SHE.

161 Days Before Graduation

So here is chapter two of SHE we hope you guys like it! 

xoxo,

Imnotafiveyearold

____________________________________________

Becca,

Self-Image.

That is something that has always controlled this town. I remember when we would go down to Marshall Lane. The ice cream man would always be out there in the summer. We would get our usuals—yours was Rocky Road and mine was Cotton Candy. 

You would take me down there and we would play for awhile. You and Dave would walk me home and then go do your own thing. I remember that day clearly. Mom yelled at you. She told you how Dave was no good. He was the gardener's son and that we shouldn't be associated with him.

You challenged her. You asked why. She then told you that being around him would ruin her reputation. You left the house and didn't come back for a week. The next time you left you never came back.

Love,

Aiden

161 days till Graduation

I think what really screws us up most in life is the picture in our heads of how it's suppose to be. Everyone wants to be perfect and to be remembered that way. The perfect house, the perfect family, the perfect clothes. I could go on and on. Why is that? Why do we strive for perfection when it is just a perception.

As I ate breakfast with my parents I notice that the masks are still on. We are a spectacle in play. Mom's blonde hair is pinned up, her face readily applied with makeup for the role and don't forget the pearls that adorn her neck. Dad's dark hair is slicked back, his suit is clean and crisp as he plays the role of the cruel businessman. His wealth may be attractive and endearing to many, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

"Ava will you pass the me the salt. You would think by now Mags would be able to cook an omelette properly." My dad remarks as scowl spreads across his face.

"Of course dear, and I will tell her that she needs to improve." My mom answers in a sickly sweet voice. My dad replies with raspy huff. We continue to chew our food as our table falls into a deep uncomfortable silence. If someone stepped into the room all they would hear is movement of the utensils as we pick up our food.

"A scout from Duke asked me to practice with their team. He says I one of the best players he has ever seen." I say breaking the silence.

"One of the best." My dad arrogantly interjects.

"I have a real shot here dad." I reply knowing where this conversation is headed.

"I already told you that you are wasting you time at Duke. You are going to go to Princeton." He tells me, a stern expression replaces his previous scowl.

"I want to keep my options open." I explain to him.

"You don't have to. You know that one phone call to Princeton from me and you are in." He chuckles as if this was all so obvious.

"I don't think Princeton is really for me." I look at my mom for help, but once again I'm out of luck. She continues to stare at her food like it is the most interesting thing in the world.

"Of course Princeton is for you. I went there, your grandfather, and his father. You wouldn't be my son if you didn't go. Listen here soccer is a hobby not a career and I will not throw away everything for you to ruin this family's livelihood." Dad declared his nostrils' flaring.