Feel Pretty

eight (Odell)

I woke up the next morning with a dull ache in my chest. Sleep had come in fitful bursts, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes of yesterday—Chloe's cutting words, the way Eli had stood up for me, and the overwhelming emotions that had crashed over me when I got home. Even now, sitting up in bed, I felt like I was caught in a storm I couldn't escape.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the bathroom. My reflection stared back at me with tired eyes, and I sighed, wishing I could just disappear for a while. Maybe if I looked different, if I wasn't so... me, things would be easier.

I spent more time than usual getting ready, trying to avoid the thoughts that gnawed at my mind. But it was no use. As I brushed my hair, Chloe's voice echoed in my head, cruel and biting.

"Why are you even friends with him? He's not even that pretty."

I flinched at the memory, my hand freezing in mid-brush. It didn't matter that Eli had stood up for me, or that Tanner had been silent but supportive in his own way. Chloe's words had burrowed deep, and I couldn't shake them off.

"Stop it," I whispered to myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. "Just... stop."

But the feelings wouldn't go away. They never really did. They lingered in the back of my mind, gnawing at my self-esteem, making me question everything.

By the time I made it to the kitchen, I was already exhausted. Dad was sitting at the table, sipping his morning coffee and reading the newspaper like he did every day. He looked up as I entered, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Morning, Odell," he greeted me, setting the paper aside. "You're up early today."

"Yeah," I muttered, grabbing a piece of toast and sitting across from him. "Didn't sleep much."

He frowned slightly, his eyes filled with concern. "You okay, son?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to say more. The last thing I wanted was to worry him. He had enough on his plate without adding my insecurities to the mix.

We ate in silence for a while, the only sound in the room the ticking of the clock on the wall. I kept my eyes on my plate, picking at the toast but not really eating it. My mind was too full, too distracted.

After a while, Dad spoke again, his voice gentle. "You know, if there's something bothering you, you can always talk to me. I'm here for you, Odell."

I looked up, meeting his gaze. There was so much kindness in his eyes, so much understanding. It made my chest tighten, and for a moment, I almost told him everything—about Chloe, about how I hated the way I looked, about the constant battle I fought with myself.

But the words stuck in my throat, and all I could manage was a weak smile. "Thanks, Dad. I'll be okay."

He studied me for a moment, as if trying to see past the walls I'd put up. But then he nodded, accepting my answer even though we both knew it wasn't the whole truth.

After breakfast, I grabbed my bag and headed out, dreading the day ahead. I knew I'd see Eli and Tanner, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Part of me wanted to be near them, to feel the comfort of their presence. But another part of me—the part that had been wounded by Chloe's words—wanted to pull away, to hide and pretend that everything was fine.

The walk to campus was uneventful, the morning air cool against my skin. I tried to clear my mind, to focus on anything other than the turmoil inside me. But as soon as I arrived, I spotted Eli waiting for me by the entrance, his usual easy smile in place.

"Hey, Della," he greeted me, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Morning," I mumbled, managing a small smile in return.