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Someone once said that it’s choice, not chance, that determines our destiny. But it was hard for me to process who would ever choose to find what I found.

It was chance.

Choice Vs. Chance

Someone once said that it’s choice, not chance, that determines our destiny. My head made the choice to end things with Matty. But my heart…

…my heart was still waiting for the chance that my head might…reconsider.

Did I screw up my destiny? Or was my fate supposed to stink?

But it was settled. I was going to the dance with Jake. With special guest star Tamara. With T by my side, a good time at the dance was all but in the cards…contingent upon one more thing. If I wasn’t going to let fate influence my decisions, I wouldn’t let some vile letter do it either. It was time to put my past where it belonged. In the past.

Unlike Matty, Jake wasn’t afraid to be a dork. And I was ready to dork out with him. I was living in the moment. And I didn’t know if it was by chance or by choice. But I didn’t care. It was time for me…to bust a move.

On the dance floor, Tamara found out that Ricky had been her missed connection. I told Jake I’d explain it later, but in truth, the story was short. Tamara had connected with the guy she thought was missing. Which made me wonder if I was still missing the guy I had been connected to?

And then I stopped thinking. And I let myself live in the moment. Everything with Jake was easy. Everything was as it was meant to be. Cuz finally the other guy I had been pining over was all but a distant…

…forty feet away.

Matty had come to find me at the dance. Clusterf*ck #1. And…he saw me in a lip-lock with Jake. Clusterf*ck #2. We were speaking in code and he wanted to know if it was too late. Too late to be with me. I was confused. I didn’t know if I should listen to my head…or my heart. So I went with my hand….that slipped into Jake’s.

One door to my heart had closed. Which meant a new one could open. And Jake was more than welcome to walk through it.

Seeing Jenna

Somewhere along the way, I was trying so hard to fit in that I lost myself. New Jenna was more visible, but I couldn’t see Old Jenna in her anymore.

And now that I realized it, I owed it to the old invisible girl in me to be bold again. Asking Jake to the formal was just the first step. I was leaving my Renaissance and heading into my Golden Age. Cuz I wasn’t “that girl” anymore…and I wasn’t “Matty’s girl” either. I was Jenna Hamilton.

Take Care

“As you are now, you could disappear and no one would notice.” I wish it were true. I had assumed my rep as a suicide case was all but dead, but my stigma was alive…and kicking me in the ass. Now everyone could read the carefrontation letter and take part in humiliating me even more.

Jake, of course, came to my rescue. Even though I had turned down his winter formal invite, I could still depend on him to make me feel like a normal human being and not a communal punching bag.

But…it was weird. Matty still hadn’t told Jake about us…

And apparently, Matty didn’t want to even go to the dance anymore. How could I be Matty’s girl when I was still his secret? Because I wasn’t Matty’s girl, I was “that girl.” Who never stood a chance of going to the formal. A freak in a fancy dress was still a freak.

While I was reeling about Matty, Tamara found out that she was Ricky Schwartz’s fourth invite. She was ready to write him off. Tamara did deserve better. And she wasn’t the only one.

I had taken great care to be the daughter my mom always wanted and the girl Matty wanted to be with. But along the way, I lost sight of myself. It was time to take care of me and I wasn’t gonna sit around and cry about it. Okay. Maybe a little.

Doubtful

The Matty investigation was inconclusive. But if I was a judge…

I’d throw his case outta court.

Reasonable Doubt

So Tamara didn’t write the letter. It was a bittersweet discovery. Okay, more sweet than bitter, but even though it meant my best friend didn’t totally hate me, it also meant I still didn’t know who did.

Was it possible that Matty wrote it?

If Tamara was right and he was molding me in private so he could take me out in public…then he saw me as someone who was worth putting all this effort into. Sure, it was a backhanded compliment, but in a screwed up way, maybe it was kind. Okay. Maybe that would just be totally douchey. Possibly with a hint of misguided sweetness?

While Tamara made a good case with her “Law and Order” logic, I just couldn’t wrap my mind around Matty writing the letter. I mean…He was a remedial speller. And that was proof enough for me to exonerate him

Bitter or Sweet Sixteen?

