Unorthodox (BOOK 1)

Chapter 2

~Vesper~

Everyone wants answers to their problems.

Most of all, my mom wants answers to me. So I'm the problem today.

She wants to know why she received a call from the principal.
Why I chucked a meatball at another student.
Why I started a food fight.
Why this is the third fight this week.
Why my math grade is an 'F'.

I just want to know why I can't open the fridge.

Yes, she is blocking my path to the fridge, with her hands on her hips, expression clearly saying 'You better have a good explanation for this'.
She doesn't need me to answer, in my opinion. She already got her answers from Miss Craig on everything. But she wants answers from me.

Really, it's not a fair bargain. If she allows me to open the fridge, get my Welch's and buy me some Twizzlers, I think we can be a lot more progressive. Sadly, this is not the case. I am forced to watch my mom go beserker on my behaviour.

"Why? In that brain, that is so unbelievably brilliant, you get an 'F' in most of your subjects?" she raves, pulling on her blond curls straight. "From the age of one you could read. Could play almost any instrument you never touched at four. Paint the Mona Lisa at six. Mensa says you have a higher IQ than Isaac Newton! Now you don't even try! It's like you want to fail!"

Mom is sweating from her rant workout, hair tousled and brooding, brown eyes become more piercing as ever. She looks at me searchingly only to see me fiddling with my necklace. The necklace that dad gave me.

Before he left.

Mom sighs, that tired sigh that gives me chills; that gave my dad chills. "What is going on?" she whispers before dragging herself up the stairs. I watch her go.

I want to hug her, tell her that I will do better.

But at the same time, I want to yell at her that I'm not some perfect diamond with flawless colorful rays.

She sees me as perfect, despite my curved legs, non-matching eyes and varying hair. Beautiful, even though my face sports freckles all over. I should be happy that she loves me no matter what, but I know better. In a world as twisted as this, people like me aren't accepted.
I'm the girl at the back of the class who the teacher forgets.
The shadow of shadows.
The food that doesn't sell.
The glitch in the video game.
The imperfection.

Trust me; I tried. My curved legs were straightened by a brace since it was necessary for my health. It did it's job, but there is still a slight curve. I tried dyeing my hair chocolate brown and wearing blue contacts, but the minute I showed up at school in those stuff, I was taunted for trying to fit in.

"What's the use?" Lance grinned, "What's the use of trying to change your appearance, when it's the same gremlin underneath?" He slammed my weak body against the locker, yanking my hair without pity. When he did let go, I felt my sticky blood on my hands.

So I did not bother anymore. I embraced my wild black-rooted, hair, stranding with brown and blond combination. Put it in dreadlocks and added colorful beads when I felt I needed to. I rocked my crazy style of mismatched earrings, jean overalls and weird t-shirts. I didn't hide my slightly tanned face sprinkled heavily with  darker freckles. I threw away the contacts, letting my real eyes see the world.
It did not stop my bullies though.

Suddenly, I don't think I want that Welch's anymore.

Grudgingly, I raise myself of the kitchen stool. My eyes fall upon a picture on the fridge. Hastily, I look away.It brings back bad memories; those I could not choose to forget permanently. I don't know why I didn't take it down. Maybe, I still can't let go of the past.

Because memories you want to forget, never leave.

A mighty yawn emits from my lips, before I could stop it. The couch looks more comfortable than ever, causing my legs to give way on the dark leather. I grab a cushion nearby, patiently waiting for sleep to drop in.

But I can't sleep.

I watch the cat clock tick; nonstop swinging it's tail. Mom bought it from my neighbor's garage sale. She says it adds a touch of elegance. It doesn't. I hate it.

Since I couldn't take the creepy cat any longer, I decide to go for a walk to clear my head. Let the cool breeze blow my problems away to someone with none. I scan my clothes. Not really the best to wear on a cold evening, but it will do.

"Hey mom!", I yell, "I'm just​ going for a walk, okay?"
No answer. Maybe she's asleep. Or maybe she's still mad at me.

Grabbing one of her oversized trench coats, I open the door to face Sanway Street. I don't bother locking the door since there is nothing to really take in our house. Have you seen our TV?

Anyway, as I walk down the cracked sidewalk, I gaze at my surroundings. Only, a few people seem to have the same idea as me; to go for a walk. Kids are playing catch at the nearby park, rude teenagers heckling passers- by and maybe a few shady graffiti artists picking the perfect canvas in unseemly places. Some bratty kid, who wants to ruin the peace, screams at her father for some ice-cream. The father; who's obviously broke; tries to talk to the kid, but the kid doesn't care a dot.

Strangely, I see 'Lorraine' written all over that kid.

Just as I'm about to turn a corner, some knuckle-head runs straight into me, unto the cold pavement.

"WHY DON'T YOU WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, YOU DUMB-BALL!" I shriek. Can you blame me? My butt hurts and where I landed, was the middle of the drain. I was swimming in muddy water.

"I'm sorry, okay! What's up with you?", cries the oaf. He was still struggling to get off of me, to no avail I must mention. My, is he heavy!

"I didn't think stupidity weighed this much!", I said groaning, "Just how much did you inherit from your parents?"

"Are you insulting my moms?!"

"Wow, you can understand English! Give the sucker a prize!"

Finally, he gets off me. As he dusts his clothes, he finally takes a look at his battered victim. That's when he laughs. Not a snicker. An outright laugh that has passers-by staring.

"What are you laughing about?", I huff.

The fool leans against the wall, and laughs in fits; almost to bits. "Oh... nothing," he stutters.
I stare at him, trying to understand this puzzle before​ me. "You're lying."

His grey eyes dance as he fixes his jacket collar. "Who would have thought that I would have met you this way?", he says, "That the so called ' Freak of Nature' is the most beautiful thing I ever laid eyes on?"

I don't compute. "Excuse me?!"

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This chapter has been a headache and a half! I hope this was worth it. Please comment, vote and share to all of your friends!

(Vesper's mom above!)