Take A Step (unrestricted) (on hold)

One: Sophie Call

One: Sophie Call

“Why I think I’m A Weak Person”

            I think too much. I remember too much. I have too many lyrics in my head. I have too many books to read. I miss my mother too much. I still have so much to tell her. I am angry at my brother. I am angry at the world. I have never been so.

            I am afraid of people. I am afraid of waking up each day without my mom. I am afraid of spiders, insects and other stuff. I am afraid of drunken people. I am afraid of the water. I am afraid of drugs. I am afraid of the hospitals. I am afraid of boys. I am afraid of men. I am afraid of blood. I am afraid of so many things I can’t even begin this essay properly. Mrs. Wiggs, I am so sorry if this activity of mine sucks so bad you’d have to give me a failing grade. Don’t do that, please. I can’t fail. I can’t have to go. I want to stay. I’ll do better next time.

            I think I am a weak person because I lost my mom. I thi

            “Kriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!”

            Everybody gets up that same second as the bell continuously rings. Skirts fly and hair wags and hips sway from side to side as girls of every size; shape, hair color, and skin throw their papers onto Mrs. Wiggs’ table. She had fallen asleep over the book she was reading. I stand from my seat last, and walk towards her. I do not think of finishing my essay, I just had to pass it to her and pray that she understand.

            Mrs. Wiggs is never a mean teacher—she actually reminds me of how my mother used to be. Mrs. Wiggs falls asleep over books, likes baking pie, and is a very wonderful mother to two of my friends here at Saint Joan’s Academy for Girls. Her daughters are my roommates—Jean and Jet. They are twins. Our room is of two beds—one king-sized for Jean and Jet, and one queen-sized for me.

            “Mrs. Wiggs… Mrs. Wiggs,” I softly tap her on the shoulder.

            “Uhn…” she groans, finally stretching and blinking.

            “Oh, hello, Sophie,” she smiles.

            I arrange the papers on her table that the other girls left lying around and put mine at the bottom.

            “Good afternoon—or, noon, rather, Mrs. Wiggs. I am going to the cafeteria now, just like the others. Here are our papers. Have a nice day,” I smile back and get out, consciously holding onto the strap of my bag.

            I walk and walk to where the cafeteria is. I pass along the halls. More girls. What do I even expect? This is a school for all girls. We wear screaming red skirts three inches above our knees in suspenders with white blouses underneath, black knee high socks and black shoes. There are all kinds of girls—nerd girls, mean girls, colored girls, blonds, brunettes, black-haired girls, straight-haired girls, curly-haired girls, dark-skinned girls, pale girls, skinny girls, curvy girls, nice girls, musical girls, tone-deaf girls, girls who dance, girls who have accents, girls who have dyslexia, slutty girls, heavy girls, athletic girls, artistic girls, beautiful girls.

            I don’t exactly know where I belong. I mean, I’m pretty average. I stand five feet-two, I’m strawberry blond, a little bit on the skinny side, but with two big enough bumps on my chest to actually remind people that I am a seventeen year old girl. I have eyes the color of the sky. My name is Sophie Call, and I used to live in the beautiful country side of Maine. Saint Joan’s is also beautiful. Our dormitory slash academy is actually quite satisfying a view for me whenever I feel the need to paint—it has vivid green landscapes, earthly textures, and the dormitory is just splendid as it carries the architectural style of London’s fine mansions. At the very corner of our territory lies the lake, the one of which became my favorite place when I first transferred. Other girls don’t often come there because we are not allowed to take a dip. I don’t, either. I just watch the sun set from the other side. I walk two hundred and eighty-seven steps everyday just to reach the lake and watch the sun set from afar. Why not go closer? We aren’t allowed.