It doesn’t run in the family.
I’m not like Bess. At all. I never wanted to cause trouble. I never even wanted to be noticed. I just wanted to fade into the background. I wore beige clothes, let my hair hang over my eyes and slouched.
That was the only thing I ever did that seriously bugged my mother. The slouching, I mean. I felt bad about it, of course—Mum had enough problems without having to worry about my posture—but I just couldn’t get myself to stand up straight.
Maybe that was because I was twelve years old and five-foot seven and nobody that age likes to be five inches taller than the teacher.
But I don’t think so.
I think it was because every time I stood up straight, this voice in my head would start screaming, “Get down! Get Down FOR GOD’S SAKE!” like I was going to get shot by some sniper or something.
I know that’s a crazy over-reaction, but that’s really what I used to think.