Different

New Year Same Shit

Waking up on a beautiful January day would cheer up anyone, filling them with bright, hopeful thoughts and cheery wakefulness, said no one ever.

It was probably around 6 and I knew that my mother would soon be traipsing up the stairs to wake me up with various slaps and pinches, and yet I, Sarai Williams, stubbornly pulled my covers tight and scooched closer to the wall. The wonderful warmth that can only be produced after sleeping an entire night enveloped me in an almost drunken happiness.

It was worth it. That stubbornness. For the blissful extra 10 minutes, or at least that's what I tell myself. Suddenly I heard the telltale creaking that signified my imminent venture into the day.

My mother flicked on the lights and I was completely blind.

"It's time to get up", she said, poking me. I sighed. Turning from the wall, I propped myself up on one elbow and rubbed my eyes. Dually satisfied with my state of alertness, mum made her way back down the stairs leaving me blind, cold, and unhappy.

Good morning!

Before getting out of bed I checked my phone and nearly cried when I saw the time. No extra sleep for me. After sitting up, I attempted to run my hands through the thick, curly mess I called hair, and made my way to the dresser.

The girl in the mirror stared back at me blankly. Today was a bad day. My eyes drifted over my body.

I had what everyone told me that everyone wanted. I had light brown skin with a kind of yellow undertone, my waist was small and my hips and breasts were large and proportional to each other. I was very short at 5"1  with shoulder length hair. Not that you could tell when it wasn't straightened.

My stomach wasn't completely flat but it wasn't very round either and a large bum made buying bottoms a chore. All in all I suppose I was petite and curvy in figure.

My face was something that I battled to appreciate. I had a fairly straight nose, though it had a bump predispositioned for glasses, even though I was the only one in my family without them. My lips were thick, and I was blessed with straight teeth. Thank the gene pool.

My eyebrows were naturally shapely but not perfect, and they rested above my favorite feature. My eyes were brown and almond shaped with medium lashes, laugh lines extended outward from them and when I smiled they pinched tightly at the ends.

Right now though they were filled with judgement as I stared back at myself. Today's a sweatshirt day. Definitely. Padding over to my closet I grabbed the XXL Washington sweatshirt I had bought on a school trip and threw on a pair of skinny jeans. There was a small tear in the stitching at the wrist, but I didn't care. I had just began tying my most comfortable pair of sneakers when my mum yelled up the stairs, "IT'S ALMOST 6:30". I didn't even bother replying, after 3 years of the same phrase it never failed to irk me.

After slipping my laptop into its case and then into my backpack, I slung it over my shoulder, and began my descent into the living room. That is, until I realized my hair was still a rats nest. 5 minutes of frustration and holding back tears later I had a poof exploding from the back of my head under a hood that basically made me look like I had a giant tumor.

Sighing I made it down the creaky stairs and breezed past my mother, uttering a quick good morning, and walking to the kitchen for my usual apple breakfast. I could feel her eyes on the back of me, assessing my outfit, critiquing me. I held up my head, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding when I was out of her sight. Then, upon retrieval of the apple and the consumption of a glass of water I returned to the living room and sat, crunching, to watch the morning news.

"Don't you have a math test today?", asked my mum distantly

Here we go. It's not like I really care anyways, I failed into Standard Math for a reason.

"Yes"

She turned towards me, suddenly alert.

"Did you study?"

No. Why would I even bother, I haven't even done the homework due today.

"Yes"

"I expect an A"

I've got a 70/30 chance.

"I know"

"All right, as long as you know"

I hate how much pressure you put on me to be perfect, but at this point I'm too old to truly fear you.

"By the way, I'm picking you up from Pelham today."

I like taking the train because riding in the car with you is stressful, on the train I can be myself.

"Ok"

The next 15 minutes were quiet, I finished my apple and ate another one. At 6:45 mum got up.

"Alright, I'm ready," she called, tying her shoes" Let's go"

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed the jacket I would soon be struggling to put on as the 10 degrees outside chilled me to the bone. It was the beginning of January and the weather was abysmal. Together we trekked across the snow covered sidewalk to the car, which, thankfully, was already warmed up with clean window shields. Shivering slightly, I crawled into the front seat and prepared to doze for the rest of the 15 minute ride to Pelham's Metro North Station.

I slowly rose from my slumber as we pulled into to the train stations parking lot. Nobody was in the warm room, so it wouldn't be "safe". The music playing was gospel, if only she knew how much of a hip thrusting heathen I was. 40 tedious minutes later I'm walking down the stairs into my schools main cafeteria. The yellow tones and round tables scream inviting, and yet the students that would soon be sat there are anything but. I plop down at the third table from the staircase, a square one I normally sit at with my friends. I spot Anisia already buying snack from our schools service, and I grab my wallet to do the very same.

I wasn't supposed to buy snack in the mornings unless it was a special situation as my mother thinks I'm going to get fat. Siddling up to Anisia I select a casual greeting. "What up hoe?" with a crooked smile. "You're calling me a hoe? When you have all those side hoes plus Kaden and Tristan?" she fires back with a laugh. "Oh please, at least I don't find all my boyfriends on Kik. You're gonna get kidnapped one day."

I'm serious about that, Anisia lives fast and loose. She's a girl form what you might call the actual ghetto, but she's not hard, like me she has a serious mother who's all about the grades. Once she got here, however, she's been acting really fake. I suppose the whole white people thing caught her slightly off guard. Her real personality is garish and oppressive, she's hypocritical and loud, and yet popular in her grade. Anisia's been close friends with the most racist kid in the middle school for about a year. I complain about her constantly. Jessica DeGrassi, that bitch.

"Whatever, they were all crusty anyways, I'll have a croissant and a peach snapple", she speaks her order to Tik staff lady who responds with a genuine smile. Anisia's choir child voice can be quite convincing. We return to the table and munching on my own muffin I recount anything I can remember from yesterday that she would find interesting. "Oooh girl, Helena rejected Gabe's crusty ass again! It was all over snapchat, I was dying" I whip out my galaxy and show her the inconsequential drama.

"Of course she did! He's mad creepy, but he could be zaddy tho"

"Ya nasty"

This conversation is almost as fake as American Freedom. I don't like Anisia, she's rude to be and makes me feel pretty crappy sometimes. But I cling to her as one of the few poc in the school. I wish it didn't have to be this way. "Hey Kesi!" Anisia suddenly cries. I look up to see my best friend walking our way. Her dark backpack hanging off one shoulder as she strides quickly. A breath is released when she reaches us, resting her things on the table. "Hey y'all"