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♥ AND I DON'T KNOW, DON'T KNOW, DON'T KNOW, DON'T KNOW WHO I WANT TO BE ♥

Chapter II

Queens, New York, 1954

♡ AND YOU'LL NEVER KNOW LOVE ♡

   Electra's fifteenth birthday had come and gone, and Valentine's Day was over. Electra had only got a few Valentine's cards, but from Anne and her own mother. It was embarrassing to go to school the next day and show off her cards, because everyone asked "Who'd you get yours from?" and she would have to reply, "My own mother and Anne, my best friend."

     Jennifer, of course, got many cards from students all over the school, mostly from boys. James, of course, got many cards from girls. She decided to stuff the cards in a paper bag and lie, "I didn't get any." That way she got looks of pity, not of judgment. Fortunately, the weekend was here and Electra had the house all to herself. Her mother had gone off to see her ill sister. She invited Anne over.

   "You know what's really sad?" Electra muttered, as her and Anne sat down to play Blackjack by the small TV that only got three channels.

    "What?"

    "Mother didn't even have to warn me not to have parties because she knew I'm not popular enough," she answered.

    "Don't wallow in self-pity, Electra," Anne poked her friend in the forehead. "It's better to be good, I think."

    "Yeah, but . ." She thought for a minute before glancing at Anne. "Hey, who am I?"

    "Electra," Anne answered simply as she lay down a card.

     "No, I mean who am I. What is my identity? Am I a nerd? A jock?" Electra sighed, blowing a stray piece of hair from her eyes. "I thought youth was meant to be beautiful. Something amazing. My mother always says she wishes she had her teen years back because "they were the best years of her life", but I don't see it. These have been ugly years."

    "You're you."

    "But I don't know who I am!" Electra threw her hands up, annoyed. "I always feel like someone else, Anne. I'm different around everyone: polite around my mother, able to relax around you, civil at school." Anne answered back calmly.

     "Just pick a personality, an identity. You need an identity, Electra. Without one, you're nothing. Now, do you have any Coca-Cola? I'm craving some."

Housewife, Beauty Queen, Homewrecker, Idle Teen.

The ugly years of being a fool, ain't youth meant to be beautiful?

   As Anne slept on the couch soundly, Electra stayed up, looking through some magazines. She had noticed something peculiar: all the popular beauty queens were blondes. She took a piece of her dark coffee-brown hair and twirled it between her fingers. Was this why she was not popular? She looked at Anne.

   "Anne," she shook her friend, who opened her green eyes slowly. "I know who I'm gonna be. A beauty queen!"

   "Have fun," Anne lay her head down and soon, she was back to sleep. Electra chuckled and turned her attention back to the magazine, turning the page, looking for hints and tips on how to be a beauty queen.

   "Rule number one," she murmured, reading the words aloud quietly. "Try to keep the inches on your waist below thirty-six." Electra looked to her stomach, making a mental note to check what her waist's inches were.