emery

you're invited

"who are you?" i asked, looking at what seemed to be a mirror reflection of myself, wearing a loose, cropped white top and a matching white miniskirt falling a few inches above my knees.

"i'm you," said the other me, smiling.

"then why are you smiling?"

"because i'm high."

"so you're me?" i questioned.

"yes, just on more cocaine," said the other me, right before giggling.

i shot out of bed, confused at the weird dream i just had. or was it a nightmare. the thought of having feelings wasn't horrible, but it was still very, very abnormal.

                                       -----

"emery, stop following me!" commanded penn, turning her head just to glare at me.

"we're headed to the same school," i retorted, right before i caught view of three guys running towards penn.

"penn!" screeched one guy, with close cropped black hair and russet brown skin. "i'll carry your books," he offered kindly. his companions, one with brown hair and one blonde hair following close behind.

"i'll hold, your, um, pencil!" exclaimed the blonde one, staring confusedly at penn. penn stared back at the group and then at me, as if i had an explanation for the past few minutes.

"okay! here, p.j.," said penn, nonchalantly handing her backpack to the leader of the group. she slipped a pencil out of the pouch of her backpack, and handed it gently to the blonde kid. his face lit up like he just received the best christmas present in history.

"what about me, penn? what can i carry?" questioned the guy with brown hair and heavily tanned skin.

"the regret of being her personal slave," i chimed, tired of holding back my tongue and watching the trainwreck called penn's relationships unfold.

-----

"perspective is so hard!" groaned ashley, squinting angrily at her horrible sketch. ms. banks walked by, stopping near our table.

"good job, emery. i love the fake, yet realistic depth on your sketch," complimented ms. banks, looking intently at my sketch and placing her hands on her hips.

"thanks. i might go into politics," i retorted, as she walked off and continued to observe the room.

"shit. if i don't get this perspective thing down, then i'll have to take remedial art," said ashley, facing me. "i heard they make lefties become righties," she whispered, cupping her hand around her mouth.

"aren't you a righty already?"

"oh no! they'll make me become a lefty. again!" panicked ashley, her mouth forming an o.

dear god, if you really, truly exist, please give me the strength not to choke this bitch out.

"emery, can you please help me?" asked ashley. i huffed and leaned over, looking at her pitiful drawing.

"remember, it's all about perspective. you have to create the illusion that this building is far away from from the page," i explained.