Caela Carter - Fifty-Four Things Wrong with Gwendolyn Rogers

For my Sunshine

Who makes me happy

Regardless of the color of the sky.

1. Too demanding
2. Picky eater
3. Attention-seeking
4. Lazy
5. Will only do what she wants to do
6. Socially inept
7. Inattentive
8. Acts without thinking
9. Hyperactive
10. No filter
11. Overly emotional
12. Inflexible thinker
13. Impulsive
14. Constantly interrupting
15. Hard to redirect
16. Sneaky. For ex. eavesdrops
17. Rude/Impolite
18. Defiant
19. Doesnt respect others space
20. Cannot manage transitions
21. Irritable
22. Talks too much
23. Talks too loud
24. Spacey
25. Picky about her appearance
26. Clumsy
27. Unable to multitask
28. Argumentative
29. Swears/Cusses
30. Fidgety
31. Poor sense of time
32. Obsessive
33. Unable to plan ahead
34. Often late
35. Temper tantrums
36. Constant complaining
37. Doesnt follow directions
38. Disorganized
39. Immature
40. Uncoordinated
41. Aggressive
42. Explosive
43. Doesnt listen
44. Irresponsible
45. Forgetful
46. Illogical fears
47. Whiny
48. Impatient
49. Reactive
50. Demonstrates a strong working memory but is unable to use it to her advantage
51. Demonstrates a large vocabulary but is unable to use words to diffuse her anger
52. Remarkably honest for someone who is sneaky
53. Demonstrates an understanding of others feelings despite this not reflecting in her behavior
54. Above average intelligence but not so much as to be exceptional

C upcake.

My moms soft voice and her hand on the back of my head startle me awake. I jump so high I almost hit the ceiling.

You fell asleep with your light on again, Mom says, stroking my hair.

I wiggle my hand from where it was resting on my pillow and snake it down under my comforter until I feel the pages. Still there. Still hidden. My heartbeat evens out, and Im able to talk to Mom in my regular voice.

Sorry, I say. I was reading...

I pat the book next to me on the pillow. Its some corny book about middle school popular crowds and crushes, and Id never read it, but Mom bought it for me at the school book fair so I keep it there on my pillow to distract from what I really read at night.

Its OK, honey, Mom says. But now you should turn your light off. You get better rest that way.

OK, I say.

Mom cant turn my light off because my bed is lofted, and shes standing on the ladder leading up to it. The reading light is above my head, attached to the other side of my bed. The lofted bed was the perfect solution when I started to get homework and wanted a desk in my tiny room. My desk and my chair and Mr. Jojos tank fit perfectly beneath my bed, and theres still enough room by the window for Zombie and Marshmallows aquarium. But it does make it difficult to get in and out of bed in the middle of the night.

Turn it off, OK, honey? Mom says. She sounds tired. Her eyes are red. She pushes her bangs off her forehead like she has a headache. Which she does. She always does. Because she cries. She always cries.

I make her cry.

She thinks I dont know because she waits until Im in this lofted bed to start crying but I hear her while I read my list.

I hand Mom the book, which is how I pretend Im going to turn the light off when she leaves the room, but luckily Mom never comes back to check if I actually turn it off.

Will you tuck me tighter? I wait until shes off the ladder to ask her so that I dont have to see the way the etches in her tired face get deeper when she hears the question.

Oh, Gwendolyn, really? Its almost midnight. I make her so tired.

It helps me sleep, I say.

I dont know how anyone sleeps the way people in movies and TV (and my mom) always seem to sleep. Like the blankets are resting on top of them and could slide in any direction at any minute.

Usually it takes longer to convince her, but Mom must realize she never gets away without tucking me in tighter because she climbs up the ladder again and reaches to the bottom of my mattress, pulling my sheets and blankets snug around my feet. She does the same with the top and folds it so the sheet is exactly under my chin.

I can still wiggle my toes a little, though.

Tighter? I say.

Mom sighs but does it. Then she kisses my forehead, and I try not to wince at the way her bangs brush the bridge of my nose.

As soon as she leaves the room, I pull my hand out from under the blankets and spread the pages in front of my face. I leave my light on. I hear Mr. Jojo running around in his cage beneath me. I love having a hamster. I love that someone is awake with me when I read this list in the middle of the night.

The pages are delicate because I shuffle through them constantly and I carry them with me everywhere, every day. I have to. Reminding myself is the only way Ill ever get better.

Tonight, the papers are warm and guilty from being under my blankets. I have to sneak them because, even though it was about me, I was never supposed to read that old IEP educational assessment report when the school mailed it home.

But I did read it.

Then I wrote a list.

Now I have a list.

And now I need the list.

Even though its wrong and bad like everything else I do and everything else I need.

I wiggle to my side, careful not to let the blanket loosen too much, and start over from the top, reading until my eyes get heavy.

FIFTY-FOUR THINGS WRONG WITH GWENDOLYN ROGERS

1. Too demanding
2. Picky eater
3. Attention-seeking
4. Lazy
5. Will only do what she wants to do
6. Socially inept

My eyes close. Ill start again at number 7 tomorrow night.

The next day, its a regular normal day, and were on the way to school, and Mom is talking. The mornings are always the best because I havent had a chance to mess anything up yet. My list is folded up super tiny and tucked inside my shoe as always. I try to focus on the way its poking into the arch of my foot. Sometimes when I focus on one thingbamthen I can magically focus on something else. Today its not working. Im trying to pay attention, but Moms words dance across my brain like brown and gray horses galloping in red and pink saddles.

Oh, Mom! I say, launching my head in between the front seats of our car. I like to sit in the middle of the back because that means Im the farthest from all the windows, but I can see out of them all at the same time. I forgot to tell you something.

Gwendolyn, you just interrupted me, Mom says.

14. Constantly interrupting

22. Talks too much

No, I didnt, I say.

28. Argumentative

Maybe I did interrupt. But there was so much going on in my brain before my mom started talking, it felt like she was interrupting me.

Anyway, do you know what my brother said?

Mom sighs. I really need you to pay attention. What I was saying was important.

I dont answer her because what I have to say is important too. I imagine Dandelion. My favorite horse. The one I used to ride all the time. I imagine what her hair felt like when I would run a brush over it.