"Time to get up Lizabeth," Mom yelled from downstairs. Normally, I would never be able to hear that. Ever since the accident, I've become more aware of my surroundings. I'm a light sleeper, I locate all the exits whenever I enter a new room, and I don't talk to people. The doctors called is Post Dramatic Stress Disorder or PTSD, from the accident.
I groaned and sat up, placing my foot on the floor. I looked down at the stump that ended right below the knee, dreading that I have to leave the house. I used the bed to stand up, putting my weight on the left leg as I reached for my plastic one. I secured it on with Velcro before shifting my weight ever so slightly.
After finding my balance, I put on a pair of loose jeans and a light blue shirt. Even in the summer I wear jeans, so no one can see my metal endoskeleton. Thank god I hadn't lost any arms, that would've made everything a lot harder to do.
I walked into the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. I do what any other teenage girl does, judge themselves. I was fine with the shape of myself. I wasn't considered fat, but I wasn't exactly skinny either. What can I say, I like chocolate. My dirty blond hair swung in front of my face in wisps. My green eyes looked somewhat grey today. Mom says that they change color depending on what i'm wearing, but I don't believe her. I quickly ran a brush through my hair and putting it up into a somewhat neat bun. I brushed my teeth and headed down the hall.
"Coming Mom!" I yelled back, quickly but carefully making my way down the stairs, my hand firmly on the railing. I walked into the kitchen, smelling the deliciousness that is my moms pancakes. I don't know how she does it, but they are amazing. I sat down at the table just as mom swiftly laid down a plate in front of me. I dug in, savoring the amazing taste.
"So, doing anything big today?" she said, leaning on the counter. The scar that ran down her arm reminded me of what we've been through. She had to have two surgeries, to repair her forearm and wrist.
"Um, I have a test in history?" I said as I swallowed another piece of pancake heaven.
"I meant talking to someone. Making some friends?" She said, crossing her arms. I looked down at my plate. That was a bigger challenge then I'd like to have at the moment. I sighed and looked up.
"It's just... I don't know mom, i'm not very good at making friends," I said, wiping the syrup off my face and getting up. I handed her my plate and she set it down gently in the sink.
"You're good at making friends, you're just not excellent at talking to people. I know it's hard. Just try, for me?" She said, giving me her best puppy eyes. She always does this. Sometimes I believe i'm more mature then she is. I wont give in. Not this time. Except, I say that every time.
"I'll try okay, no promises," I said, rolling my eyes. She clasped her hands together with a big smile. "I gotta get going, school's going to start soon. Bye mom," I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
"Have fun!" She said.
"Doubtful!" I said back with a smile before shutting the door. When we moved, my mom made sure that the school was close by, because I prefer to walk over driving. Whenever i'm in a car, I tend to freak out, just something about the accident makes me think that the car is going to crash, and everything is going to happen all over again. I know it's very unlikely, but I can't help it.
I walked down the street, lost in thought. Eventually, I made it to the school, and inside on time. I'm normally in that group of people who arrive not too early, but not too late either. My first class was English, my favorite subject. Mostly because it's not easy for me to express myself vocally. I tend to write very much, that's how I ended up in a college level class.
"Alright everyone, to your seats. Let's get to work," Mrs. Terrence said, walking into class. Everyone shuffled into their seats, afraid of Mrs. Terrence's wrath. She was stern, but nice in some ways as well. I liked her, and she liked me. The teachers knew of course, about my leg. They were sworn to secrecy unless an emergency occurs. Some pitied me, but never gave it away, which I was grateful for.
"Lizabeth, please come over here," she said. I nodded and got up, walking to the front. On my way up though, I tripped on a bag. Of course it had to be my bad leg. I crumbled to the floor, gasps coming from all around the room. "Are you alright? Are you hurt!?" Mrs. Terrence exclaimed, flocking over to me. Pain shot up my arm, but other then that I was okay.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," I said. Yes, I said it. The teenager by me looked like she was going to pass out.
"Do you need to go to the nurse?" Mrs. Terrence asked, helping me up.
"No, I'm okay," I said, getting her hint about my leg. Everyone looked stunned. Did everyone think I was mute?
"Okay. Back to your textbook work," she ordered as she handed me a paper when I sat down in my spot. The room went silent, and I felt very uncomfortable. My leg was fine, I had landed on my arm anyway. This was going to be a very interesting day...
Hey everyone! Hope you enjoy this book! What do you think of the cover? I love it!---Maddie
YOU ARE READING
Feg
Chick-Lit"Oh my gosh, Lizzums!" He said. I turned, looking at him. This can't be good. "It's a Feg!" He squealed. I closed my eyes, disappointed that this child could be the face of the future. "Why are you calling my prosthetic leg a 'Feg'?" I said with a...
