Misfits

Ella

"Cariña!" Mama calls from downstairs, hurrying me along. "Ya voy!" I yell back, telling her I'm coming. My mother is Mexican, and my father American, so I grew up with large dishes and Spanish, yet fast food and democracy. It's definitely different, but I can't say that I'm happy being a 'chicano'. I'm stuck between worlds, not only culturally, but in appearance as well. I have thick black hair and wide lips from my mother. My father gave me blue eyes. I have a combination of olive and white toned skin. I'm a little on the round side because of all the food I'm given. All I want is to change who I am. I don't want to be Gabriella, the darker girl who is fluent in Spanish. I want to blend in, and make friends, and be an American. I hate myself for it. And I hate my mother for making me hate myself. I hate her heritage for making me hate my mother. I hate not knowing who I am. I hate it. I want to change it. I want to end my cultural fluctuation. "Gabriella! Andale!" my mother shouts again, and I drop my gaze from my mirror to the bottle of blonde hair dye resting on the floor. I quickly hide it and rush downstairs to catch the bus to my first day of sixth grade. Escuela secundaria. Middle school. A time for new beginnings, and new identities. I already know how I'm going to identify in my new start. No more Gabriella, with the Spanish accent and the weird looks in roll call. I'm officially Ella. Ella Long, the normal girl with the normal name. One change down, so many to go.

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I sit on one of Starbucks' comfy couches, my back rigid and my hands cupped around a warm cup of coffee. I don't plan on drinking it, which is why I arrived so early. To give the illusion that I had already drunken most of it. The door opens and Darcy enters, looking completely out of place in her out-of-date clothing. Her hair is brushed today, however, and I think she's wearing some concealer. I don't think it's for the reason that most girls wear makeup, though. All the more reason to meet with her. I may have played it off to Lucas that I don't care about Darcy. But I do. Talking with her at lunch may be stressful (pertaining to what we talk about) and embarrassing (because of what she looks like), but it is the first time I have sat with someone at lunch since sixth grade. Since I went from Gabriella to just Ella. I had friends before Ella. Sure, they were the daughters of my mom's friends, and fellow Mexican-Americans, but they were nice to me, and we had fun.

Then I dyed my hair and changed my name, and suddenly wasn't one of them anymore. They excluded me from their table and didn't invite me places anymore. But wasn't that what I wanted? Didn't I want to rid myself of anything relating to my mom's heritage? Yes, I did. I just didn't think I would need new friends for that.

Trying to find new friends was hard. Super hard. No one wanted the fake American who engorged herself constantly. I sat alone at lunch every day or sixth grade, stuffing my face with homemade enchiladas and burritos.

Finally in the summer going into seventh grade I realized my mistake. I had been sitting at the pool, trying to tan like all the other girls, in my bikini when some fellow classmates walked by. It was a mixed group of boys and girls, so I tried to stick my chest out to impress them. (The boys so they would think I was pretty, the girls so they would be jealous of my prettiness and would want to be my friend.) Sticking out my chest only resulted in me sticking out my stomach. At first I was proud, because they were all pointing at me as they walked. Then I heard the laughing. And the whispers. And saw that they weren't pointing at my stylish swim-suit or what I though was my attractive chest. They were pointing and laughing at my fat.

"Look at her!" A popular girl, Sadie said to her friends. She was the leader of the group, and her words sliced through the air like a sharp knife. They prompted the others to make comments too, all the while laughing so hard they got stitches in their sides.

"What is she doing with her chest?"

"I think she's trying to make it jiggle!"

"Oh, how disgusting!"