Chapter Twelve
Raven
I’m glad to report that I’ve made some progress on the song I’m writing. I mean, I’m still struggling with writer’s block, but I at least have an opening verse.
Of course it’s a love song—what else? Everyone loves listening to love songs.
I started writing it before Kylen arrived at HBA, but I couldn’t come up with the perfect opening.
I can’t count how many pieces of paper I crumpled into a ball and threw at the garbage bin.
Kylen’s arrival made it impossible for me to even come up with the perfect verse.
But I’m glad I’ve managed to push through.
This song is about meeting your perfect soulmate.
He or she might not be the perfect person in the world, since everyone has flaws, but that person is perfect for you.
You can look past their imperfections because you get to know the beautiful soul inside.
Every person, no matter who they are or where they come from, has worth.
They have a spark inside them that makes them different from everyone else.
Makes them shine just a bit brighter than the people around them.
I think that’s what a lot of people search for in a soulmate.
That special thing that makes the person unique and perfect in their eyes.
Now, the only problem is conveying that sentiment into lyrics.
I go at it for about half an hour before dropping my pen and rubbing my forehead.
I think a headache is starting to form. Sometimes, I rack my brain just a bit too hard when I’m trying to come up with the perfect lyrics.
I don’t even know why it’s so important to me.
I haven’t shown my lyrics to anyone, not my family or my closest friends.
Sophie accidentally saw them once, where I mentioned a guy I met at camp after freshman year.
That’s how this whole Camp Lover Boy started.
Of course I tried to deny the dude existed, but I can’t really lie to my friends. They always see right through me.
I’m about to reach for my notebook and try once again, but my phone buzzes with the name “Robin” flashing on the screen as a video call. My little sister just got a phone for her twelfth birthday a few months ago. We usually text, so I’m surprised to see that she’s video calling me.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say as I answer the call.
“Hi, Raven. Are you busy?”
Her dark hair, the same shade as everyone else in my family, is pulled into a high ponytail that sweeps against her upper back. She’s sitting on her bed in a dark room, as though she didn’t open the light or her window shades. Her brown eyes, which are usually bright with life, are dimmed, too.
“I’m not really busy,” I tell her, putting my notebook aside and discarding my pen. “Just writing some lyrics. Or, I’m trying to.”
“Oh. Are you sure you’re not busy? I know how absorbed you get when you write.”
“I always have time for you, little bug,” I assure her with a smile. “You okay?”
“Yeah…” She stares off in the distance, clearly bothered or distracted by something. “I just called because I miss you.”
My sister is similar to me in many ways.
She also likes to keep her thoughts and feelings to herself.
We’re super close, but sometimes I need to figure out how to pull information out of her because she doesn’t volunteer it easily.
And of course I need to make sure I don’t accidentally push her away in the process.
“I miss you a lot, too, Robbie. It feels like forever since we saw each other on Parents’ Day.”
“Yeah.” She focuses her gaze back on me. “It was like four months ago. When is the next one?”
“In a few weeks. I can’t wait to see how much you’ve grown. You’re probably taller than me.”
That makes her lips lift in a smile. “Not true. I measured myself against yours on the wall and I’m still shorter than you. It would be so weird if I were taller than you. Everyone would think I’m the older sister when we’re, like, older.”
Even though some light has entered her eyes, I see there’s something weighing heavily on her heart. “Is school okay?” I ask. “Mom told me you’re one of the top students in your class. That’s so awesome, Robin.”
She nods, but she doesn’t seem to be glad about that.
“That doesn’t make you happy?” I ask.
“Why would it? It doesn’t make the kids at school suddenly want to be my friend.”
Another thing we have in common is our struggle to make friends.
Robin made a best friend in kindergarten, but she moved away this summer, leaving Robin all alone.
My parents told her not to worry because they were sure she’d make new friends easily, but it’s way into the school year and she hasn’t made a single friend.
“Yeah, being a good student just makes the other kids jealous,” I say softly. “Parents and teachers tell kids all the time to strive to do well, but they don’t get that sometimes it doesn’t have a good effect on their social status.”
“I wish you were home.” She lowers her eyes. “Sorry if that’s selfish. I know you love Harrington.”
“It’s not selfish,” I assure her. “Sometimes I wish I were home, too.”
She lifts her eyes. “If you were here, I bet you’d tell them off.”
I move my face closer to the screen. “Tell who off?”
“You can be scary sometimes, Raven. I bet you’d scare them away. It sucks to have a big sister who’s not around.”
My heart rate starts to gallop and dread turns my blood cold. “Robbie, are kids bothering you at school?”
She lowers her eyes again, and I can tell she’s kicking her shoe against the floor. “Maybe.”
