Regrets||✓✓

13. 1.

People outside my family tell me I grew up too fast. I agree with them. Last year I was just thinking how my breasts would be if they finally took form and here I am now, staring at my breasts in my dressing mirror. They were round, ample and soft. They stood apart from each other but sat up firm and tight. And they were big. The boys in my grade would kill for breasts like these.

I take my gaze up from my breasts and stare at the black beauty staring back at me in the mirror. I have a few pimples, but I'm beautiful nonetheless. My brows are full and thick, and just like my hair, they refuse to be tamed. I make a mental note to shape them before school tomorrow. Big brown eyes that look black when I'm angry, a simple nose and my lips! oh my lips. I had full lips, with the upper lip smaller than the lower. They are sexy. The boys will die for this.

My door opens and shuts. I know it's my younger sister, Liberty. She is five years younger than me but I love her like she's my twin. We look a lot alike, and we're very close. She is smarter than most eight year olds in our neighborhood. Not minding that I am naked, she sits on my laps and smiles at me through the mirror. "You're very beautiful, Naija," she says, and I smile back at her. I know I am beautiful, but I want to feel it. I want the boys to look at me and idolize me. I want them to want me. "You're beautiful too, Libby," I say, and kiss her ear. She giggles.

"It's dinnertime. Let's go eat."

"What are we eating tonight?"

"Ma's vegetable soup and rice. And I'm hungry." She pats her stomach and licks her lips hungrily. I tell her to give me a few moments to dress and I'll join them downstairs. She smiles, kisses me on the cheek and leaves. I grab my blue pinafore and wear a black bra under it. It's just me, my sister and my parents at home. I could walk around naked if I wanted to. I use mascara and eyeliner and dab a little powder on my face. I inspect what I have done, I like it, and I go downstairs.

The dining table is quiet, save for the click of spoon against plate. As I sit Ma dishes my meal and I thank her. Less than ten seconds later my Mom pauses. She's staring at me. I stop eating. "Ma?"

"What'd you put on your face, child?"

"Just mascara, Ma."

"To dinner?" I nervously twist a lock of my hair in my fingers.

"I-" Liberty and Dad are watching us, pretending to eat.

"Wipe it off," she says, producing a wet wipe. "You're too young for all this, child, you a thirteen year old. Wait your turn." I collect the wipe from her and scowl as I do. I wipe it off- slowly, knowing that it will annoy her.

"What were you doing at thirteen, Ma? Probably rotting away in the cold with no roof on your head watching your friends wear makeup and put on nice clothes, weren't you?" My dad begins to cough. The attention turns to him as he quickly drinks water and now looks between the both of us. Ma looks pained.

"You watch your tongue with me, Naija, I can still hit you if you don't be careful!"

"Leave me alone!" I shout back and stomp out of the dining room. I go upstairs and slam my door hard enough to shake the walls, and flop face down on my bed. Ma doesn't understand. The other kids did it, and their Ma's helped them. But not this one. Not mine. She's depriving me of what she was deprived of in her youth.

Night falls. The door opens and shuts. "Naija?" I turn over and see Liberty, holding her hair brush. "Help me?" I can't say no to my sister. Not ever. I tell her to sit on the dressing chair and I go there to meet her. My brown eyes meet her green ones in the mirror as I help her brush the knots in her curly hair. "What you said to Ma was harsh, you know," she tells me softly. I know. But I was angry at her.