Chapter 7: In the Shadow of Boldness

I sit on the edge of my bed, the present moment fading as memories of yesterday—the first day of high school—flood my mind. The alarm had gone off, its sharp sound slicing through my restless dreams...

Flashback:

The alarm pierces through my dreams, dragging me from a restless sleep. I hit the snooze button; my mind was already tangled in a web of anxiety about the first day of high school. The thought of being seen as the younger sister of someone like Elaina—the exchange student who seems incapable of covering herself—makes my stomach churn. I can’t shake the image of being forever associated with her audacious confidence, which feels terrifyingly impossible to live up to.

It’s here. The day I’ve been dreading has arrived, and it feels like I’m being shoved into a spotlight I never asked for. The weight of everyone’s eyes feels palpable, judging me as the sibling of someone who seems so effortlessly comfortable in her skin.

I drag myself out of bed, trying to push through the fear and uncertainty. If I can just make it through this morning, maybe things will settle down. But as I approach the bathroom door, I hear the unmistakable sound of running water. Of course, Elaina managed to get up before me, and now I’m left standing outside, already feeling like an afterthought in my own home.

I take a deep breath and push the door open just enough to peek inside. The steam escapes from the bathroom, and there’s Elaina, naked in the shower, her body glistening under the water. My face flushes red instantly. She stands there as if being completely exposed is the most natural thing in the world.

I should turn around, but my feet feel glued to the floor. Her confidence, and her complete lack of self-consciousness, only magnify my insecurities. I can’t help but feel like a shadow beside her radiant self-assurance.

“Morning, Sophia,” she calls out casually, her voice warm but completely unfazed by her state of undress.

“Uh, morning,” I manage to stammer, my throat tight with embarrassment. I start to back away, but her casual confidence feels almost mocking. Mom’s words about body confidence and being like her or Maddie echo in my head. But here I am, feeling utterly inadequate, wrapped in my anxiety.

“Want to join me?” Elaina asks with a playful lilt in her voice. “There’s plenty of room.”

The offer is absurd. I can’t even imagine being so exposed. “No, I’ll ... I’ll wait,” I say quickly, retreating as fast as I can. I can’t even begin to deal with sharing such a personal space.

I lean against the hallway wall, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. Elaina’s boldness feels like a spotlight on my insecurities. I’m supposed to be confident like she and Maddie always said, but right now, I feel anything but. I’m wrapped in a simple nightgown, trying to hide behind its fabric while Elaina is out there, practically daring everyone to look.

When Elaina finally steps out of the bathroom, she’s holding a towel that barely dries off the water dripping from her skin. She walks down the hallway with an ease that only makes me more aware of my discomfort. The contrast between her confidence and my anxiety feels like a chasm I can’t cross.

I scramble into the bathroom, locking the door behind me as if it might shield me from the overwhelming sense of inadequacy. I glance at my reflection in the mirror. My gown feels like a fortress, but it only makes me feel more exposed and vulnerable.

Mom’s advice about confidence rings hollow now. “Be confident in yourself.” How can I be confident when I’m overshadowed by someone who seems so effortlessly at ease? Knowing that my sister around the world is now as confident in her body as Elaina is mortifying, I wish I could channel even a fraction of their boldness, but all I feel is a gnawing self-doubt.

As I get dressed in the closed bathroom, my patterned dress feels like a cage, wrapping me in its fabric but doing little to hide my anxiety. The bus stop, the kids who will undoubtedly notice Elaina’s lack of modesty and see me fully dressed, the stares, and whispers—it all feels like a mounting wave ready to crash over me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to be judged, not just for who I am, but for being linked to someone so unapologetically different. What if some of them want me to be like her or attempt to force me into the mold Mom suggested? The thought is mortifying to the highest degree.

Elaina is waiting for me when I finally emerge. She’s dressed in an outfit she was born in—just her skin—exuding a confidence I can only envy. Her presence makes my nervousness feel even more acute.

“Ready?” she asks, her smile radiating self-assurance.

I nod my voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, I’m ready,” glancing at the wall mirror and seeing myself in that purple dress, white socks, and plum shoes, while she glows in her natural skin.

We head outside, the crisp morning air doing nothing to ease my nerves. As we walk toward the bus stop, I can already feel the eyes on us and see several of them whispering my heart races, my thoughts a whirlwind of fear and self-doubt.

What will they think of us? I wonder, feeling like I’m being dragged into a situation I can’t control. With Elaina by my side, it feels like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to face a day filled with judgment and scrutiny.

The bus stop comes into view, and I brace myself for the inevitable. Elaina walks confidently behind me, and I can’t escape the feeling that I’m the shadow of someone who stands in the spotlight. The day stretches ahead, and I’m filled with dread, wondering how I’ll ever manage to fit in with everything already feeling so out of place.

Students from West Boulder High School, mostly freshmen like me, are clustered in small groups, exchanging nervous laughter and whispered conversations as they all begin looking at us, mostly Elaina in just her natural skin. I can already feel the weight of the day pressing down on me as I walk toward the stop first. My anxiety about the attention Elaina will draw is palpable.

As I approach, I see a group of familiar faces from middle school. They glance at me briefly, then turn their attention elsewhere, clearly unsure how to engage with me now that Elaina is in the mix. Their awkward reactions make me feel even more like an outsider, accentuating my sense of dread.

A cluster of freshman girls stands together, gossiping and whispering with exaggerated gestures. I catch snippets of their conversation—”Who does she think she is?” “Did she not get the memo about blending in?” Their comments are barely veiled criticisms about Elaina, and I feel my face flush with embarrassment to hear that. Each whispered remark feels like it’s aimed directly at me, too, being I am living with her.

And then she arrived a few moments after me.

Elaina approaches with her usual bold stride, unaffected by the attention she draws. Just in her natural glow—a way that is both eye-catching and daring—she stands out not only because she’s an exchange student that I’m sure none of them know, but also because of the sheer confidence she exudes. As she walks toward some older girls at the stop, the boys’ eyes shift toward her. Some stare openly, while others glance away, embarrassed but intrigued. Their reactions only make me feel more self-conscious, thinking of what Mom said last night as if every pair of eyes is not just on her, but on us both, even if I am just as dressed as everyone else there besides Elaina.

The new freshman girls I recognized from middle school, less subtle than the boys, begin to make snide comments about Elaina. “Did she not get the memo about blending in?” One of them sneers until she sees me and backs away with the others, leaving me standing there. “Look at her nakedness!” a boy blurts. “It’s like she’s trying to make a statement.” That makes me mad and uncomfortable and now glad that I was fully clothed, feeling so embarrassed for her.

The comments grow louder, and my face burns with shame as if it was me, not Elaina, out there like that. The teasing directed at Elaina feels personal as if I’m under scrutiny simply by association. I’m acutely aware of my discomfort, feeling as if I’m standing naked in front of everyone, exposed to their judgment.

In my mind, the contrast between Elaina and me is stark: she’s a shield of confidence, while I’m completely vulnerable. My anxiety feels like a living thing, wrapping around me, making me wish I could disappear.