The Bright Side

Seven

- Flashback, 7th grade, 6 years ago -

A few days ago my mom bought me a gorgeous dress.  It ends a little below my mid-thigh.  It's a soft white with small tiny light rose colored flowers spread throughout the piece of fabric.  I love it.  I paired it with a necklace that has a charm of a small silver heart on it.

She styled my long black hair in two braids. A few pieces hang out in the front.

Black high top converse are on my feet. Of course. I really need to branch out with my choice of footwear.

My mom said I looked beautiful this morning.

My dad said that I look stupid before I walked out the door.  Mom didn't hear.  I pretended like I didn't either.

I won't let him get into my head today.

The walk to school is calming, the smell of my neighbors flowers linger through the air.  Roses.  I love the scent roses exert.  Stopping by the rose bush I look around me, no one in sight.  I pick a rose.  Hopefully my neighbors won't notice.

Quickly I open up my backpack and throw the flower in there.  I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it, but it's pretty so maybe I'll put it on my nightstand or be nice and give it to Camila.  I know that she also loves flowers.  Except she is more of a sunflower type of girl. Maybe I'll scavenge for the pretty weeds in the grass later and give them to her.

The sound of my sneakers padding against the concrete distracts me, I count each of my steps and examine the dirty laces.  I should probably clean those later.

By the time I know it, I've arrived to school.

Some kids walk, some go by bus, and others get dropped off.  Except in the end we all head to the same place: through the rusted front doors.

A smile rests on my face as I enter into the building.  Everyone is heading to their friend groups to talk before class starts in ten minutes.

I stand there with no one to go talk to.  Unsure of what to do I quickly head to my locker and put my books away while humming to the tune of one of the Spanish songs my mom was playing this morning.  I'm not sure of the name, but it's been stuck in my head.

A high voice enters my ears as I'm placing one of my notebooks away.

"Where'd you get your dress?  Goodwill?" The girl begins to laugh as if she just made the funniest joke in the world.

What's so funny about shopping at goodwill?  I don't understand whats so hilarious.  I got some nice shorts there last week.

Turning my head to look at her, I blow out an annoyed breath, "No, I actually got it at the mall.  If you want I'll tell you the store." I offer her a kind smile.  Maybe she just wants to know where it's from.

"No, it's ugly." She starts laughing again while looking me up and down.  Her eyes raking my entire body in a very judgmental matter.

Oh.

My smile fades, and I look back towards my locker.

"You're flat as fuck too. I could hang a picture on your ass and boobs. Your body may as well be a wall." She continues looking me up and down.

We are in seventh grade...does she really expect me to be looking like Kim Kardashian at twelve years old?

I don't even know her name, except I see her little group of friends close by watching, snickering amongst each other.

Their humor is pathetic.

The girl has tan skin with red dyed hair.  She is wearing a red shirt with white skinny ripped jeans and vans.  Messy eyeliner sits above her eyelashes.  Her mascara is clumpy as well.