So this goes out to my adorable little sister, Rebecca. She is crazy, and fun, and I love to be around her. I love my little sister, and I'm sure she loves me too!! So to my spazy little sister, I give you this chapter.
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August 30th
Lee was sick today. Thank God. I don’t really think she’s sick; I think she’s hung-over. All the girls in that group, plus a handful of guys, had a party at Lee’s house. Her parents were away, so booze was probably served.
A few kids from that clique are slumped behind me, chewing gum and wearing glasses. Their annoying chatter doesn’t fill the room today thankfully. Although, I’m surprised the teachers haven’t picked it up yet. Well, they are the teachers; they’ll never notice or care, no matter how many “you can come to me,” talks they give you.
But I guess people are like that. Most of us don’t care about others. We’re too busy complaining or doing things for ourselves. Now, I know I do those things, but that makes me even more different than the others. I’ll admit my faults rather than cover them up with make up like they do.
Miss Debbie, the writing specialist, even though she teaches math which I don’t get, reads my essays and poems every so often. She always makes remarks about how deep I am. If she had all the time in the world to just think she’d be like me. But who would want to be?
And I’m off again on one of my tangents of complaining. I need to work on that. I’m so engrossed in my thoughts that I forget Mrs. Johnson is babbling on and on about what I should wear. With a sigh, I finally tune into what she’s been saying. With a sigh, I finally tune into what she’s been saying. She leads me into a closet full of dance clothes that I use to perform in.
“Since the song is soulful, I was thinking blue,” she began, her hands running across the fabrics. I shake my head and wove through the cloths, looking for the right one. And then I see it. I lift the stringy red skirt up with the tiny top. This is the one. Mrs. Johnson’s eyes glimmer with excitement. She knows it, too.
Once putting it on, we walk in silence. I hand my I-pod to her and slip in through the back door. The voices of the dance class swirl around me. It’s almost dizzying.
I take a deep breath and march out, ready to begin.
.*. .*. .*. .*. .*. .*. .*.
The dance goes well. Everyone claps and really likes it. I smile with gratitude, gather my things and run into art.
Mrs. Sheemus, the art teacher complains about how I’m always late and I hand her the note from Mrs. Johnson. She nods in understanding and ushers me into a seat.
“This year we have an art expo.”
Everyone in the class looks bored except for me. If no one else enters, I don’t mind winning. I grin to myself as Mrs. Sheemus begins with the theme. Nature. Oh great. If there’s anything I don’t enjoy painting, it’s nature. I mean why do we need to paint flowers or grass? We can go outside and see it. There’s art in nature so why capture it on a canvas? I roll my eyes and listen until the bell rings. Hopefully, Mrs. Sheemus won’t ask me to participate.
But of course, thanks to my luck, she stops me after class. “Hey Emma?” she calls. I stop in my tracks, turning to face her. “I was wondering if you could take place in this art expo. You see, I don’t have a lot of students who are doing it this year. And I think you’re a very artistic kid. So will you do it for me?” she gives me a pleading look and I bite my lower lip, nodding my head.
She is so lucky.
“Thank you!” she calls after me. I just want today to be over…
As I walk out, I feel the stare of Lee. I know it’s here because no one glares that harshly at me. I swear it could burn a hole in my back! Thank God it doesn’t or I’d be dead by now. I can’t help but feel dizzy. Sucking in a deep breath, I close my eyes and begin the walk home only to relive this cycle again tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken
RomanceEmma is a normal fifteen year old girl with normal fifteen year old problems. She likes boys, she loves to dance, she wans to go to the parties, you know? She wants to be the popular girl. It's kinda hard when you can't talk.