I curse under my breath.
Robin’s face snaps up with a shocked expression. “Hey! You owe me a quarter.”
“Are kids really bullying you, Robin?”
“It’s not a big deal,” she says. “They’re just being stupid. They pick on everyone who’s not part of their group.”
“And teachers don’t say anything?”
She gives me a look. “Don’t you know teachers are always so clueless?”
“Middle school sucks, little bug. I remember that age well. The kids at my school were brutal. Do you want to tell Mom or Dad?”
“And look like a baby? Or a narc? No way.”
“Telling an adult that a kid is bullying you is not a babyish thing to do. It actually shows maturity.”
“Would you tell Mom or Dad if kids were picking on you?” she throws at me.
“Well…”
“See? It’s easy to tell me to tell a parent when you’re not involved in the whole thing. In reality, it’s not so easy.”
“You’re right, Robin. These things are never easy. But I hate seeing you so upset, and it kills me that I can’t do anything from here.”
“That’s okay. It’s not like they’re being physical or anything. They mostly just pick on my shoes.”
“What’s wrong with your shoes?”
Her face lights up. “I just bought them a few weeks ago. I love them.” She lowers her phone to her shoes so I can see them. They’re bright pink sneakers with neon green shoelaces. I admit they’re a bit too noisy for me, but they match Robin’s full-of-life personality. They suit her perfectly.
“They’re awesome.”
“Thanks.” She beams down at them proudly. “I had to like bribe Mom to buy them for me. I’m now the dish pig of the family. I made the deal before the dishwasher broke. Just my luck, right? I’m scrubbing like a freakin’ slave.”
I laugh. “It’s a labor of love.”
“Totally.” The smile vanishes from her face. “Valerie and her friends think my shoes are weird. They call them an arts and crafts project gone wrong.”
“I know this is easier said than done, but ignore them. They’re obviously jealous of you.”
Her brows shoot up. “Why would they be jealous of me?”
“You wear those shoes because you love them. You don’t care what other people think.”
“I do care,” she insists. “But I’ll still wear them.”
“See? That’s a confidence most people don’t have. And they’re jealous of that.”
She shrugs. “If you say so.”
“You’ll get through your middle school years,” I promise. “It might seem like you won’t, but you will. And then you’ll be in high school—”
“Which will be worse.”
“Not necessarily. I had a pretty tough time in the beginning of ninth grade. But now these are some of the best years of my life.”
“Do you think I’ll meet fun and kind girls in high school like you did?” Her eyes shine with hope. “Maybe Olivia will move back to Boston and we’ll be in the same high school.”
“Anything is possible. I can’t promise what will happen, but the most important thing is for you to stay true to yourself. Because you, Robin Mitchell, are one amazing kid. If the kids at your school don’t realize that, it’s their loss.”
“You sound like Mom.”
“I do? Darn.”
She giggles. “But thanks. It’s good advice, even if it’s useless. It’s a dog-eat-dog world in middle school.”
“I would say you’re exaggerating, but you’re actually right. Just be a good person and be kind to those around you. Maybe someone will see that special spark in you and they’ll want to be your friend. Or maybe you’ll catch the eye of a cute boy.”
Her eyes get huge as her face turns as red as a tomato. “A guy? Yeah, right.”
“Why not? You’re so amazing, Robin. And you’re really pretty. You inherited that beautiful dark hair that refused to look at me once.”
Robin chuckles. “Yeah, it took one look at you and said, ‘No thank you.’ But I always thought you look so pretty as a blonde.”
“Thanks, sis.” I move closer to the screen again. “You’re good, Robbie? Did our talk help a little?”
“I don’t know if what you said will help with school, but I feel much better that we talked.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You know you can call me whenever you want. You don’t have to only text.”
“Really? I won’t be an annoying, pesky little sister?”
“Of course not. It’s my job as the older sister to help you. I know there are things you’d rather not talk to Mom or Dad about.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” She smiles. “Thanks, Raven. You’re the best big sister in the world.”
“And you’re the best little sister in the world. If the kids still bother you, tell me, okay? I don’t want you to bottle up all your feelings. I tend to do that, too. But the best thing is to talk about them with someone you trust or are close to.”
She nods. “I will. Mom, Dad, and I are going to watch a movie in an hour. I should get ready.”
“Nice. Well, have fun. And good luck with everything.”
“You, too. Bye.”
I hang up and sigh. My sister is at such a difficult age. I don’t know why some kids are so cruel, but I guess everyone goes through it. I wish I were there to help her. I definitely would tell those girls off. No one messes with my sister.
But Robin is strong, much more than she thinks. And definitely much more than me. I know she’ll be okay.