stranded! [that 70's show]

one - personality crisis

I had lived in many towns before, from the humid, sticky tropics to the dry, scorching desert but never anywhere this cold.

I was copping the full brunt of the unfamiliar weather. I could feel my cheeks burning up, eyes watering and hands trembling with every second.

Wait. Was it really the cold, or just that teenage Addy was a nervous wreck?

See, when I was younger I dreaded social situations where I had to leave the ‘comfort zone’. Everyone I had encountered prior to moving here knew me as the shy, timid one who scarcely spoke a word. My mother blamed my disposition on my father’s job in the Defence Force, which required us to live a nomadic lifestyle. My father, in response to this, blamed it on how dependent I was on my twin brother Bernard. Claudine, my little sister, then blamed it on me, and how I was apparently too ‘stuck up’ to interact with others my age.

Looking back on it now, they were all correct to some degree.

Moving around never allowed Claudine, Bernard and I to make long lasting friendships. Tick.
I figured that since Bernard and I did everything together anyways, I wouldn’t need to socialise with other people. Tick. And since I’m a shy person, I didn’t try talking to other people unless they initiated the conversation. Tick.

My timid nature, coupled with my dependence on Bernard worked for years, right up until my father declared that we had to move to the United States. I wasn’t fazed by this news, until he said Bernard and I were to be split up for an indefinite amount of time. He’d help with the moving, and I’d try to get Mum and Claudine settled. I did not like the idea of separation at all. Without Bernard around to guide me, I felt like a helpless child. It was stupid, to be so socially dependent on one person, but I couldn’t help it. Now, it was one of those rare times I was on my own, and I just had to endure it in hopes that Bernard would come back. And that’s what led me to sitting alone in the Point Place High School cafeteria.

“I love your outfit! You look like a little schoolgirl!” A voice cooed behind me.

Yikes. She’s talking about me. Turning around, I saw a brunette who looked maybe a year or so younger than I was. It was obvious she was conscientious about her appearance, her clear olive skin shined, not one curl was out of place and her clothing was sleek and looked exorbitant. Compare this to me who wore at least four layers of plain clothing that day, whose hair was thick and frizzy and skin greasy and pale. Why did Jackie Burkhart ever talk to me on that day, I still have no clue.

“Hi,” I greeted. My voice spacey as ever. Soft and quiet, dragging out my vowels to an almost annoying level.  It was just another feature I hated about myself, many people believed I was ditzy and simple-minded.

“Are you the new girl from Austria?” She took a seat next to me. “I’m Jackie Burkhart.”

I looked down at my lap, nervous and at a loss for words, “I umm, I’m actually from Australia.”

“Your accent is so adorable, what’s your name?”

“Uhh, Adelaide Mackenzie. Some people call me-”

Jackie closed her eyes and zoned out, “Adelaide is such a romantic name.”

I was going to tell her that it really wasn't, and I was named this because Mum was homesick, but I decided against it. Instead of continuing the conversation, I scavenged through my bookbag in search for my tattered copy of Wuthering Heights.

“Adelaide!” Jackie, put out of the trance, glanced at my bag. “Where did you get that?”

“Well, um, I got this from a bookstore when I lived in-”