off the phone with my boyfriend at the time, he really didn’t understand what a mess I was.
but then again I didn’t either.
I don’t think I really understood what a mess that was until later when I was told more about my mothers family this past summer.
No wonder everything was a mess.
Aethena ( her real name is Ellen Craven, but I have come to think of the girls by the classical names they’ve chosen for class) is the last to finish washing. She asked for extra credit, for more declensions and verb conjugations to learn, so she is up to her elbows in blue ink. She holds out her forarms for me to see and there is no way to avoid looking at the scar on her right arm that starts at the base of her palm and snakes up to the crook of her elbow. She sees me wince.
Athena shrugs “it was a stupid thing to do,” she says. “I was all messed up over this boy last year, you know?”