“Good morning Mom! Good morning Dad!” My voice echoes as I yell down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“How are you this morning Katherine?” My mom asks me while I fill up on my favorite breakfast food, French toast, made specially for my first day of junior year.
“I'm a little bit nervous, you know how I feel about the first day of school.”
“You'll do great honey. I know that it can be a little bit scary sometimes, but you always manage.” My father nods his head as he continues to stuff his mouth full of French toast, because it happens to be his favorite too.
Beep beep! I hear a car horn, and it must be Claire coming to pick me up in her new Honda. I throw my backpack over my shoulder, and smooth out my brand new dress that I bought specifically for today. As I get ready to head out the door, my mom walks over to where I'm standing and gives me a great big bear hug. Dad finally puts his French toast down, and walks over to wish me good luck as well. They're honestly some of the most caring parents I have ever seen, and I have no idea how I got so lucky to end up being born to them. I step outside, and I can faintly hear my mother and father speaking, she tells him that she's going into the office early, and then I close the door behind me. Claire is parked right next to my mom's silver Audi, and I have to be careful getting into her car since its parked so closely.
“I absolutely love your dress! Jake is going to think you look totally hot!” Claire exclaims as soon as I step foot into her car. I hope she's right about Jake though, we hung out a couple of times this past summer, and I'm praying that he'll finally ask me out.
The car ride doesn't last long, because before I know it we're in Claire's a**igned parking spot ready to walk into the school. I have to mentally prepare myself to walk into school. What if Jake doesn't think I look hot? What if all of my teachers are completely psycho? My mind is rushing through a million terrible things, and I have to prepare myself for the worst. I try to remind myself of what my mom had reminded me of earlier today, which is that I always manage. I can do this.
Claire can always tell exactly what I'm thinking without me even saying a word. “What's the worst that can happen? Absolutely nothing, now let's go.” She tugs on my hand, and I have enough courage in those few seconds to start off the new school year. The first day of school has always been a stressful event, but Claire has always pushed me to keep going ever since Kindergarten. Hand in hand, we walk right into Madison High School, home of the Mountain Lions. As I walk inside, freshman flock the halls, pushing past us left and right. I don't even realize that I've practically stopped in the middle of the hallway.
“Are you alright Katherine? We have to head to biology, you know how I don't like being late.” Claire trails off, and tugs at my hand. I force my feet to move, and we hurry down the hall to first period biology with Mr. Smith. By the time we arrive, people are already sitting in seats, books placed carefully on the desk, and I silently wonder how I'll be able to carry this gigantic book around.
“Today we are going to be talking about dominant and recessive traits!” Mr. Smith sounds way too excited about genetics. “For example, an easy one to start, brown eyes are a dominant trait. This means that if your parents have brown eyes, you will too.” The teacher continues on, and I don't pay much attention. It's the first day of cla** anyways, which means that we'll go over all of this information later. Instead, I stare at the back of Jake's head while he listens to the lecture. His hair is the color of wheat, and all I care about is how beautiful we would look together. My brown locks, his blue eyes, my hazel eyes, perfection. Then it hits me. Why do I have hazel eyes? My parents definitely both have brown, and if what the teacher says is true, then how in the world could I ever have hazel eyes? It just doesn't make sense. I can't focus on anything else for the rest of cla**, because I'm too busy thinking up reasons why I could possibly have hazel eyes.
“It is possible though for a child to end up with a different color if grandparents on both side have that color. These are recessive traits.” I think that maybe that's what happened. I never paid much attention to what my grandparent's eye colors were. Cla** ends before I even know it.
“Maybe your mom cheated on your dad or you could have been switched with another baby in the hospital. OH! What if you're adopted?” Claire rattles off her ideas of why I was born with hazel eyes instead of brown. I try to ignore her, but the ideas get to me.
“I doubt it!” I try to laugh it off. Later that night, the ideas float back into my brain as I stare at the Christmas lights that line the ceiling of my room, brighter than my dark thoughts. Would my mom really cheat on my dad? They're so in love, always giving each other kisses, hugging, and going out to dinners. There is absolutely no way. Sleep washes over me at last, and I sleep restlessly, tossing and turning so much that my bed looks like a tornado tore through it the night before. The sun rises through my window, which means I wake up bright and early at seven in the morning on my first weekend off of school, and my parents are already downstairs eating breakfast.
