Educated by Tara Westover

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myself invincible. It was an elegant deception, a mental pirouette. The
toe was not broken because it was not breakable. Only an X-ray could
prove otherwise. Thus, the X-ray would break my toe.


My algebra final was swept up in this superstition. In my mind, it
acquired a kind of mystical power. I studied with the intensity of the
insane, believing that if I could best this exam, win that impossible
perfect score, even with my broken toe and without Charles to help me,
it would prove that I was above it all. Untouchable.


The morning of the exam I limped to the testing center and sat in the
drafty hall. The test was in front of me. The problems were compliant,
pliable; they yielded to my manipulations, forming into solutions, one
after the other. I handed in my answer sheet, then stood in the frigid
hallway, staring up at the screen that would display my score. When it
appeared, I blinked, and blinked again. One hundred. A perfect score.


I was filled with an exquisite numbness. I felt drunk with it and
wanted to shout at the world: Here’s the proof: nothing touches me.



BUCK’S PEAK LOOKED THE way it always did at Christmas—a snowy spire,
adorned with evergreens—and my eyes, increasingly accustomed to
brick and concrete, were nearly blinded by the scale and clarity of it.


Richard was in the forklift as I drove up the hill, moving a stack of
purlins for the shop Dad was building in Franklin, near town. Richard
was twenty-two, and one of the smartest people I knew, but he lacked a
high school diploma. As I passed him in the drive, it occurred to me
that he’d probably be driving that forklift for the rest of his life.


I’d been home for only a few minutes when Tyler called. “I’m just
checking in,” he said. “To see if Richard is studying for the ACT.”


“He’s gonna take it?”
“I don’t know,” Tyler said. “Maybe. Dad and I have been working on
him.”


“Dad?”
Tyler laughed. “Yeah, Dad. He wants Richard to go to college.”
I thought Tyler was joking until an hour later when we sat down to
dinner. We’d only just started eating when Dad, his mouth full of

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