I had had a lot of trouble fitting in this year at school-taunted by mom nearly every day, my facade of the good girl was falling apart. One day, as i raced to my locker 15 minutes late for school after another fight with mom, Mrs. Lewis spotted me slamming my locker violently. "I don't know what your problem is today, Miss, but you better suck it up" she said, and i hung my head in shame. The walls were coming down. I couldn't hold myself together anymore. Tired of hearing what a "worthless piece of nothing" I was, I stood at my locker, sobbing, thinking to myself-it's true. I don't amount to anything.
But back to the story. Tonight was my night. I was going to enjoy the dance and "be confident." (ha, yeah right).
As i tore through my closet, I settled on a white t-shirt with GAP printed across it. I was going for the casual, lived-in look. I didn't want to try too hard. I paired it with my favorite pair of gap shorts, and got to work fixing my feathered bangs. Soon, mom walked into the bathroom. I just knew it. She was going to say something profound. Something sweet about the dance. After all, she of anyone knew how insecure i was about my braces and zitty face. She had to remember how hard it was to fit in in middle school. Instead, she was in one of her moods. "You're going to the dance wearing THAT?" she snarled. I protested, thinking to myself, no. no. NO. This isn't how it's supposed to go at all. You're the one that's supposed to tell me I'm pretty. even if I'm not. I stuttered out, "yeah..this shirt is new and i wanted to wear it."
"That's ridiculous, Emily. You have all these good clothes in your closet that i've worked my fingers to the bone to buy for you and that's what you're going to wear? You're nuts."
Wanting to avoid a fight, I got to work on my bangs. I liked them to have that feathered look, where they curled perfectly in a hair sprayed "C" across my forehead.
The insults continued, and got harsher with ever word.
"Mooom, I want a boyfirend" she taunted me. "Well guess what? You'll never get a boyfriend looking like that, you ugly piece of shit."
Astonished, i fought back. I was not going to let her ruin my perfect night.
"leave me alone you witch! Why are you talking to me like this?"
CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! She was slapping me across the face. Hard.
"You need your mouth washed out with soap you damn bitch" she said as she fled the room.
I peered into the mirror to see a dark red handprint across my cheek.
I was devastated. How could i show up now? My night was ruined.
I sobbed, dark, angry tears. Alone, my face distorted. The smile that was there five minutes ago was now an ugly quivering lip. My nose was starting to get red. Shit. I hated when that happened. People could always tell the twins apart by emily's redness around her nose.
Suck it up, i told myself. But i couldn't. I was so sensitive, and her words cut me like a knife.
Why couldn't i be more like Lindsay? Tough, resilient, and confident. Instead, I let her words affect me for dasys, carrying them around in my chest. They were there when i woke up and looked in the mirror at my frizzy hair. I wish God never put breath in you. They were there when i sat at the lunch table with my so called friends, unable to eat more than my dunkaroos. die today, die today, i hope you die TODAY. They were there when i got home from school and stuffed my face with farm rich cheese sticks. I outta knock you from here down to the end of the road. And they were going with me to the dance tonight. You'll never get a boyfriend.
To Be Continued...
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