My dad really wants the best for me. He thinks he can make up for my mom's death by buying me things, or he can try to replace her with a nanny (who I don't need anymore). Scratch that, he doesn't think that. That's what he wants to think. And he wants me to think so too.

But he never has time for me. So, on the rare occasion he can spare a few minutes, I put on a fake smile. I pretend I want to think my mom can be replaced, that Ms. Anne is wonderful, and a new top will help me cope.

He thinks I'm depressed. Even though he's a sucker for the fake smiles, he isn't so clueless I'm not happy. He sent me to a therapy session once. But Ms. Anne saw the situation and took me out. She insists I'm fine.

One of her excuses is all the friends that I have. Yeah, they feel like great friends. And they always want to come over my house. When I was younger, we were still rich. But, mom was still alive, meaning dad was more connected to us. I didn't have a nanny, and mom kept dad's purchases in check. At that time, I had real friends. They wanted to play with me because I was Janette. Not because of the things I had.

Now, mom isn't here. And it's been like that since about fifth grade. When I was that age, people starting to notice the things I had... and they thought the things mattered.

So, the popular girls kind of took me. They weren't really "popular" yet, because it was still the last year of elementary school. Stereotypes start in middle school.

But when they-- we-- hit popularity, they made me like their queen bee. I don't know how, but I found myself as this really popular girl. Maybe the most popular. How could I just end it all? Answer: I can't.

And about dad buying me things. He usually just leaves it in the clothes bag from the store, places it on my bed, and Ms. Anne will usually write: "Love, Dad" on it, but she's fooling no one, because his handwriting is not that neat.

So, as you can see: it's really not my fault I am who I am, is it?

---

"Are you actually going to do the big race?" Chloe, one of my friends asks me. "I think so. You?" I grab my math homework from my locker and stuff it in my folder. She closes her neighboring locker, "No way. No how."

"Why?"

"Because of your not going to win, then don't embarrass yourself."

How did she know I wasn't going to win? I shut my locker. "Oh. Yeah. I was just trying to make it look like I cared. I so don't." I do.

But I won't enter. I guess.