A Can of Coke

The Beginning part 1

The sound of my Abuela's telenovela hummed gently in the background as I laid in my mother's childhood bedroom. It was rather comforting after the long day I've had.

Starting this summer, I was going to be living with my Abuela for what seemed like the rest of high school.

My parents thought I should have a change of scenery and a second chance (if you will) of being a normal teenager.

My mom was so happy growing up in the Outer Banks, so she figured I'd be too. I really wanted it to be true.

The bedroom walls were lilac and old photos of friends and family were pinned all over the walls and taped to the dresser mirror.

My mom really was beautiful growing up. She had long, curly hair that somehow looked perfect in every photo. Her eyes shimmered with a pure bliss you knew could only come from the joy of friendship. She just looked so radiant in all of those old pictures.

Why did I feel so different from her?

I had been laying in her room all day, not really sure what to do with myself.

I just stared at her photos and loathed myself for not being like her...like that. Beautiful. Popular. Happy.

My parents left early this morning to take the ferry back to the mainland. Saying goodbye was really hard, my mom and dad were truly my best friends. But this was for the best. I was tired of disappointing them, and I couldn't do that if I was here. At least I promised myself I wouldn't.

I finally sat up from the bed and stared at myself in the mirror. Every glance sending painful memories.

Although my pin-straight hair looked fine enough, it was the black eye and forehead slit I was focusing on.

School just ended a couple days ago and everyone had to get their last hurrah in before summer.

I glanced at my swollen, red cheek and remembered the slap I received from Brianna. The slice on my lip was from Branden shoving me into the lockers. The bruises around my eye were from Shailey smacking me with her purse. The cut on my forehead was from all the back packs Randy, Kayla, and Abby repeatedly whacked against me. There was more on my torso and legs, but I couldn't get myself to look. My face was ugly enough... a constant reminder of how weird, stupid, and unwanted I was.

Although the sun had gone down and I didn't know my surroundings that well, I decided to take a walk.

"Abuela?" I called, not wanting to cross the house and find her.

"Sí?"

"I'm going to go for a walk, is that alright?"

"Sí, sí, that's fine! Just bring your phone!" She called back, probably too focused on the TV's drama to worry.

I headed outside and let the cool, salty air bite my skin. I didn't grow up near the beach, so the air tasted new and calming.

It was different. And different was good.

The moonlight glisten over the ocean shore and made the sand sparkle like fairy dust. It was a wonder why my mom ever left. It was so beautiful here.

My dad was a geeky tourist who somehow won the heart of my intimidatingly beautiful mother in the small span of two-weeks. They have been inseparable ever since.

I think I take after my dad more. Although I got my mom's freckles and her rich, dark hair. I got my dad's pin-straight hair texture, weakness to UV rays, and lack of coordination. They were both confident, however, and I definitely wasn't that.