I try to avoid them the best I can, because I don't think I can look them in the face until I figure out what is going on with my life. I decide to take a shower instead, they can't really bother me there. The water stings as it hits my body, but it helps to wake me up. Soon, I hear the familiar ringing of our front door, and realize that Claire must already be here, which is fairly early for her. I pick up my favorite towel to dry off, it's the fluffiest, and reminds me of the deep blue of the ocean. Hastily, I put on my favorite pair of shorts, and a tank top perfect for the hot August day. Downstairs, I hear Claire making polite small talk with my parents, always trying to impress everyone she interacts with, and I try to cut her short by taking the stairs two at a time. She likes my parents more than I do at this point. I still love them but I can't help but think of the possibilities that my mom could have cheated, or they never told me that I was adopted. Those thoughts hurt.
“Claire and I have some research that we need to do. We'll be in my room.” I say to both parents, trying not to look either of them in the eye. They look so innocent just sitting there eating breakfast, and sipping on coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar. Could they really have done anything wrong? Maybe they really are innocent, I could at least trust them. I seriously hope that I just got switched at the hospital or something innocent enough like that. Anything would be better than finding out my mom cheated on my dad, or that they never told me I was adopted.
“A research project this early into the school year? They must really be working you guys this year, huh?” Mom's eyes are quizzical, but she doesn't ask any further questions. Of course she believes me, I've never had reason to lie to her before, and technically I'm not lying, we are doing research. This research just isn't for school though.
We run up the stairs to my bedroom on the second floor of the house that I've lived in my whole entire life, and I can't help but think about how lucky I am. I have a nice house, nice parents, everything that I need, and so much more. My thankfulness turns into guilt, how could I possibly accuse my mom of cheating or accuse them of adopting me and not telling me? These people have always came to my bed when I felt sick, comforted me when I cry, make me my favorite meals whenever I feel down, and so many other things.
“Maybe we should just leave this alone. You heard what Mr. Smith said, there is a possibility for me to have different colored eyes if my grandparents do.” I try to convince Claire, but I'm trying more to convince myself that I have absolutely nothing to worry about.
“Come on Katherine! You know you're curious, and what harm could it really do? Maybe you have grandparents on both sides with hazel eyes, and then this could all just be laid to rest. Do you really want to have that sneaking suspicion in the back of your mind for the rest of your life?” She's fairly convincing, always has been, and I agree to do a little bit of research with her. I really am curious.
“Fine. If we can't find anything out today though, then we're done searching, deal?”
“Deal.”
“So, I guess the first question is, how common is it that babies get switched at the hospital?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Claire is already furiously typing away on her laptop.
“It says right here that about 30,000 babies get switched every year. That's a whole lot of babies.” I get excited thinking that this could all just be an accident, no deceit, all just a misunderstanding. I could have been switched at birth, but the scary thought lingers in my mind, these two people should have a different child, and I should be living with another family. How messed up with that be? Would I have to go live with another family? Would someone else's child come live here? I try not to think about it.
“Okay, let's just keep that idea in the back of our minds and keep searching.”
“Does your mom have any male friends? Specifically ones with hazel eyes? Could be someone in her office.” My brain flashes back to the first day of school, and I can hear my mom saying that she's going to head into the office early. I can't stop thinking of the possibility that she cheated on dad. She goes to the office early sometimes, and sometimes she stays late. What if she isn't actually working on work? What if she's still cheating on dad, and I'm really someone else's child? I start to feel a little dizzy.
“Hey, maybe we should just head up to your attic, and we can look through some photo albums. MayBe we can even find out if your grandparents had hazel eyes, and then you can stop worrying about it forever.”
“Yes, we should definitely do that! First, I want to make sure that my parents have already gone on their daily walk together. I don't want them to be asking any questions.” I walk down our stairs once again, they're lined with family portraits throughout the years, just my parents and I. I'm an only child, and I've always liked it that way. Some people think that being an only child would be lonely, but my parents always made sure I was happy and had things to keep my occupied. Sure enough, when I took a peek downstairs, they had already left for their routine Saturday morning walk. Even though they were getting a bit older, they always like to try to stay in shape.
“Why aren't there any baby photos of you on the wall here? Don't you think that's a little bit weird? In my house, there are baby photos of my brothers and I everywhere. It's like my parents can't get enough baby photos to put up for everyone to see.”
