I'm Not Hungry

One

Why? Why me?

I look in the full wall mirror at my bulging thighs, wide hips, protruding stomach and unrecognizable collar bones. I look at my imperfect features.

I'm starting in a new school for my junior year. My first school with people who, hopefully, aren't rich, stuck-up and snotty. Make friends, no guys, drinks, drugs, parties or tobacco. That's what my mom says. It's all I've heard from her this whole year, and its September.

So back to what we were talking about. I'm not exactly what you would call normal. What exactly, you may ask, do I mean by that? Well, I have a few problems with my life, my mother isn't mother material, my father is dead and I have absolutely no friends. Yay, me!

I throw on a long sleeved, blue cardigan, black, comfy leggings and my Jordan's. Jumping down the stairs, I think about taking an apple to school but leave the idea there. Entering the garage I see my black Dodge Ram truck. Yes, I am a truck person. My mom lets me get whatever I want, whenever I want. I'm pretty sure that it's her messed up way of saying, "sorry I'm never home and that I don't love you, but I'll give you all this money to make up for it." That's a great mother/daughter relationship right there. Once I start down the road, I turn on the old radio, because it's harder for me to drive when I don't have music on.

As I'm finishing listening to Stronger by Kanye West, I pull in the schools parking lot. The school itself isn't very impressive. Just plain red brick.

The people there, though? Beautiful people, and that's an understatement. All the girls have flat stomachs, a thigh gap and perfect, angular features.

Don't even get me started on the guys. I may be ugly, but I can still ogle at the beautiful creatures of this earth. They have muscles, not too big, but not small in the least bit. Most of them have the Prince Charming look going on. Blonde hair, blue eyed perfection. Some, though, have a rugged look going for them. Definitely worth attention.

I step out of my Dodge and no one looks at me, thank the lord, they all just go on with their business. Inside the school, though, is a whole other story. As the rusty metal doors close everyone looks at me. Everyone.

Why would they look at me? I'm not pretty.

I put my head down and walk aimlessly, trying to find the office with all those people's eyes on my back, distracting me. Not looking where I am going, I run into a rock hard wall.

Well of course it's rock hard. It's a wall, idiot.

"Would you watch where you're going, bitch?" the wall says, sounding quite hostile. Wait a minute. I look up and see the most amazing block of muscle to ever be placed on the great planet. He doesn't have the Charming look, nor is it rugged. It's basically the opposite, with his raven black hair and sea green eyes. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," he says in an amused tone.

Woah, bipolar much?

"Excuse you, asshole, but not everyone has to kiss the ground you walk on," I growl. I can instantly tell that he's the popular, egotistical type.

And you say you don't want attention. Smart Belle, real smart.

"Damn, this one's hot and feisty. You better take her, man, or I will." Some guy says. Why must everyone feel obliged to lie to me? For the last time, I'm not pretty! This dude that I just ran in to has barely looked at me once. Though instead of yelling this, I just roll my eyes end wall away. "Dude she's walking, say something!" the same guy speaks again. I roll my eyes once again.

Warning: Death by ORED (Obsessive rolling eye disorder)!!

"What do you want me to say, huh? 'Hey, bitch can I screw you?'" the guy yells. Before I can hear any more of their conversation, I walk out of earshot.