I wear my sweater even on a summer day, and I boil with more than heat when you ask me to take it off.

Oh, I forgot. You don’t ask. You demand.

“I wish you would take off that sweater. You are such a weirdo. If you took off that sweater, maybe you’d have friends. You’re an outlier, Kathryn. Why can’t you be normal?”

“No. I feel comfortable and safe in it. Why would you want to take that away from me?”

I will not stand and let my daughter become estranged from other kids, estranged from society. I will not let her become a social outcast like I was when I was her age. I know how lonely I was, and she must feel the same way. I must do everything I can to protect her. Even if it makes her resent me. But how should I know, when she never tells me anything.

I know my mother is scared, but she has to know that no classmate has said the mean words she says to me. I’m not going to tell her that I wander the playground at recess alone with a book in my hand, that I read it instead of playing with the other kids. My grades are good, and that’s all that matters, right.

“I’m worried about my Kathryn. She’s so weird and she won’t make friends.”

“Oh, your Kathryn is a delight in class. She proved me wrong on a math problem. However, she does wear the same sweater to class every day. And she refuses to submit her standardized tests until the last minute. She actually read a book instead of submitting it. However, she is loved by all her classmates.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Kathryn, take off your sweater.”

“No!”

This child. Just like me, stubborn, intense, unathletic, and driven. But she does it all with an extreme level of perfectionism. I look at her, and I know she will never take no for an answer. The word no does not make her back down and turn away. It is merely an obstacle to slow her down. She will break it down. Always. Grind it until it is out of existence.

“You’re such a weirdo. Look at your sister. Be like her.”

“I don’t care.”

But I do. And I know I’m right.