That Girl

Chapter 1

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The annoying sound of my alarm clock fills the hockey rink in my dream with an out of place beeping. At first, I think it's the buzzer but after a little, when the beeping doesn't go away, I am pulled back to the awful reality of semi-consciousness. After I turn off my alarm clock I flip over ready to go back to sleep and forget, only then does the sense of crippling realization set in--its Monday.

I groggily pull myself up from my bed and force myself to stand up, getting up in the morning is such a chore. Once I am out of bed and not in a state of half consciousness I get dressed in running clothes. I tiptoe downstairs past my dad who is passed out of the sofa, grab my shoes and head outside. Slipping in my Nike running shoes, I turn on Sippy Cup by Melanie Martinez and head down my road.

Since it is around six in the morning the sun is just rising and people are starting to come out onto the streets. I am starting to feel very uncomfortable and exposed in my sports bra and shorts. I quickly dispel the thought with the counter that I go for a run every day and I can outrun some stoned rapist then I should give up on sports. Feeling slightly more comforted I push through the rest of my run and by the time I get home it is only seven thirty. I tiptoe into the house but my dad is gone, so I walk normally up the stairs to get in the shower.

When I get out of the shower I am still thinking about completely random things so as I look in the mirror I see myself as Rihanna and start singing. When I reach the rap part in Love the Way You Lie I realize a few things;

First, I am nothing like Rihanna, being white and not looking like a total goddess, and I can't sing because when music wasn't optional in middle school and decided to play an instrument not do choir.

Second, when I try to rap it just sounds like a bunch of garbled words unlike when Eminem raps you can actually make out the different words.

Third and possibly most important, I am standing in a dirty bathroom butt naked, and using a pink camo hairbrush as a microphone. I look in the mirror thoughtfully, wondering pointlessly about the reactions of the people at my school if they saw me at this particular moment. Thinking about school finally brings me back to reality and I wander out of the bathroom and back to my room.

I look through my tiny closet and pull out a pair of black skinny jeans I found on sale outside of an outlet store at the mall. I also grab a plain navy tee and my black jacket. Pretty standard clothing if you ask me. This takes me about two minutes.

Other girls, *cough cough* Genevieve, get straight out of bed and spend a half hour picking out clothes and putting on makeup, not me. It takes me about that time just to gather the willpower to get up, then I actually have to get up, go for a run, take a shower then get dressed, so I have a simple wardrobe to for many reasons but partly to cut down on time picking an outfit.

After dressing, I head back to the bathroom in order to stare in the mirror at my reflection and wonder why I don't have guys lining up just to get the chance to talk to me, but also to go to the bathroom. After starring in the mirror for a full half hour at my plain brown hair and brown eyes and imagining having to beat guys back with a neon green fly swatter, I saunter down the stairs into the kitchen and sit down and take out my phone, only then realizing that it's 8:45. I have 15 minutes before school starts. Shit.

After grabbing my stuff, pedalling so fast in my bicycle I could participate in the Tour de France, I make it to school. Since I live about one mile from school this takes about three minutes, but all the paranoia about being late is thankfully gone. I lock my bike to the bike stand outside the school and then, after a long pause and a couple deep breaths, I wander into hell.

The defining sound of thousands of unrelated conversations hits my ears with the force of twenty fully loaded cement trucks. I let out a small sigh of relief, grateful that everything is normal. After grabbing my language arts and history stuff, I search the crowded halls for the streak of black that is the back of my best friends head.