trial is over. I was acquitted of the murder charges, but it is hard to
go on when even your parents think you are guilty. My friends had to testify
at the trial and they didn't even stand up for me or meet my eyes once
during the whole thing. The closest anyone came to really looking at me
was when Chard had to point at me, but he didn't look at me, not even when
he left the stand. So I was alone during the whole trial, and my best friend
is gone forever. Aimee took away all of my other friends, and my family
too. She even tried on that last night to take Chard from me. I didn't
think that this could happen. Friends don't commit suicide.
My parents decided that I needed
a fresh start, so we have moved to a new town to escape the stigma of the
trial. Whether we moved for them, or me I don't know. I have no friends.
And to top it all off, I have to see a court-ordered psychiatrist. Actually,
this is the fourth one that I've seen. It was part of my sentence. I call
it "My Plan to Become Normal Again."
My parents think that everything
these quacks have tried is psychobabble, garbage in other words, but that's
because they want to pretend that nothing's happened. We are supposed to
be a perfectly normal family with one child, no divorce, a large income
and three cars, counting the SUV and they don't want anything to rock that
boat. It's unstable enough as it is.
The shrink, I call her Marge
(the name seems to fit her) wants me to write everything in a journal.
So last night, I wrote about how awful it is to have to go to shrinks,
and how awful my parents are - ladder climbing kiss-ups. I wanted to look
cooperative. But Marge didn't like that. She told me that it wasn't useful
stuff. She handed it back to me and said that I needed to write about what
it used to be like with Aimee, Chard, Kates, Jason and Kyle. She wanted
me write about what I felt and thought and what was important to me. She
promised that she wouldn't read it unless I wanted her too. I was tempted
to look up into her eyes, but I didn't want her to see the doubt in mine.
I don't know if I can write
about what happened and come out whole - ALIVE. I don't know if I can look
back. Besides, if I tell it, who will listen? No one believes us- the kids
that is. They all think we have it so great, and that this is the best
times of our lives. When people tell me that, I want to puke. If this is
the best time of my life, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life looking
back at this with fondness, then I should just end this right now.
Aimee, I didn't mean that.
Aimee I'm sorry, but Marge
may be right. I've been so uncooperative with the other shrinks, and there's
no one else left one the list of acceptable list the judge gave my parents,
that I guess I will try writing the journal. It is easier that talking
about it and I don't have to show it to anyone. So, here goes.
Marilyn Bunker (Colorado
Blue Spruce Children's Award)