“Never, ever, think of yourself as a disappointment to me, ever again. Ever. You’ve never been a disappointment to me for a single second. And if I ever made you feel like that—” she paused and looked me straight in the eye, tears welling up in hers. “If I ever made you feel f—”—she shook her head—“I can’t even say that word, because you’re too beautiful, Lori. You know the day you were born, you had this mop of bright-red curly hair, and the nurse who delivered you was so shocked she called all the other nurses because she said she’d never seen such a beautiful baby before. You were beautiful from day one, and you have grown more and more beautiful since then. And if I ever made you feel like you weren’t, aren’t, absolutely beautiful and perfect just the way you are, then I am so very, very sorry.”

And then she did something that she hadn’t done in ages: she reached across and pulled me into a hug. My heart felt like it was going to explode and in that moment, I realized that this was the start of us rebuilding our relationship. The relationship had been broken and damaged, and had once lain like leaves discarded in the soil, but now it was time to give it water, a little bit of sunlight, and see if we could start regrowing. So much damage had been done, and five minutes wasn’t going to erase that, but this was a start.

Things I Like about Myself by Lori Palmer

I’m a good sister.

I’m a real artist (despite what Blackwell says!).

I, Lori Palmer, am officially good with parents! I’m getting better with parents.

I have a voice. There is power in my art.

I am brave!

I am a great kisser!

I’m a good friend (even if I don’t really want to be just a friend).

My voice can start a movement!

My body is a work of art!

I have great boobs. I mean . . . AHMAZING!

I am hot!

I stand up for myself.

52

I went over to Jake’s house that afternoon. My heart was pulling itself in two different directions, like a rubber band that had been stretched to its breaking point. I was waiting for it to snap. I was excited to have been accepted into the most prestigious art school in the world, but I was also totally, undeniably, unequivocally in love with Jake Jones-Evans, and was feeling the loss of him, although he wasn’t even gone yet. He was my first kiss, my first love, the first guy who’d seen past all my insecurities and imperfections—who’d seen me as no one had ever seen me before.

“Are you okay?” he asked as we sat on his veranda looking at the sea below.

I shook my head.

“What’s wrong?”