No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. ~Eleanor Roosevelt
Eleanor Wilson rules my school. She's beautiful, she's smart and she has a magic mouth. Every word that passes her lips is perfectly moulded to sound exactly how she wants. A simple hello puts you exactly where she wants you. She talks to teachers in a way that puts them above her but makes them feel below her. She talks to peers in a way that makes them feel loved but still below her. She talks to people she hates (me) in a way that makes them feel hated and below everyone. The only person she cannot manipulate is Finn, her brother. Finn Wilson is a work of art. In my eyes, he is perfection. He and Eleanor generally aren't seen together. Most girls want to be with Finn, but no one would let Eleanor see that. I am definitely one of those people. Eleanor hates me, I hate Eleanor. I like Finn, Eleanor doesn't like Finn, Finn ignores Eleanor and is oblivious to me.
Everything started two months after high school did. I was just walking. I walked through the front doors and onto the field. There was a large oak tree with plenty of shade to sit under. So I went over, sat down opened my book. Then she walked over. She ran around the tree and collapsed onto the grass. I'm not sure if she even knew I was there, but I heard crying. As any normal person would I poked my head around to see if she was okay. It later turned out that her 'first love' 'broke her heart'. But at the time I didn't see her as a pathetic drama queen, I saw her as a hurt girl crying under a large oak tree. So I asked what was wrong. She looked at me quizzically, then her expression turned sour. "Nothing! You're what's wrong. You're too ugly. Leave me alone," she screeched.
"Excuse me?" I backed off a little, cowering back behind the tree. She continued to stare at me, trying to look threatening. I could see through it, and she could see that I could see through it. So she picked herself up and pushed me down. And I let her. If I had stood up, told her I was sorry and left her alone then the next three years would have been very different. But I let her. Since then I've continued to let her. So has everyone else. Most have even encouraged her. High school is stressful, and taking it out on me makes them feel better. No one is the bully anymore, they're all just mindless puppets playing into Eleanor's pretty little hands. So no one gets told off.
Over the years I've grown numb to their words. It's almost a game. 'Which Insult Will I Be Called Most Today.' Egg (Eliza Grace Gatsby), Red (because of my hair) or ginger slut. Egg I don't mind because that's what my playschool friends used to call me, Red is a kind of cute nickname, and ginger slut is so unoriginal it's funny. The teachers pretend to be oblivious and call me Egg when calling out the role. I used to take it to heart, and go home crying, but now I don't really care. People notice me, not in a good way, but they do. Whenever I walk into a room, people look. Eleanor and I are the only two people in school who get that kind of attention. Often I get called ugly, but if I was really that ugly, no one would want to look.
My parents don't like me, and put into dance classes of every kind just to keep me away (I'm not kidding, Monday I have ballet, Tuesday contemporary, Wednesday hip-hop, Thursday salsa, Friday ballroom, and Sunday morning I have gymnastics). They love my younger brother Timmy, and I think they like to pretend he's their only child. I have my own car, a suitcase, a passport I rarely use, and two hundred dollars in my account each month that I have nothing to spend on. It's almost as if they want me to run away. I don't for one reason and one reason only. To spite them. I like returning and feeling their happiness rush out the door as I walk in. I used to take my dinner to my room, but now I eat at the table to bathe in the tension.
My 'relationship' with my parents is basically non-existent except for on special occasions. Not the special occasions you're thinking of, Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries and so on. Our special occasions are richer than that. My dad is a businessman who manages one company and owns another. He gets paid as easily as I get insulted. Both businesses are chains that run across the whole of America and one has a branch in London. Dad owns Gatsby Finances -it is how it sounds- and manages Freme -a 'freedom firm' that is like a police station, a charity, a company, a bank and a law firm. People travel all over the country for special occasions all year round. It is at these special occasions that my parents and I have a relationship. I could easily ruin their reputation by being a total arse, but then I'd ruin mine too. So they're kind and understanding and I'm polite and well mannered. Timmy doesn't quite understand how the tension of the car ride evaporates the moment the doors open. But he goes along with it without questions. Sometimes Mum makes me practice my posture, grammar and manners. I used to hate it, but now it's just another part of life. So every now and then Mum drops three books on my head and sits back to study my every breath, and I don't question a thing.
The only glimmer of light in my world is Hazel. She has been my best friend for over a year now. I was ditching class to avoid Eleanor when I saw Hazel crying in the hallway. Of course after what happened with Eleanor I was reluctant to talk to her. But I did. She looked so broken. I sat beside her and waited. When she could talk I asked what was wrong. She was new and couldn't find her class. People had stolen her books, timetable and told her to go back to whatever hole she crawled out of. It was Eleanor. That's what we bonded over and now we struggle on together. We hold each other up and keep each other moving forward. I'm sure neither of us would be here if it weren't for one another. We rely on one another. But we also like the same music, enjoy similar things, and are different enough to bring out new things in each other. It's a perfect friendship.
That pretty much sums up my life. Head up, faking, pretending, not questioning. Fun times, right?
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A/N
Sorry this wasn't very good. I have a lot of ideas and I can't get them down and yeah. That's Eliza at the sidebar.
Thanks for reading :]
Rated PG-13 for naughty words.
Bad Noodle xx
