The Best Worst Match Ever

Potato Patato

Josh Camden had her boring dark brown hair up in a bun on top of her head, out of the way of her boring blue eyes. She tucked a few loose strands behind her ears and sighed, leaning her cheek rather unattractively upon her fist. She bit her lip and tapped her pen, a tick she couldn't seem to get rid of. She stopped her pen. The noise bothered her— and yet she couldn't stop. Josh found it almost ironic when she could get her eye to stop twitching at the pesky tip tap. Tap tap tap tap.

She closed her right hand around the ballpoint pen and lay it down next to her paper neatly. She brought her right arm down to her leg and instead tapped her fingers on her thigh. It was a much quieter method of tapping. She knew she should be writing her paper, but she couldn't for the life of her think of a semi decent thesis. She couldn't keep her hands still in her frustration. Her leg tapping got harder until it started to sting. Then she started to fidget with the strap of her shirt.

It was a dark blue, which her mother said complimented her eyes. Most of Josh's wardrobe was an array of blues. They went from periwinkle to night sky. Her mother said all of her blue shirts complimented her eyes. While Josh was entirely for obedience to elders, she found it angering that her mother always enforced jabs about her appearance. Sometimes she felt like her mother wanted her to be insecure and starve herself like a few other girls in her school. She was always telling her how she shouldn't eat as much as fast, or how she should wear foundation and concealer and blush and eyeliner and more concealer. If her mother had her way, Josh would probably look like a cake. A pretty cake, her mother would say.

The only way Josh saw fit to rebel against her parents was to stick to her plain blue tank tops and sweats and to eat all the potato chips and cookies she wanted. Her parents couldn't really complain; she wasn't especially fat or ugly. She was average, at best, according to her mother.

Josh really didn't have much meat on her. She had just enough that she looked like a natural human being. She wasn't emaciated nor was she plagued by extreme muffin tops. She didn't have acne all over; her skin was actually pretty clear.

In every other area of her life, though, she tried her very best to please her parents. For the most part, she succeeded. But one thing she failed every time it was under scrutiny: boys. Honest to goodness, Josh was undoubtedly straight, but because she didn't— or couldn't, as it was more commonly put to her— get a boyfriend, her parents thought otherwise. While Josh didn't see the big deal about being a homosexual, her parents looked down on them with nasty scowls. It made Josh sad that her parents could be so judgmental. So Josh was often sent to her room without dinner to think about what was wrong with her. She never found anything wrong with herself.

She started in her seat when she heard a crack. She hissed at the pain in her scraped skin. She had subconsciously picked up her pencil—yes, she had a pen and a pencil, another thing her parents found strange about her—and broken it in half.

In the silent room, the crack of the pencil seemed deafening and many heads turned toward her disapprovingly. She looked to the front desk. Typical. Mrs. Grande had her head down on her desk. She was most definitely past her prime and was quite the grump, so most of the students preferred her asleep. Even if she snores just a little.

She scowled at the kids who were still looking at her. So what? You've never broken a pencil before? Josh pushed back her chair quietly. She needed to leave the distracting and frustrating atmosphere. She packed her things and left the classroom. She knew the teacher wouldn't wake up until after the bell rang. She knew that the other students wouldn't dare tell on her, lest they risk the wrath of Mrs. Grande.

Josh didn't know what to do next. She had never left a class before dismissal before. After contemplation, she decided to take a round of the school. If she walked slow enough, the bell would ring before she even made full circle— or square? She wandered the halls, trying to keep her mind anywhere but her family. Josh ran her hand over the wall as she walked and began to sing without even meaning to.