Muddle on! (#Wattys2016)

Prologue.

Life sucks.

You know why?

Because I'm rather average. Although, to be average was never my problem. It started way before High School. I'd say, it started from the moment I was born and became the youngest child. Then the second youngest when my little brother was born. And having two more siblings upfront, made me that severely disregarded middle child.

Don't take me wrong. Life treated me mildly. Here and there I had some bumpy moments, but all in all, there wasn't such event that left my fragile psyche traumatized.

Kristen, my older sister, was firstborn and because of that, always the main topic of a conversation in our family. She was born six years ahead of me, and our spheres never crossed. When I turned seven and just discovered that Ken was, in fact, Barbie's boyfriend, shocker I know, she was already thirteen and discovering lip-gloss and eye shadows. Fair to say that our mutual interests had nothing in common like Donald Duck and Star Wars. There was simply nothing that could bring us together. We only had our parents and the last name as a proof of our relation.

The second person of great value in our family was my older brother Kyle. In a certain sense, he was more important than Kristen. Kyle was an athlete. Pride and joy of both of our parents. My mother adored him. I guess it had something to do with mother/son relationships. And my father loved him because he was good at sports and his mini-copy in many ways.

Then there was my younger brother Ben. He was what you call an Oops baby, and because of that fussed over a little less than my older brother Kyle. When all attention was not on my two older siblings, it belonged to Ben. He was that child that was tagged along to all family events, any sports events, any church events or even funerals. He wasn't spoiled, but anytime someone attempted to scold him, a phrase "leave the child be" was applied and any conflict was resolved as a result.

And then there was me, Marie Belle Thompson. Even my name stood out from my family naming tradition. My mother assured me a million times that that was a name of her dear friend from childhood, but the more I thought about it, the more I got convinced that that friend wasn't that dear after all.

My average life had no surprises. At all. Though, I never gave much thought to my position in life. My middle school years passed smoothly, unnoticed. I was never bullied or mocked at school by richer or bitchier girls. No bad boy in my life kept stalking me. There was no Queen Bee, who consistently beat me up and pushed me into the lockers in the school's hallways. I wasn't a nerd with straight A's or even from a poor family. As I said before - everything about me was average. Including the way I look. I wasn't beautiful but wasn't ugly either. Like Sam from "sixteen candles". My figure wasn't polished and skinny, but I wasn't fat or even plump. I wasn't a star athlete but wasn't a sore eye of a team either.

One word. Average.

And being average, never bothered me until one day when I realized that I wasn't just in the middle. My own parents weren't interested in me.

It happened in my sophomore year after a talent show. Stupidly, I signed up for the competition and even had some guts to believe that I might win something. For several weeks prior the show I was rehearsing my dance number. I've watched over a hundred videos and choose the best moves - a la MC Hammer, of course.

The music was booming when I came out on the stage in my sparkly red costume. Imagining myself not less than Beyoncé, I started dancing and moving and spinning and even jumping. Then, my performance was over, and I heard the applause. Still being in a Beyoncé mood, I went behind the stage and started waiting for the end of the show.

I was so hoping...

I could practically taste a victory in my mouth and not that burrito that I ate a few hours earlier. But my name was never called out even for the third place. To say that I was disappointed was an understatement. Big fat understatement. I was mortified. Olympic medalists that hoped for gold but won silver would be less disappointed than I felt that day.

Die, All the single ladies, die!

Behind the stage, I saw all the kids who performed. There were several popular girls and couple of A's. I watched the way popular girls glared and A's and visa verse. You'd think that we were in a UFC match or something. But what was strange, I received nothing of that kind. Nobody pushed me on the way out. No one said anything nasty to me. No one came to me to say that I was a talentless cow, or that I was good, but the jury preferred more popular students to me. When I came from the backstage to meet my parents in the audience, I realized that my parents, surprise - surprise, weren't even there.

Later, I learned that they went to buy a thing for my brother, regardless that I left the notes all over the house and reminded them about the show multiple times.

What was even more depressing was that when I complained about that to my mother, she didn't even ask me if I got any prizes. She just said, and I quote "Oh, honey! You are a big girl now. You know that there are more important things than some stupid talent shows."

Yeah...

During my senior year in High School, I tried to rebel and once sneaked out from the house using my bedroom window.

Bad, bad move.

My misfortunes started from the moment when I slipped onto the roof and somehow managed to rip my jeans on my butt. And the hole was a size of my butt, mind you. How did I manage... Anyway, then when I landed on the ground, it turned out that I landed one foot into a freshly made flower bud.

Ha-ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha-ha.

That was then when I discovered that I had only socks on. Now tell me, who in the world tries to sneak out wearing only socks?

But my adventures didn't finish there. To top it all, when I started pulling my foot out the soil, I lost my balance and fell right into the mud face first. And let me tell you when I realized that the ladder that my father usually kept in the backyard was missing from its usual spot, I knew that there was not a chance for me to get back into my room the same way I got out.

That night I spent sitting on the deck of my own house. Because not only the both doors of our house were locked, but also, what a coincidence, I learned that the doorbell didn't work either. When I tried to knock, my blows remained unanswered. Tut-tut.

When the morning came, I imagined my parent's disappointed eyes. And that they would say something like "we expected more from you and blah blah blah" but when my mother came out to grab something from the table on the deck, she only said to me good morning with a smile, and asked me to pick up a newspaper from the driveway. I guess, my dirty state of being got somehow slipped from her scrutinizing observation.

Also, that morning, my neighbor Eddie, who was in my English class, saw my undies when I went into my front yard and bend to pick up that damned newspaper. And that, my friends, was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

After that, I stopped trying. I bought myself a diary that named Albert after my late cat Albert and decided not to seek for any kind of attention from anyone. Apparently, that any of my attempts failed miserably. Alas, my destiny was a remote control and a sofa in the basement.

The day when I left for college was one of the dullest days of my life. As usually, Kristen stole the show when unexpectedly returned home from Chicago to visit us. She brought along some guy named Norman and claimed him to be her fiancée. My mother instantly forgot all about my preparations and when the time came for me to depart for college. What do you think? I had no one home to say goodbye to. Norm and my father went fishing on the boat. Kristen with my mom went dress shopping. Ben was MIA. The only one who had any kind of regards towards me was my childhood friend Marcie. She was only one who sent me a text message wishing me the best in my college life.

And so I left.