Becoming Me by Melody Carlson Page B

home before I go off to college. But Ben’s only twelve. I’m sure my dad could tell by my sour expression that I wasn’t taking this whole thing real well, and when he was all finished talking, he turned to me and said, “Are you going to be okay with all this?”
    Then I just looked him straight in the eye and said, “Do you really care?”
    Of course, he said he did. And then I told him if he wanted to hear what I thought, he’d better hear it in private. I think this surprised him a little. Then he asked if we both wanted to go have lunch with him. I told him no thanks, but maybe he should take Ben. And while Ben went upstairs to get his coat, in a very controlled voice, I told Dad that I knew all about Belinda. And furthermore, I told him that I thought he was a liar and a hypocrite and that I no longer respected anything he had to say about church or Christianity or anything for that matter. Then I turned and ran up the stairs before he could say anything. And what, I ask, could he possibly say to that?
    But at least I got it off my chest. Then I threw myself across my bed and cried really hard for a long, long time.
    So, why did God let this happen to us? I mean, here my family’s been going along just fine—all things considered,we were doing pretty well—going to church sometimes and sticking together all these years without any great, big problems. So, why this? Why now? I just don’t get it. And frankly, it just doesn’t seem fair.

SEVEN
Sunday, February 18 (picking up the pieces)
    For the second Sunday in a row, we didn’t go to church today. Not that I really care. I think if God turned his back on us, then we might as well turn our backs on him too. Do you think I could be struck by lightning for writing something like that? Oh well, it might be for the best since I just seem to be making a perfect mess of everything anyway.
    Okay, here’s what happened. Last night I was feeling pretty grumpy. For one thing, there was nothing to do, and Jenny hadn’t called all day, and I didn’t call her because I’m still feeling guilty about what Josh tried (at least I think he tried) the other night. So anyway, I was just hanging around being your basic grump and naturally ended up having a fight with my little brother, who was acting like a total moron and had just made this huge mess in the bathroom that we have to share and I thought he should clean up (what I wouldn’t do for my own bathroom like Jenny has).
    Anyway, Mom actually had to come in and break usapart (Ben’s almost as tall as me now and was getting a little carried away). It was pretty embarrassing to need Mom’s help in fending off my little brother (and I seriously doubt that I’ll be engaging in any more tangles like that with him real soon). I did feel slightly bad ’cause I know Ben’s pretty upset about all this crud with Dad.
    Well as a result, Mom took me into her room to talk, saying all this stuff about how she really needed my help right now, and how I had to take more responsibility and everything. I told her I would try. Then she asked how our talk had gone with my dad today. Well, I couldn’t look her in the eye and answer honestly, so I just said “it went okay.” Then she was acting all understanding and compassionate towards Dad, saying that we just needed to be patient and allow him this time to figure things out.
    Well, that was just too much! So I said, “What are you talking about? Are you going to just sit around here waiting while he figures things out with Belinda?” And it was like I had slapped here across the face. The expression of pain that came in her eyes was more than I could stand to look at, as she asked in a shaky voice, “Who’s Belinda?”
    And then, of course, I just burst into tears and told her the whole sorry story. I mean, what am I supposed to do—she’s my mom for crud’s sake!
    Now talk about a really bad scene. My mom just totally fell to pieces at this bit of news. And I didn’t