Mom’s face pinches. “We don’t think it’s enough.”
I roll my eyes. “What else do you want to do? Hire a nanny for me?”
The way they both flinch makes me want to kick myself. “Wait. Seriously?” I shriek.
“Not a nanny,” Mom says, like the idea is silly. “A guardian.”
I want to vomit, but my insides have been carved out.
“Like I’m some child?” I’m not even sure how I’ve formed the words without breath and lungs.
Margaret’s arms tighten around me. “I’ve got you,” she whispers.
“Like someone who needs a little extra help managing their affairs,” my dad says gently. “And, Hats, honey, please hear me out: someone to help you make important decisions.”
My spine stiffens. “Help me?” I ask sharply. “Or make them for me?”
Mom and Dad look at each other, and I feel Margaret stiffen beside me.
Panic, bright and acrid, rips through me.
“No!” I leap from the rocker, leaving Margaret to suffer whiplash. “I. Don’t. Need. A. Guardian!”
I know I’m not like the rest of my family. I know that some of the other kids I met in ABT lived in group homes because they needed the support. That’s not me.
“I can live on my own. You know that. I can cook and clean and shop—” Even if I really don’t enjoy those things and, honestly, my cooking is more like following microwave or ready-bake instructions. ”I can drive, and even if I hate it, I can be a college student. No one who can do those things needs a guardian?—”
Mom raises both her hands like a crossing guard. “A guardian is just one of the options,” she says, sounding exasperated. “Durable power of attorney is another. Supported decision making. Conservatorship is?—”
“Like Britney Spears? Are you kidding me?!” I’m so angry and terrified, I can’t even feel the floor beneath my feet anymore. I might be levitating.
Mom shuts her eyes, her jaw tight.
“Hattie…” Margaret’s gentle voice is right behind me. I can just barely hear it over my panting breaths. “Guardianship and Conservatorship require a judge and a court hearing. And the judge would have to hear your wishes first. You’d have a voice in this.”
I reel on her, betrayal bending me nearly in two. “You knew they wanted to do this to me?”
The corners of Margaret’s eyes turn down like sad crescent moons. “I would be the one, if that makes it better. The one looking out for you.”
How can she not see that it makes it so, so much worse?
She must read this in my face because she tries to reach for me, and I stumble back. “No. I don’t need a guardian. I don’t want to live in a group home.” I look back and forth between Maragret and my parents. “I can take care of myself.”
“Honey,” my dad says, sadly. “You need someone looking after you. Someone who can help protect your interests. Your finances. Your property. Your health. And you need someone to make sure no one takes advantage of you. People you think are your friends. Even this boy?—”
“What?! Is that what this is about? You think Beck would hurt me?” I shriek in outrage. I stick out my index finger and sweep it across the room, feeling a little guilty for including Merrick in the gesture since he hasn’t really done anything wrong—that I know of. “Y’all are the ones hurting me and trying to control me.”
“We aren’t trying to control you,” Mom says. “We’re trying to protect you while still giving you a measure of independence.”
A measure of independence.
“Harriet isn't… independent.”
If Beck heard them now, would he believe them? If a judge ruled that I needed a guardian, would he still want to know me?
Would he ever kiss me again?
“I-I am independent.” My voice is both shaky and throaty. Is this what a rabbit feels like? Caught in a snare? Fighting for its life?