In the movie “Sixteen Candles”, it took her awhile, but Molly Ringwald figured it out. Lesson learned: you shouldn’t be afraid to be who you are, because even hot guys will like you if you like yourself. Clearly, I had been going about things all wrong. How was I supposed to be accepted by everybody else when I hadn’t even accepted myself?

“Jenna, as you are now, you could disappear and no one would notice.” Truth was, sometimes I wanted to disappear. But I wasn’t going to.

I thought sixteen was setting itself up to be the worst year of my life, but I was born at 7:32 p.m., which meant…I was still fifteen. My bad day- was just that—a bad day and the end of an era cuz Matty wanted to be more than my friend.

As far as I was concerned, fifteen could suck it. Because sixteen…well, it was starting off pretty damn good.

Best Friends For…Never?

I never thought that Tamara and I would end up where we were. Tamara and I argued sometimes, but in all the years we’d been friends, we’d never had a huge nails-out, eye-scratching fight. But…I kind of wished we had that instead of the iceberg-tundra thing we had going on. And I didn’t know if we would ever thaw out.

I should’ve been mad at her for writing the heinous letter, but I wasn’t. I was still…in shock.

What had I done that made her write me that letter? How long had she had all these issues with me? The letter was not a random act. Everything it said had been seriously thought out. Our friendship was over. Or was it? After avoiding me for days, Tamara looked right at me, like she was totally open to my face-mail. My dad was right, she was throwing me a birthday bone. Or not…it just was a momentary mirage in the desert of dissing.

I used to feel bad for David Shapiro, eating by himself every day…until I found out he wasn’t really eating alone. He had imaginary friends. Which, theoretically, was like six to ten more than I had.

Basically, I was stuck with Valerie- my counselor. And her birthday “rap” –while well-intentioned- was about the nail in my bad birthday coffin. Up until that moment, the rumors of my death wish had been greatly exaggerated.

I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. I had just received another gift…of the monthly variety. And since Tamara was the keeper of the back-up pants, there was no way I was getting my hands on them.

Birthday Bashed

There were a million reasons why I didn’t want to get out of bed. But apparently the universe wasn’t gonna let me sleep.

After throwing a hardschool kegger, I had over three hundred friends. But I wasn’t deluded by my surge in popularity. I knew the difference between real friends and virtual ones. My real friends weren’t talking to me. Although to be fair, Ming couldn’t. Literally.

While Ming was suffering from the kissing disease, I was sick over a kiss. A drunken lip slip that had cost me Tamara’s friendship. And after alienating Matty and possibly Jake, my friendscape was pretty barren.

But making new friends wasn’t going to be a problem. I had the interweb.

…Which was full of creeps. If the day ever comes where I do want to see a random dude’s penis over a video chat, someone please just shoot me.

If my life had an escape button, I would’ve checked out for the day. There was only one small problem. It was my goddamn birthday.

And there was nothing happy about it. It was just another crap day in two thousand suck.

Forgive or…please forget.

In my attempt to remember the night, I’d discovered why some things were convenient to forget. My head was throbbing. But it wasn’t just from lack of hydration, it was also from excessive humiliation. And the question still remained: had I attacked Matty with my tongue? In more ways than one? And did I ruin his shoes?

No. F-ing. Way.

I KISSED RICKY SCHWARTZ?!

This was bad. This was bad bad. This was the Colossus of bad. They were going to build a giant freaking statue commemorating my horror and terrible decision-making and unintended bestie betrayal. And then they’d probably build another. Whoever “they” were.

And it was public. Who knew how many people saw the picture…not to mention the actual event? The kiss was just an additional thing I could add to the list of reasons why I’d potentially just screwed up everything with Matty. But for now, Matty could wait. Tamara couldn’t. I had to talk to her before doing anything else.

The kiss didn’t mean anything. I didn’t even remember it. If only I could make her forget it, too…

…she’d understand, right?

Blacked Out and Whacked Out

I’ll admit, I was a total newbie to the party-throwing thing. But, even as a newbie, I knew that blacking out during your own shindy was a total party foul. So…I was a newbie with duck tape around her boobies.

At least the worst that could have happened, didn’t. When I woke up with someone next to me in bed, I had a momentary panic that I had swapped sweat (and other things) with one of the Barneys my mom had warned me against. Was it possible that my mother let a guy sleep in my bed? Dumb question. Of course it was. But the person practically spooning me was Ally. Never had I been so glad to see her.

