The Girl with the Dream Catcher Earring

Should I tie my hair? Or let it be?

Maybe I should tuck it behind my ears.

Nah. My dull brown hair still looks dull as always.

I reach for my bag pack resting at the foot of my bed and snatch my new lip gloss hiding in my pencil case. 

Hmm… Cherry red.

I spread the gooey gloss across my thin lips, the rich smell of cherries and frolic filling my nose. I almost sneeze at the strange smell.

My lips look wider and shiny, like its desperately begging for attention. I suddenly feel ashamed and wipe the gloss on my jacket. It left a reddish stain.

I grab my bag, flatten my hair and stare at myself at the mirror for the last time.

Gray jacket. Blue worn-out jeans. Flat nose. Pinkish lips. Gigantic eyes. Long boring brown hair.

Yup. I look awesome! (Note the sarcasm).

I dash out of the door, “Bye Mom!” I scream,

“Yeah!” She peeks through the bathroom door, “Take care Hon….”

I walk through the bus, desperate not to make eye contact with anyone, someone laughs, my eyes divert from the floor and looks at the guy who ruined my concentration. Then everything happens so fast. A spitball lands on my shoulder. The jerks laugh, their adam’s apple bobbing up and down. The nerds look at me with pity, the whores with tiny shorts and tiny waists gaze at me with disdain. I sit at one of the empty chairs and tried not to make eye contact….again.

***

“Yo Annie!” Zoey waves at me from the fountain, her perfect legs crossed, her white arms bare. She’s wearing the same lip gloss but it looks so good on her. But why did it look so alien on my face?

“Hey Zoe.” I sit beside her. Today her blonde hair is tied into a messy braid. Beautiful.

“How was  this morning’s bus ride?” She asks.

“I tried to be invisible but failed miserably.” I say flatly. I shudder at the sheer memory of the spitball on my shoulder. Fvck.

 “Don’t let it get to you. C’mon let’s go to class.” She stands up and I trail behind her. We are both bookaholics but she is undeniably pretty and chic for a geek (compared to me). But I have long detached myself from the idea that I might be as pretty as her so I don't envy her or something.

Okay, maybe just a little.

There are different kinds of animals in school. Brainless and horny jocks doing idiotic stuff like measuring dicks. Emo people with their piercings. Nerds trying to be Jimmy Neutron. I gaze at the flirty girls chatting along the corridor, their skirts fluttering. “How can they be comfortable wearing skirts?” I ask Zoey. “Are they not aware they are being peeked at?”

“That’s the point Ann. They love the attention.” She answers. “And the fact that boys are drooling over them.” She adds as we walk pass them, the wings of their eyeliners perfectly even (It’s a girl thing).

“Oh.” It was all I can manage.

Zoey and I are classmates in most of our classes so we hang out together a lot. Not to be a heartless braniac, but the advantages of being with her is I can sit where she sits at lunch. I mean I don’t have to hide in the rest rooms and eat there. Also, I don’t have to avoid eye contact. Being with her is sort of my rite of passage to being an actual human. But there are also disadvantages. One of these is that we are compared. I know that she’s a lot better, but they don’t have to rub it on my face.