Redefining Beautiful

Chapter Six: Something Different

Chapter Six

Something Different

The first person I saw when I arrived at school was Emma Green. I hardly ever see her around school, and when I do, I don’t think twice about her. Emma is that mysterious girl that you see one minute, wonder about, then forget about her the next. She was new last year. It was a huge deal because she was so... different. Her hair was black, thin, long, and sleek. It fell around her face like a stream. She wore this blood red lipstick almost every day. Everyone labeled her gothic, but I saw her as a fresh face.

J. Elmore Middle School is a school of similarities. J. Elmore students shuffled on campus with their name brand clothing, and talks about their favorite sports teams, and the latest boy drama... everyone except Emma. She never really talked, but you could tell she wanted to. I admired the way she wore her unique look in confidence because I could never pull off something like that.

Anyway, Emma was wearing black skinny jeans, beat up original Converse, and a dark grey, long sleeve shirt when I spotted her in the nurse’s office. I was running late to school because I didn’t get much sleep. I’ll admit not being best friends with Destiny anymore was actually heartbreaking. I was hurt that she could walk past me at school and not even acknowledge me.

Emma was biting her nails, sitting on the chair in front of the empty nurse’s desk. I assumed she must be anxious for something. I could tell by the way she tapped her foot against the white tiled floor and how uncomfortable she looked sitting in the plastic chair, shifting her body side to side.

“You can go to class now, Ms. Bates. Here’s your pass,” the grouchy secretary slid me a yellow slip of paper.

“Okay, great,” I said softly. Taking the piece of paper, I slipped into the nurse’s office when the secretary became distracted by an incoming call.

“Hi” was the first word I spoke to Emma.

She looked at me, studying me for what felt like hours. Suddenly, she was done wriggling in her chair. She sat up straight, and nervously returned a quick wave.

“I’m Charlie,” I grinned, planting myself in the chair next to her. “I already know who you are,” I continued. She gave me a puzzled look. “You’re Emma...” I paused, trying to gather the courage to say this without sounding like a freak. “And I think you’re beautiful.”

After tugging on her sleeves, and clearing her throat, Emma finally spoke. Her voice was soft, and delicate. I felt her breath against my cheeks as she sighed. She reminded me of snowflakes. Cold, but melting away.

“Why do you need to see the nurse?” she asked.

“I don’t,” I shrugged. “I’m just really tired.”

“Me, too,” She looked away. “I’m always tired.”

“How come?” I asked.

“Anxiety.”

“What makes you so anxious?”

“What doesn’t make me so anxious?” She scoffed. “That’s a shorter list.” Emma was a riddle that I wanted to understand. I knew she was hiding so many dark secrets, and the only reason why I wanted to keep talking to her was because I was intrigued by who the real Emma Green was. 

I studied the profile of Emma while we sat in silence with a disinfectant spray aroma in the nurse’s office. “I’m scared of being alone forever,” I whispered. Emma looked at me with a blank stare. With my eyes, I told her it was okay to tell me anything because that’s how friends become better friends; sharing a piece of themselves.

“I’m scared of not being good enough for anybody,” She bowed her head and picked at the hole in her black skinnies.

Nurse Krissy walked into the office before I could say anything. She sat in her black swivel chair, rolled up to her desk, then glanced across the small office at Emma and I. “Emma,” she said. “You stay. Charlie, off to class.”

“See you at lunch,” I smiled at Emma before I walked to class. If Destiny was going to make new friends and leave me, I was going to do the same. Besides, Emma seemed really nice and not the freak Destiny painted her to be.

At lunch, I offered Emma chips from my tray. She declined, and then showed me sketches in her notebook of mystical creatures. I knew if Destiny were to see them, she’d make a disgusted face. Well, Destiny wasn’t there. I didn’t have to worry about what Destiny thought. All that mattered was what I thought. And I thought Emma’s sketches were cool, and she was pleased when I said that they were.

Before I knew it, I was spending every day at lunch with Emma. The more time I spent with her, the closer I got to her. The closer I got to her, the more I started piecing the puzzle pieces of Emma Green together. Emma was actually smart, and had straight A’s. She moved from Chicago where she had to leave behind her best friend and boyfriend that she doesn’t talk to anymore. When I saw Emma, I thought of Starbucks dude. I question why the two of them aren’t preps. They’re pretty people. They’re cool, and they’re much more interesting than the established preps at J. Elmore.

Then it hit me one day at lunch when Emma was telling me about her best friend from Chicago. “It was hard leaving her behind because she was really the only one who understood me,” Emma said.

I pinched a corner of my burrito off, and before sticking it into my mouth, I said, “I used to have one of those,” I was referring to Destiny.

“I mean, I’m not one of those girls that people look at and think ‘Oh, hey. She’s hot.’ She thought I was pretty and I guess, at the time, that was enough for me,” Emma explained.

I began to wonder if maybe Emma thought I was beautiful because I told her that I thought she was. In fact, I told Emma all my thoughts. Especially the ones about her, but she never openly admitted to me about the ones she had of me—if she ever even thought of me.

“Did Destiny think you were beautiful?” Emma asked me. I thought about Destiny’s diary where her true feelings were inscribed. I remembered each word she wrote, so I shook my head “no” to Emma’s question. “Well, she was probably too busy trying to convince others how pretty she is to tell you,” Emma shrugged and began doodling some more in her notebook.

You know, I don’t think it’s about being “beautiful” anymore. Maybe I don’t want to be beautiful. Or at least, beautiful in the way it is described in other’s eyes. People just assume that if you’re a girl, you’re all in a competition to be better than the next girl. Well, I don’t want competition. I just want to be able to say what I want, wear what I want, be who I want, and love who I want. I want confidence.