The Truth Telling Game

Chapter One

    "Alexis!!" I hear my mom screaming from the kitchen. "We're going to go to the mall, do you want to come?"
    I walk out of my room and yell,"Nope!" and walk in my room, slamming my door.
    I see my mom's car drive down the street, in the direction of the mall. I don't understand why she would ask me if I wanted to go to the mall, when she knows I absolutely hate every store in the mall, besides Hot Topic, cause duh, band member T-Shirts.
    Now that is a little glimpse of my life, as Alexis Rivers; my parents and my sister, Tiffany (my brother, Mark, stays home with me to "take care of me") go someplace they know I can't stand, and ask me if I want to come. There is honestly no point at all, unless I magically decide to become like my sister, but everyone knows that will never happen.
    I put on my headphones and blast My Chemical Romance, while taking out my so called,"homework" assigned by Mrs. Daniels. By "homework", I mean an All About Me paper.
    This is Mrs. Daniels first ever year teaching high schoolers and it's pretty obvious. She treats us like we're six instead of sixteen, and the obvious, she gave us an All About Me sheet. I didn't understand why we need an All About Me sheet in math.
    I asked her before I left the class why we needed one, and she said that she wanted to learn more about us. If you wanted to learn more about us, can't you just ask? But this is fine though, we get one day to not do math.
    Trust me, you don't want to know about me. Or my thoughts. Who would want to learn about the girl who listens to music in class, or the girl who is stereotyped,"emo"?
    I try to get all of those thoughts out of my head, and it eventually stops. That's one thing: my thoughts control me. People say really mean things to me, and once I think about them, I can't get them out of my head. Those words like: Emo, Worthless, Goth, Ugly; those words have been said to me, and I try to pretend I'm okay, and I don't care, but I care. I care a lot. Apparently I'm good at acting, I've actually starred in 3 plays.
    I've been visiting a therapist for about a year, but nothing has been helping. Now it just feels like it's getting worse. My shrink says that I'm beautiful, and that nobody needs to tell me otherwise. But that's a problem. If no one tells me I'm beautiful, I will start to believe I'm not pretty and perfect, like my sister.
   Getting out my homework and reading the questions gets those horrible thoughts out of my head. I take out a pen and answer all of the questions:

Name (If you go by any other name, please write it down.): Alexis Rivers (Prefers to be called Alex.)
Any medications: Antidepressants

    Writing Antidepressants makes me cringe, but I move on.
    I finish the paper of (really dumb) questions in about 7 minutes, so I end up reading my new book.
    Right when I take out the book out of my backpack, my brother barges in,"Hey Lex, wanna play Black Ops 3?"
    "No thanks," I say and return to my book.
    "You didn't let me finish," He says, leaning on my door frame. "Black Ops 3: Zombies?"
      Yes, I have a slight obsession with zombies. On my twelfth birthday, I had a zombie themed party; we went to zombie paintball hayride. My cake was shaped as a brain, and sure looked like one. The icing looked like goo, and most of the kids there were afraid to eat the cake.
      "You know me too well." I say, shaking my head, as he smirks and leaves my room. I smile to myself, take my headphones off, and follow my brother to his room.

    We end up playing until my parents come home from the mall, for about an hour and a half. In the middle of a game, my sister, Tiffany, rudely interrupts us,"Ohmigod, Alexis, you are not a guy!!"
    "Who said I couldn't play video games? This is a free country Tiff, I can do what I want," I say sarcastically. "Also, quit calling me Alexis."
    "Well I can call you whatever I want, cause it's a 'free country'," She says using air quotes. She leaves the room, and I roll my eyes.
    "Honestly though," I say. "I get to do what I want; I'm older than her, so why should I listen to her?"
    "Older by three minutes," Mark laughs, and I reply by elbowing him in the rib.
    Yes, we are twins. Both born on November 18. And yes, I'm older than her by three minutes and 48 seconds, but that still counts as older. We look alike (kinda), but it's easy to tell us apart; we dress differently, not to mention that her voice sounds like a mouse, while mine sounds like a gorilla (I mean that her voice is super squeaky, while mine is really deep.)
    She likes pink, I like black. She's popular, I'm not. She's known as the funny one, but when I make a joke, people take it way too seriously. Why is she considered the 'cute one', while I literally have the same face? Sure, she has better makeup products, and uses it way better than I do, but we still look the same.
    "But she has a point," Mark says. "You are a girl, you should act like it." I respond by elbowing him in the rib (again), and he winces. "What the heck, Lex?!"
    "Why does everyone want me to change?"
     "Because you can be violent at times," He says, rubbing his rib. "And mean. And quiet. And not-too social. And really-"
     I elbow him in the rib (and I promise you, this is the last time), and without saying anything else, leave before he can smack me.
    I think to myself, Do people really want me to change that bad? Am I that serious? Do I need to change?
    "Nah," I think out loud. "I don't need to change for anyone, and anything."
    And thank God, I made the right decision.

    When I get to school the next morning, the first person I see is Conrad Dale, Connor Dale's twin brother. He's older by 4 minutes, kind of like me. He's talking to his friends, not noticing me watching him.
    Here's the thing: Connor used to like me. And I liked him back. We weren't dating, but at the same time we were. It wasn't official, but he treated me like a princess, and I absolutely loved him. My parents loved him too; they said he was kind and charming, funny and handsome. I felt the same way. I thought that we would be inseparable, but I thought wrong.
    Did he cheat on me? Short answer: yes.
    Long answer: he "cheated" on me with Emma Hanna, the cutest girl ever. Huge butt, perfect makeup, cutest clothes, she was perfection compared to me. I stuck to black and white, while she would always wear various colors a day, like my sister. Something that I cannot achieve: look like I fit in.
    I flashback to that Saturday night, at Marrissa Richard's party. I told Connor I was going to the bathroom, and he said that he would be by the staircase. He must've forgotten about me, because when I went back to the staircase, he was kissing Emma, hands roaming everywhere.
    This must've been normal at parties, because no one seemed to care that Emma and Connor's hands were going to places I would rather not mention.
    And of course, the clichè happened, and he eventually found out. I ran out, and Emma ran towards her best friend, Taylor.
    He blamed his actions on alcohol, and said he was drunk. There was alcohol there, but he can't get drunk in 3 minutes, thats probably not possible unless you chug 200 bottles in a minute, which is possible, if you are okay with throwing up 30 times.
    On Monday, Emma started talking to Connor
    On Tuesday, Emma was walking next to Connor.
    On Wednesday, Emma was holding Connor's hand.
    On Thursday, Taylor said that Connor kissed Emma.
    On Friday, Emma and Connor were now dating.  
    The next week, Connor acted like he didn't know me. I was just a piece of his past, deleted.
    Sure, we weren't actually dating, but it felt real, and everyone treated it like it was.
    Once I realized that I was staring at Conrad for literally 2 minutes , I quickly turn away and head the other direction. What I didn't know, is that he was looking at me too.

    During free period, I went to the library to return and get a book. After I did that, I sat at a table (by myself, as always) and read for about 10 minutes, until I see a figure stand in front of me. I don't look up, but just say,"What do you want, because if you don't notice, I'm reading."
    The figure doesn't move, but just stands there, with it's hands on the table.
    I finally look up and see his blue eyes and the trademark red sweatshirt, and know immediately, the being standing in front of me is Conrad Dale.