Funny thing about getting drunk…nothing. For six hours, I was walking and talking and the memory was nonexistent in my brain. I was spiral city. In every sense. Tamara wasn’t answering her phone so I needed a cyber forensic ASAP cuz according to Ally, I’d gotten come action. And apparently so did my home page.

Peer-ent Pressure

For fifteen years, my mother’s form of parenting was to peer-ent. She was all about crossing inapprorpriate boundaries. So the fact that she was finally acting appropriate felt…suspicious. Something was definitely up.

It was ninety-five degrees in November. And there was a funk in the air. Maybe an earthquake was about to hit…

Unfortunately, it was another natural disaster. My mom’s BFF Ally. I would have preferred the earthquake. My suspicions were correct. My mom was buttering me up to cushion the blow. And man did Ally blow. Hard. She was the most immature thirty two year old in the world. Example: she made a bad suicide joke in my presence. Ally claimed she was the queen of treading lightly. This was coming from a woman who had simply referred to me as Lil’ Bitch since the day I was born.

Ally needed a serious reality check. But I knew she wouldn’t get it from my mom…. who indulged any and all of her crazy whims. And this time, that meant throwing me kegger. Apparently, Ally was being “generous” and “open.” The only thing open about Ally were her legs. And all I could do was pray she’d keep them closed at my party. God forbid, my mother’s bestie go down for pedophilia. Hmm…or was that a bad thing?

Social Death or Social Resurrection?

Things don’t always go as planned. Especially in situations involving me and Matty. It was the first time I listened to my instincts. And not only did Matty refuse to introduce me to his brother, but I got a door slammed in my face. Even in private he was shutting me out. Where was the Grim Reaper when I needed him?

Was it because of my stigma? He was even embarrassed for his drunk brother to see me? I needed answers. I was tired of being Matty’s secret. As I walked to my very public death, I couldn’t help but wonder: Did I just kill my private relationship with Matty McKibben?

Luckily, I didn’t have much time to think about it because Jake was still dying to talk about our kiss and what it meant. He probably could have picked a better time than mid-blood squirt to confess that he had feelings for me. But when I thought about it…I definitely had feelings too. Were they feelings for Jake? Or was it the feeling you get right before you die?

Dead Stacey ended up living, thanks to a brilliant intervention by Drunk Natalie aka Tamara. I was sure playing Dead Stacey would result in social suicide. But instead, my reputation was resurrected. The event was a hit. I was applauded. And Matty gave me a VERY public hug. For the first time…I got the attention I was looking for.

Over My Dead Body

Valerie needed me to avert career suicide but to help her I would have to commit social suicide…again. I knew I couldn’t make her understand that I didn’t want to have another fake death hanging over my head. So…I lied.

Because it should have made sense that my parents wouldn’t want to promote my stigma. How was I supposed to know that Valerie would SHOW UP TO MY HOUSE!!! Or that my mom would encourage me to make a public display of my suicide stigma as Dead Stacey. Cuz it was cool in 1995 when she played her. According to my mother, Dead Stacey was popular before she got impaled by the glass of Johnny’s windshield. Therefore, playing someone popular would only increase my chances of being seen as popular. In crazy mom logic- this made sense. But what didn’t make sense was my dad’s reluctance to help me get out of it. I was giving him all the “save me!” signals and he couldn’t throw me a line. When I told him that I didn’t want to encourage my suicide stigma- he told me to “Change the coversation.” I was so over my dad and his haiku advice. Change the conversation? I had no idea what that meant. All I knew was that I was stuck between a rock and a dead place. I had been caught in a lie and even though I was convinced Valerie had a touch of Aspergers, I didn’t want her to lose her job. So there was not much I could do but…die.

Calling All Attention!

In high school, attention was a drug. Everyone was jonesing for it. Including Principal Cox. Attention was weird. The people who had it seemed not to want it. And the people who didn’t have it seemed to want nothing more.

Refocusing attention was my current strategy. I was playing hard to get with a guy that was hard to get. It seemed to be working and I wasn’t going to give in to Matty’s private sexcapades until I got some public attention.

I was feeling good. For once, I was gonna be in control of how Matty and everyone else saw me.Until, of course, I got picked to play Dead Stacey. It was not the kind of attention I was looking for. Other girls would have killed to be in my shoes. Playing Dead Stacey was bigger than being homecoming queen, but I was trying to bury my suicide stigma, not advertise it.

