yellow.

chapter one.

                        My name is Medow Mace. Its supposed to be spelled Meadow, but my parents spelled my name wrong on my birth certificate. I could spell it normally but I decided not to. I like it like that. I like to be unique, even if it is just a spelling error. My whole family has fun names, starting with my grandma, Indigo Matthew. Her mother's name was Emily Jones. A very basic name and she hated it. She decided she was going to give her daughter or son the most unique and beautiful name she could find. And she did. And ever since then it had been a rule in our family that we all get unique names. The way you judged if it was unique is if you have only heard it twice before in your life. If not then you cant use it. No exceptions. My mom's name is Crimson, and her sister's name is River. My sister's name is Frida, my brother's name is Ansel. Lastly, of course, is me, Medow. I'm where they left off. Until next May, when my aunt River has her baby son. That is in five months, and I wait to find out what they name him. That is the least eventful thing going on in my life at the moment though because as of I will be living in a new house and going to a new school. I am aware that it's not that big of a deal, a lot of people move schools and it doesn't make me special or anything, but I'm still not looking forward to it. I still haven't decided if having a clean slate is a good or bad thing, but until then we are going to look on the bright side and say good. I like looking on the bright side of everything. It keeps me calm throughout my mental breakdowns. I may only be in middle school but I still go through a frick ton of bad stuff. Middle school is where people decide who they are going to be. I still d0nt know who I am, but that's okay. Because, its okay, to not be okay. I tried telling myself that as I entered my new school. I was most definitely not okay. The voice in my head that screams at me things I can't understand was back in my head. Sage is what I called her, and she came when I didn't want her there. She made it hard to focus, hard to socialize, and hard to stand still. I looked down at my yellow nails and felt a slight wave of comfort come over me, if only for a second. Yellow is my happy place. When I look at yellow, it makes me happy, that is why I must always have my nails painted yellow. But the wave of happiness quickly went away and I could hear Sage having a breakdown in my own head. As I walked into the main office, Sage was out of control, so I quickly grabbed my face and rubbed my eyes, gaining a weird stare from the girl coming into school late. I told my self I didn't mind, but I knew I did. So did everyone else that said they didn't care, they all do. That's what sent Sage tripping over the edge, and just as I was about to rip my schedule in my hands, I decided to ask to go to the bathroom. The secretary asked if the late girl could show me where it was, even after she repeated the directions multiple times. The late girl brought me down a hallway and past a few classrooms and motivational posters until we reached a room that said girls bathroom, then we kept walking. Being too nervous to ask why I just followed. We went up a staircase until we were by another bathroom. As I was about to ask her why we were at this bathroom she said, "the other bathroom is disgusting, only has one working sink, and two of the stalls don't lock. Your welcome." And then she left. Even though I probably needed help getting back I decided to just let her go. She seemed like the kind of girl who just wants to be left alone and not be bothered by other peoples problems. Mostly because she has too many of her own. I did realize I didn't know her name, so I was set on just calling her late girl. Then I went into the bathroom and didn't even notice I forgot all about Sage and my schedule ripping. I walked up to the sink and splashed my face with cold water, dried it, then exited it. Surprisingly I managed not to get lost, and successfully back to the main office. My mom was still waiting for me, but she was ready to say goodbye. She gave me a hug, wished me luck, said she loves me, and to my surprise slipped me a note. I didn't read it until after she left because I knew that probably what she intended. I watched from the window as she drove away, even though I heard a voice calling me.