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    Runt of the Litter – (Chapter: 8. Actor's Mask)

    Story written on August 17, 2011 by Tear-Storming Sea.
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    Number of Comments: 1
    Words: 3021
    Story Shortlink: https://www.assertive-maroon-jellyfish.104-250-143-187.cpanel.site/?p=20439
    Author Notes:

    Can a delayed, epileptic Ashley win Spencer Carlin’s heart? Give thanks to those who begrudge us.

    "Oh, let me get that!" my mother exclaims when the doorbell rings.

    Step-aunt Becky, having left the monumental task of calming their daughter with her pushover of a husband, winds her way over to me.

    "So, Ashley, how are you doing in school?"

    "Fine." I lean against a wall, stare straight ahead, and inhale deeply. Then, I nearly choke on the smell of disinfectant that has soaked into my skin.

    "Fine? Really? My brother just told me that you have a D-average in History and English. I certainly hope that’s not your idea of fine." Why the hell would you ask me how I’m doing if you already now? "You must learn how to apply yourself better. Joe and Christine have provided you with wonderful opportunities that most people couldn’t dream of. You are extremely lucky to have such a stable home environment and freedom."

    Overhearing the conversation, Christine’s mother detaches herself from lecturing a friend about how to discipline children (her favorite topic) to join Aunt Becky. "Christy has always done everything for this girl," my grandmother informs us in the air of one who knows more about this subject than anyone else. "The best treatment, the best care, while that bastard of a rock star runs around the country getting drunk."

    There are three types of grandmothers in the world. Those that do nothing but sit in a rocking chair, those that bustle around doing grandmotherly things, and the vicious ones. Guess which one mine is.

    When you look at me and my grandmother you can see the family connection. We have the same face and basic build. Sure, my mother and I both have brown hair and brown eyes, but if a stranger saw a picture of my mother, my father and me they’d never assume that we’re related. Maybe that’s symbolic or something of the state of our family. With my grandmother though, strangers can clearly tell that I’m related to her, and she to my mother.

    Turning towards me, she fixes me with steely eyes. They’re just like my eyes.

    "You better realize how lucky you are, young lady, and appreciate what your parents do for you. You have no excuse for not being at least as good as your siblings. If anything, after all the money and time Christine has devoted to you, you should be exceeding your siblings."

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