And speaking of unwanted attention…Jake’s obsession with our accidental kiss was one more thing that would just not die. After it happened, I had called him and tried to smooth the situation out. I told him that we were friends and these things just sometimes happen. He agreed, so I thought we were cool. And yet somehow, he was still tweaking about it. He needed to take an emotional antacid, because the facts were simple: he had a girlfriend. I had a…Matty.

I was starting to realize that there was really something to the playing hard to get thing. Whoever said, “If you build it, they will come” was wrong. Tear it down. They come running.

Power Play

Sadie had set me up. And I had her food journal. Which meant-- I was finally prepared to exact revenge.

Or was I? Sadie didn’t just hate me, she hated herself. And she was as powerless to the stigma of her weight as I was to the stigma of my fake suicide. Was it possible that we had something in common? And then I saw it—the scribbled words “Jenna Hamilton is an oozing skitch.” Was she still worth feeling sorry for?

Fuck that. I had to take the bitch down. I was tired of laying down on the tracks and letting her flatten me over and over again. I wasn’t going to play nice anymore. I was ready to show my hand. And what I had in my hand was more than enough to get what I wanted from her.

Surprisingly, what I wanted was to do something nice for my mom. She was powerless to the PV moms as I was to the PV daughters. I didn’t want to be in the elite Knick Knacker world, but I owed it to mom make things right and get her in.

So I let Sadie know that I had her food journal and she wouldn’t be seeing it back – except on the internet- unless my mom and I got a bid for the Knick-Knackers. Do you even need to guess what happened?

I had sealed the deal for my mom. So it was time to seal one for myself. It was time to put the carefrontation letter to rest…but when Sadie said if she’d written the letter she’d have signed her name to it, I knew my suspicion was wrong. She was telling the truth.

But if Sadie didn’t write the letter, who did? It was still a mystery. But I was suddenly clear about where my powered lied. Where Sadie’s power was about being cruel, I decided mine was about being kind.

Power was a zero-sum game. When you allow someone else to take it, they will. Matty had all the power in our relationship because I let him.

But that was about to change.

Uncharitable Charity

It was Saturday, but instead of kicking back, my mother was forcing me to attend a party thrown by the elite mother/daughter charity league known as the “Knick-Knackers.” Unfortunately, three spots were open. And I was sick at the thought of actually landing one. Cuz the Knick-Knackers weren’t obsessed with helping the homeless. They were obsessed with…

Plastic. Plastic was the power currency of Palos Verdes. In the skin and in the wallet. To be a certified PV mom meant you had to rock a bodacious body and a black AmEx. Neither of which were earned by a day job. To be a PV mom, working meant working-out or working a room. Or being a Knick-Knacker.

And my mom was going to stay up in my grill until she became one.

So there I was powerless to my mother’s subtle persuasion—to stop embarrassing her.

I was also strangely powerless to the feeling that the house belonged to someone emotionally disturbed. Or worse…evil incarnate. Mo to the fo. I was in Sadie Saxton’s house. And it made sense… the devil would absolutely hide himself behind an altruistic organization. Needless to say - after Sadie cited number seven on the letter- “you have to be cruel to be kind”- I knew she was the author. So there I was in my enemy’s house enduring a bogus benefit. My hellacious day was complete…or was it? Cuz Matty was there- working the party- and ignoring me. Up until then we had a very textual relationship. But a lot of the time, when we were out in public, I couldn’t figure out our subtext. He was…awkward. And that made me awkward.

Sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder if his weirdness in public was a power play. I knew that deep down, Matty and I had some kind of connection. But maybe he was putting on his incompetence at social situations so that he could control what we were. Matty didn’t want to be in a relationship. If we didn’t appear to be in one, then we weren’t in one.

But, on the other hand, it was really hard to believe that Matty was that calculating. And I didn’t want to believe it.

I wanted to hang out with him. Alone. And just when I thought I might get the chance for a little non-awkward Matty time, Jake popped up out of nowhere.

I hadn’t seen Jake since he’d impulsively shoved his tongue down my throat. And by the look of him, you would’ve thought I never gave it back. I had to get out of there. And I did. And Matty still hasn’t texted me back since Wednesday. Sigh.

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