The Ugly

Prologue

To my people, I am ugly. They never said it to my face, at least when I was young. However, it didn't mean they didn't show it.

From the age of three, I would notice the looks they would give me, looks of hatred, looks of disgust. When I reached eight, I realized, I didn't look like all the other girls and boys. My nose was small and button like, they however had long big, sometimes pointy sometimes blunt noses. They were beautiful. Warts were placed around their faces like a child's dot-to-dot picture. The girls had small facial hair on their upper lips, which made the boys go 'gaga' over. The only facial hair I had were my eyebrows, eyelashes and my short side burns. Yet, I was still ugly.

I had no friends because the adults told their children not to talk to the ugly girl. Sometimes, I fear I'm the reason my dad has no friends as well. I had overheard a group of parents once, whilst at a movie theatre with my dad, saying that he was 'The guy that fell in love with the ugly'; at my age (ten) I had no idea what they meant.

When we got home that evening, I asked my dad "Daddy was Mommy ugly." I'm sure you're wondering, how a child would deduce that from the few words they heard. Quite simply actually. Since being a baby, my Dad had put me to bed, telling me stories about my Mom and how much he 'loved' her, you see. He said he loved me too, but a different kind of love. From all the movies, I've seen that you fall in love with the person you want to marry, or be with forever.

Sadly my mom wasn't with us forever. They were waiting right outside the emergency room to kill her. They were just waiting for her to finish giving birth to 'their' citizen of Beautyville. It's not actually called that, I just felt that should be the name as a child.

See, in the world there is 'my' people: the beautiful people, and then, there are The Others. The Others are much uglier than us, well as ugly as me apparently. They have faces round and big, noses that are small and eyes hanging out from their faces. However, if they are ugly and I am ugly (according to the people), how come I don't look like my thirrd Grade teacher describes them. A question that'll never be answered.

As I was saying, we don't venture into the land of the others and they don't come into ours. Well, that was the rule. My parents broke that rule. My mother was an Other. Her curiosity got the better of her one day and she decided to try and enter this half of the world. Well, like I said previously, in the long run it didn't end so well for her (you know, the bit about labor and shooting). Anyway, when she made it, she met my father and they fell in love, blah blah blah. I'm sure you've all heard of Romeo and Juliet, apart from the fact my parents aren't that stupid, especially when there was now a child in the mix. That's me (That's So Raven, It's the future I can see, Tha... Sorry).

Luna Brown, AKA: The daughter of The Other, The half Other or Button nose. You see, the last one you may not find offensive, because I've read in the world you live in people want that. However, when children use it so often, in a spiteful way, it can be the cruelest saying.

My father did well as a single man, He did a good job at getting me from infancy to these late teenage years I'm currently in. Not once did I complain, not that I should have. I was not an easy child. Due to the fact I took my mother's looks, I had always blamed my father for falling in love with an Other. It got

worse when I hit my teens. From keeping my feelings, I went on to express them to my Dad in a way to hurt him. Every time someone looked at me with a disgusted expression, I would whisper "I hope you're happy!" or "I hope you know that everything that happens to me is your fault." I didn't mean it. Well, I didn't mean all of it. I mean, I blamed him a little but I suppose I was just looking for someone to blame, seeing as it was nobody's fault. It was just easier that way.

You'd think my people would have gotten used to my Other face by now considering I have lived here for all the seventeen years of my life. Shame the only problem is, they don't. Don't even get me started on my eighteenth birthday. Anyone would think I would be excited, but I'm not. My dad's excited, but I'm not. He is the only one who cares, to be honest.

Once I turn eighteen, on that exact date (8th July) I have to start work. 'Normal' children get to start a week after, but considering I'm not 'normal' (with a face like mine 'flicks hair') I start when I'm told. Nobody wanted to accept the Other Girl into their practices, firms. Offices, etc. but they had to. It is law that all eighteen year olds and over must have an occupation. So, they forced a law firm to take me as an assistant. My dad was so happy.

So, it is currently the night of the 7th. I lay awake, unable to sleep, dreading leaving the house and entering an environment with colleagues and other people who think I'm strange and ugly. Work as a team, wish I knew what that was like (teachers allowed children to not work with me if they felt uncomfortable. In other words, the only person I've ever worked with is my father, and as bad as the truth sounds, the only reason he does is because he's stuck with me). I doubt others would be as 'nice' if they were now forced to work with the Other girl.

I suppose there is nothing I can do. There is no point losing sleep over something like work. As that though left my mind, my eyes suddenly felt heavy, and before I knew it I was asleep.