girls who perform.

Chapter 1

There is a person I carry between my palms.

I open the neat envelope and pull out the card inside. A noticeable new one, the surface is still shining, with a photo in the corner. The girl on that picture is a goddess.

I don't even recognize her at first. Fresh, glowing skin, a new haircut with a blowout. The earrings strike the viewer the most, they're from Tiffany's. Not worth mentioning she spent 6 months of paychecks on them.

Bright concealer covering the dark circles, the eyes starring confidently into the camera of the photo booth.

The lady behind the counter looks at me skeptically. When I registered that I wanted to change my name, she was the one i talked to.

 She obviously knew me, probably a friend of the school librarian who always glances at the poetry i get. I know that I make up most of the gossip at those Sunday afternoon lunches of the old folks of Jacksonville. Of the young ones probably too.

 She seems like the type of elderly woman complaining about everything young girls do these days. Jacksonville is overrun with them. White curls, small glasses, a stern look. A scratchy looking grey cardigan. A washed-out blouse. Dolores Umbridge.

"I hope it meets your expectations", she says skeptically, raising an eyebrow. She makes it sound as if was incredibly exhausted from crafting that little ID herself.

I put on a big smile, wanting to seem as satisfied as possible.

"It sure does", I say.

I turn around abruptly and walk out of the room, shoulders back, head up high. I can feel the state clerk's judging gaze in my back. Guess I will be today's topic at her dinner table once again.

Outside the town hall, I feel my heart pumping up to my throat like I race down a rollercoaster. I let out a little scream. A few people on the sidewalk raise their heads, dazzled and confused.

I rip apart the envelope and throw the paper into a nearby trash can. I read the ID card, over and over again, wanting to memorize the freshly typed name.

Evianna Celeste Smithson

Evianna Celeste Smithson

Evianna Celeste Smithson

I can't believe I actually did it. This feels like the golden ticket to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Except for that the factory is the new life i will claim.

Catching my breath, I notice a little tear rolling down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away and look around to see if anybody noticed.

This moment is like the starting gunshot at the beginning of the race. Shit got real now.

I start my way back home, not even paying attention to the shabby plain buildings on the side of the road. Soon enough, I'll get out of this hole that is Wisconsin.

As I tear off my old Converse chucks, I'm surprised to hear my parent's voices coming from the living room. The house usually stays empty until dinner time, and it isn't even past five yet.

 Entering the living room, my Mom greets me with the usual welcoming, but kind of irritated smile she has greeted me with for the last couple of years. Kind of as if she tries to be polite about something she hasn't quite understood yet.

"Hey Birdy", she greets me as she glimpses at my purse, as discretely as possible.

"Great", I answer euphorically. "Everything worked out just fine". I hold up my ID.