Free Alone at 90 Foot by Katherine Holubitsky Page A

And now, I’m this semi-adult who has to make these major decisions about what I’m going to do with the rest of life. The thing is, I don’t want this happening. Not yet. Not now. Not without my mom knowing. But I can’t make it stop. My whole world is changing, getting way out of my control. When I want it to stand still. But it’s not just me. Everyone around me is changing. There’s this whole major attitude change that sucks.
    Like our teachers. Two years ago, they didn’t act like it was a pain if we asked them questions. A few years ago, they had patience with us. Now, it seems we’re too difficult to teach. Like if we open our mouths, they can’t wait to get them shut.
    In stores the sales clerks used to be helpful. Now, they follow us around like hawks. On the other hand, reluctantly remembering “The Peach Sweater Incident,” I guess they have every right.
    Then there are the other things. Like trying to get used to these gazelle legs of mine. And like my period which started. And other parts of me bugging out. Some days, I’m so sore and tender and bloated and achy. But there’s no one I can tell. Not even Dad. Because I hate to say it, but he’s part of all this.It’s like I’ll break or something if he plays with me, throws me around the way he used to. Or like he’ll get a disease if he gives me a giant hug. Sometimes, I think it might be something I’ve done.
    Boys in general have gone weird. Two years ago, they acted real stupid. But at least they ignored us. Now, they act even more stupid, but they do it staring at our chests. I hate it. Can you imagine if we stared at them in a certain place like that? They’d be so self-conscious they’d probably duck out of the room, thinking something was majorly wrong.
    I wish there was someone I could talk to. Other than Joanne and my friends. We have discussions about these things, but they don’t amount to much. Like last summer, when we were tanning on my back lawn. Joanne insisted you’re a woman the minute you get your first period. You’re a woman because you can have a baby if you want.
    â€œThat’s stupid,” Linda told her. “How can my little sister be a woman? She got her period when she was eight.”
    Then Mandeep said, “I think Joanne is right. You’re a woman when you can procreate. When it comes down to it, isn’t that the reason we were put on this earth?”
    â€œProcreate?” said Linda.
    â€œYeah, you know, reproduce.”
    Linda frowned, like she always does when ourtalk turns to semi-serious stuff. “Okay. Maybe. But what if you don’t get your period? Say, like, for some medical reason, and you can never procreate. Does that mean you’re a child your entire life?”
    â€œYeah, Joanne,” Mandeep now agreed with Linda. “Or what about if you don’t get your period, but you have a test-tube baby or whatever. So what does that make you then?”
    Joanne shrugged. “Well, I guess if you’re twenty or something, a woman, I guess.”
    â€œSo it comes down to age?” said Mandeep. “Legally, you’re an adult when you turn eighteen.” I’m not sure how I knew that.
    â€œPam’s right. So, that’s it. You’re a woman when you turn eighteen.” Linda settled back in the lawn chair and closed her eyes.
    Mandeep looked at her watch. “Time to turn,” she said, sipping her lemonade in the shade of the umbrella. She’s our timekeeper when we tan, but she never tans herself. She says she’s brown enough already.
    The rest of us flipped to our stomachs. We were quiet for a while, letting the hot sun soak into our backs.
    â€œI still think it’s when you start your period,” said Joanne.
    Aside from my height and the period thing, there are a zillion other changes since Mom. Myentire wardrobe is different. My hair has grown six inches