Before the Ever Green (BTEG #1) ✔️

Chapter 16

It's Monday, and I am sitting across from no one. I am reading a cover-less book Mom gave me this morning. I'm not quiet sure what it's about, yet. But I am a fast reader, I so I'll find out soon enough. I am going on the picnic with Everett tonight, and for some odd reason I can't get that out of my mind. I want too, because we are just watching an eclipse, but I just can't.

I look up from my book, John and Sara are coming over. They have their lunches in their hands. I'm not sure why. It's just the two of them, the rest are watching. I put my book down, and turn in my seat, "Hello," I say

Sara smiles, "I'm not sure why they let trash like you come to this school," John helps her out by saying, "And she doesn't even know what a monster her mommy is." They are both laughing when they grab something out of their lunch bags. It's green, and flying right at me. John just puts it back in, and dumps the bag on top of my head. Sara grabs my water from the table, and pours it in her bag, before dumping it on me. She had flour, so I look light cake batter with lettuce in my hair. "See, John, I told you she was trash," she looks me down, before flipping her hair and walking away with John right behind her.

I'm not trash. I use both my hands to wipe the goop from my hair before heading to the bathroom. I prepared, and have my own clothes in my bag this time. I take off my dirty ones, and hop in the shower, attempting to rinse out all the goop that seems to be glued in. I get it all out, and grab a towel from the rack to dry off. I wonder if life was this hard for Mom.

I hurry to change into a floral dress, and I rinse off my sandals before slipping them on, too. I look at myself in the mirror. I am not beautiful. I am skinny. I am not elegant. I am not a wealthy person. I am Addilyn Ember. I will never be like Sara Jane.

I walk out of the bathroom, standing tall as I can. They all just laugh. Everett still isn't here, so I grab my book off the table, and head out the door to my next class. Mrs. McGee doesn't mind when I am early to Literature. I am glad. She is my favorite teacher, because she's always telling us to be ourselves, and she's never asked me to be more like Sara Jane. "Good afternoon, Addilyn," she says when I walk in the door, "You're a lot earlier than usual."

"Just having a bad day, I hope it's okay."

"It's quite all right, Addilyn. You can start on the assignment. Write something that makes you happy, and make it into a story worth telling."

I nod. What is something that makes me happy? Books, nature, not being in between 4 walls, my one friend, anywhere Sara Jane isn't. But, are any of those worth writing? "Do you have any examples?" I ask

"Sorry, I'm afraid not. But, you're a great writer, you'll think of something," I want to tell her I won't but instead I put my chin on the table, and look at the board. Something that makes me happy...

I pull out a small notebook I use for Literature class. I don't take a lot of notes in this class, so it's only about 9'' by 6'' I have to jot down all my thoughts, before I loose them. Knowing Mrs. McGee, this will probably be a huge assignment. So, I write:

Assignment: Something that makes you happy.

Things that make me happy: Books, nature, not being in between 4 walls, my mom, friend(s), food, the meadow, the swing in the forest, anywhere Sara Jane isn't, pictures of my Dad,

I go on for a while, listing things I like...things that make me happy, but I can't think of a lot. I can barely think of 15. I guess not a lot of things make me happy, or all the things that would make me happy I haven't experienced, yet. Maybe I never will.

I can hear footsteps, and I realize lunch must be over, so class is starting. Everyone takes their seat, and Mrs. McGee stands up to speak, "Okay class, today I have an assignment that is due in 1 week. I want you to pull everything out of your mind, and write something that makes you happy. I don't care if it's a poem, a short story, an essay, any type of literature is okay. You need to include one drawing and a quote. It can be something you've said, something one of your classmates has said, or something from a book you read. One week, you may begin."

I can hear chatter through-out the room, of people talking to their friends. I of course have no one to talk to. No one is sitting next to me, so I can't listen to conversations of others, so I just sit there, doodling on the page of things I like.