“They all got lost in a fire when I was little, or at least that's what my parents tell me. Our attic caught on fire when I was little and had to be rebuilt. We no longer have any photos of me before the age of three.” Claire nods her head as I speak, her curly blonde locks bounce as she nods, and we head up the stairs to the attic.
I head straight for the corner of the attic furthest away from the door, which is where we keep all of our old photo albums. There are so many of them, and I think my parents may have gotten a little camera happy when I was younger. There are albums upon albums of my first days of school, my last days of school, choir concerts, sports photos, and everything else imaginable. Soon, Claire and I are opening up different boxes, taking out photo albums and flipping through them.
“I think I found some photos of your grandparents.” Claire looks at me, and hands the photo album over to me.
“Yeah, these are my mom's parents, and we really can't even tell what color their eyes are. This picture is taken from so far back that it's practically impossible to tell. We should probably just head downstairs. I've looked through these dozens of times, and I doubt I'm going to find some new revelation.”
“Fine. We should ask Jake to come hang out with us at the mall then, and ask him to bring his super cute friend, Cameron!” Claire gets up and dusts off her jeans. She turns to walk towards the door, and I get up to follow her when I see a box that I've never really noticed before. The box is hidden behind a few other boxes filled with old Christmas ornaments and other holiday items.
“Hey! Wait up! There's another box here that I haven't seen before, and I think we should probably take a look.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Claire comes rushing back like a tidal wave. She's more interested in finding out about my past than I am, and she hurries to open the box. I can tell there isn't much in it by the way she's holding it, and I peek over to see two photo albums lying in it. I haven't seen these before, and I grab them carefully out of the box. Claire is completely engrossed in what I'm doing, and I can feel her breathing on my neck from behind me. I open the album slowly, and the first picture is of two adults with dark brown hair. I flip the pages and there are more photos of the couple. Then, there are photos of myself as a baby with them, and then some when I'm a little bit older, a toddler, with the couple.
“I thought that all of your baby photos got burned in a fire?”
“That's what I thought too. I've never seen any of these pictures before.”
“Who are those people in the pictures with you?”
“I have absolutely no idea who they are. I don't think I've ever really met them, except obviously when I was a baby.” Claire and I are looking at each other now, both equally confused. I decide to close the photo album, because I didn't feel like I was making any progress, and it was only making me way more confused with my life. As I go to set the album back in the box, a piece of paper slips out, and Claire picks it up. She studies it for a few seconds, reading it carefully. Silently she hands me the paper for me to look over, and I realize what it is. They're adoption papers.
“I'm adopted.” I can't think of anything else to say, and a lump is building in the back of my throat, threatening to choke me.
“I guess you are.”
“Why couldn't they have told me?” I practically scream at Claire. I never raise my voice at Claire, and I feel bad for doing so, but she knows it's not directed toward her. Tears start to stream down my cheeks, ruining my perfectly made up face, and I can't seem to make them stop. Claire rubs my back as I continue to cry, the word “why” repeating in my head.
“Why couldn't they have just told me?” I repeat over and over wondering why my wonderful parents couldn't have just been honest with me. Soon, I can hear the front door creak open, and I know that my parents are home, because the house is filled with lively chatter. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, not wanting anyone to know that I had been crying. I decided that I wanted to confront them.
“Okay, well if you're going to talk to them, I think I'm going to just head out your back door if that's alright.” Claire looks at me and pats me on the shoulder, and I can tell that she really does care about me. We head downstairs together, hand in hand, and before she slips out the back door she gives my hand a little squeeze.
“What's this?” I demand while holding the adoption papers in my hand like a lifesaver that's going to help me if I feel like I'm drowning. My parents take a second to realize what it is, and when they do they give each other that look. The look that all parents get every once in a while, the look that says they have absolutely no idea what to do now.
“I'm so sorry we didn't tell you sooner.” My mom is the first one to speak, and I don't know how forgiving I'm feeling today.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“We didn't want you to be confused, and we thought that maybe it would be a better idea to tell you once you got a little bit older, after college maybe.”
“I'm sixteen years old. I think you could have told me a little bit earlier. Who are my real parents then? There are pictures of who I a**ume are my parents upstairs.”
“They died in a car accident when you were about two and a half years old. They dropped you off at your babysitter's place, and they never had the chance to come back.” My father finally responds trying to diffuse the situation.
“You still could have told me. You've had every opportunity to, but instead you both lied. How am I ever supposed to trust you again?”