"I don't want to share a room with him, Dad," I whine.
"I'm sorry, Darian, but that's not going to change. You've known you were sharing with Cameron when we told you about the trip back in July. We have six people and three rooms, you do the math," Dad says, sitting down at the kitchen table with his coffee and a book of crosswords.
"Yeah, but as the only girl, I need my privacy. Cammy can bunk with Adam and Ben," I suggest as an alternative.
"Nope. Not gonna happen," Dad says. "Young lady, you're sharing with Cameron, and that's that."
I plop down in the chair next to him. "But he smells, Daddy. Have you forgotten that we share an apartment at school? I smell him every single day even when he's not there." I shake my head slowly. "And you want to subject me to it during my Christmas vacation, too? I thought you loved me."
"I do love you, pumpkin," he says with a chuckle. "But, you still have to share a room with your brother when we're in Hawaii, okay?"
"Fine, but when the cops arrest me for his murder, don't say I didn't warn you," I announce grumpily.
"Why do you have to be so melodramatic about everything? Is this what you're learning at that college of yours?"
"Well, I am a theater major, but no, this is something I picked up in the nearly twenty years of having a doofus for a twin brother," I say with a smile when Cameron walks in the kitchen.
He sneers at me. "What makes you think I want to share a room with you, itty-bitty," he asks, using the nickname the boys called me back in middle school.
Taken aback, I quickly stand and the chair crashes to the floor. I hiss, "You're such an asshole, Cam."
I hear Cameron and Dad calling me to come back, as I run out the kitchen, and up to my room. I slam the door, locking it behind me, and throw myself onto my bed.
The downside of living with someone who knows everything about you is having them know everything about you. Cameron knows how much that nickname upsets me. It brings back unpleasant memories of the merciless teasing I endured.
In middle school, I was a late bloomer, and the boys never let me forget that I hadn't developed like the other girls.
I thought laughing it off would stop the teasing, but it didn't. And the self-esteem I always prided myself on having started to take on significant damage.
Cameron got into a lot of fights defending me. I told him he didn't have to if it meant he'd get into trouble. His reply was, 'No one makes you cry, Dari. I might not win all the time, but I'll fight anyone who hurts you.' He was there to comfort me even when I wanted to be alone. I cried on his shoulder, and he would tell me everything would be okay. He said the guys at school were boneheads, and they would regret ever teasing me.
Cameron always made me feel better. But not this time, he is the one who hurt me, and I never thought he would.
There is a soft knock on my door.
"Go away," I whimper loudly. Sitting up, I grab Miss Daisy, my stuffed teddy bear that I have had since I was a baby, and hug her. She is my second source of comfort after Cameron.
The doorknob rattles, and there is another soft knock.
"Darian, I'm sorry," Cameron's rich baritone voice calls out softly. "Can you unlock the door please?"
"I don't want to talk to you, Cammy," I say with a shaky breath as tears roll down my cheeks.
"Darian, open the door," he pleads.
I hate hearing the desperation in his voice, but I need him to give me some space. I whimper loudly, "Cameron, please, just go away and leave me alone!"
He doesn't say anything else, but I hear his footsteps retreat from my door and downstairs. I play with the ears of my bear when I hear my phone vibrating. I walk over to my desk to see who is bugging me. It's Cameron, but I don't answer. I put the phone down, strip off my shirt and shorts, and stand naked in front of my full-length mirror. I look at myself from every possible angle. There are no physical signs of that awkward girl from seven years ago, but the mental part of her remains.
It has taken time for me to get comfortable with my body, but young Darian shows up now and then, messing with my newly gained self-confidence.
Puberty was late coming, but very good to me starting the summer of my freshman year and ending somewhere in the middle of my sophomore year of high school. The flat chest replaced by perky 34C's. Years of track & field and playing softball transformed my five-foot-eight gangly body into a well-toned machine. I'm curvy in all the right places. My raven hair no longer stringy and oily, but thick, wavy and bouncy. My clear olive complexion is no longer acne-ridden. My sea green eyes only enhance my exotic look.
Cameron was right. The guys who teased me in middle school were begging me for dates in high school. They apologized, I accepted, but I never forgot. I never dated any of them either. I could never respect myself for dating someone who never showed me respect.
I take another long, hard look at myself and relent to the fact that this is who I am now. I am no longer... itty-bitty.
There are several more dings on my phone, but I ignore them. It feels foreign not to reply to Cameron. Out of everyone in my life even my ex-boyfriend, he is the only one whom I answered all his calls and texts, no matter what I was doing.
Knowing what I need to get me in a better mood, I reach for my mp3 player and cycle through my songs. I smile seeing one of my favorites and select it. The drumbeat followed by the bass riff of 'Dance, Dance' by Fall Out Boy fills my room from the wireless speakers. I can't help bopping my head along to the infectious beat.
I dance naked around my room to several songs, when I notice something move out the corner of my eye. I scream seeing someone crawl through my window. The person falls with a heavy thud. I grab the bat by the side of my bed and prepare to swing until I recognize the person in front of me.
There's a panicked look on Cameron's face as he quickly stands, holding up his hands. "No, don't, Dari! It's me!"
