Daya

1| Meet Daya

I CARE ABOUT MY HAIR WAY TOO MUCH. I care about getting my damaged 4c curls into a bunch of braids that I will have to take out 2 months later. I care about sitting in my step mom Kayla's salon chair for 8 hours so there will be braids to cover my five head. I especially care about how bad I feel when my dad spends $35 on packs of yaki hair.

I only stop caring about how much I care and how vain I am when I look in the mirror and am I'm impressed with how deceiving and good my "hair" looks. I stop caring about how I'm worrying about the wrong things when some girl in brandy Melville clothing ask if it would be cultural appropriation if she got the same time consuming braids as me. I stop caring about all the things I could be doing in those 8 hours when I feel somewhat on the same level as the girls with perfect 3a long curls that are the reason people fetishize mixed children.

Don't get me wrong there is a big group of girls at my school with no cream who have the hair that Ramona from Ramona and Beezus would pull.

I don't feel on the same level as all of them because I still think to myself I wouldn't be caring so much about what's on my head if I had the long bouncing curls. Like my brother Vince's best friend and now girlfriend Vicki Prevez, who is really perfect. From her big poofy hair that she's never straightened which explains why it's almost to her waist.

Really now that I think about it that's the only reason I find her so perfect because ever since I lost 20-30 pounds and some body dysmorphia at the end of 8th grade we've had the same hourglass resembling body type. She enhances hers more by wearing body hugging clothing from fashion nova while I do quite the opposite and wear wide legged pants and graphic tees.

Even now as her hair is slicked into a huge bun and she dumps crumbs of hot cheetos into her mouth two tables away in the crowded patio she is still one of the most beautiful girls in this school.

Before she sees my stare I stop looking at her knowing she'll feel the need to invite me to sit with her and Vince who doesn't want me to interrupt as he basks in the glory of being the senior quarterback who's going to lead his team to victory against Dorsey tonight. It's like this every friday there's a home game which just turns into a social event where I'm sure a good 75% of the hookups between us horny teens happen.

Just to show off the whole team wears blue sweaters with "Marina High School Football," written on them. The sweaters only look good on buff players like Vince though while they fit awkwardly on the linemen like Joey who is scarfing down a pizza.

"Daya!" Someone screams as I start walking to my locker. I turn around to see Harper Falims also known as the rich girl I've known all my life because are parents are weirdly friends. In elementary school we'd hang out because we wanted to, in middle school we hung out because no one wanted to hang out with us, now we just hang out every once and awhile because we have to remember are parents are still friends.

"Hey Harper," I say hesitantly. Like always she has this big smile on her face, that is enhanced by the sun.

"So it's a three day weekend! Are you excited?" She nudges my arm. Shit I forgot about that , probably because it's just a random no pupil day and not an actual holiday.

"Yeah you?"

"Yes I am very excited because we're having a family brunch on Sunday and you're invited." I knew she just didn't want to talk to me. I don't have any excuse not to go, my mom is in New York for work so I'm with my dad for the weekend who would love for me to socialize.

For the next couple of minutes Harper goes on about how much she loves brunch food, which leads her somehow to talking about my 1 year old half sister Sawyer and how cute she is.

Sawyer is adorable though with her little curly hair thats always in 3 tiny poofs. She's cute enough to make you forget your parents abruptly split up when you were 9, and your dad found another women who was younger and lighter than your lonely mother.

Finally she concludes and skips off by saying my family is always welcome at her house in 200 words before I can object to spending my Sunday morning at her house. Really I love Harper's house not because it's big, well mostly because it's big, but really it's just the luxury amount of space. Also my family well really my dad loves the decadent leftovers I always come with, last time it was a pot pie and Harper's mom practically left me with the whole thing.

I get to my locker which is in the back of the school and in the worst place possible. All the couples who want to make out and don't want to walk around talking all don't eat lunch are here, and not to mention my locker is 2 feet away from the boys bathroom. Every now and then I tell a guy his fly is down when I'm getting my books.

"Oh god you're so cute," one of the freshmen guys says filling up his girlfriend who is not that cute. Do their parents know they spend 30 minutes groping each other instead of reading the notes they pack in their lunches. My dad always tells Vince, my 10 year old sister Dani, and I that the reason we don't have a note in our lunch that says he loves us is because we have food to prove that.

"Get a room," I mutter a little too loudly. Usually I'd say it to myself, but today is just an off day It probably has something to do with my fly being open for 10 minutes in first period. Lucky for me I sit in the back and I noticed before I went up to get a calculator.

The guy quickly moves his sweaty hands from the back of the girl's lululemon leggings and turns to look at me. The girl finally pulls her eyes off of the guy's curly sandy hair and joins him in giving me a disgusted look like I'm the one making out right across from where I take Cornell notes. They scurry off to find another spot to make out, laughing and touching like they'll be together forever.

Of course they get replaced by a bunch of other couples who are strutting down the halls not looking at what's ahead of them, figuratively and literally. I guess it's getting cold so cuffing season is coming early, and that's why everyone feels the need link arms with someone. Then again homecoming is coming up in like 2 weeks or so, so maybe the linking arms is just preparation for dancing together on the patio.

One couple in particular catches my eye as they walk down the hall together making me stop chewing on my dried mango, and hope they don't catch my stare.
Laia and Chase, Laia one of the girls who may be prettier than Vicki and Chase the wide receiver and hottest guy on the football team.

Laia whatever her last name is, she's part of that group who make people point and say dumb bullshit like, "I want to have mixed kids and end racism." Her light skin and smooth light brown curls may be the reason America puts her on top of Vicki, but it's not mine my reason is Chase. He's in that same group as Laia but his skin is more caramel, not that I look at it because he's on the field every day slapping my brothers butt, and Laia shares Vicki's large bottle of eco jell in the bathroom. If that weren't the case I would totally take long stares at his chiseled jawline when I'm working out on the bleachers with Vicki, who really doesn't work out and just sits on her phone.

They have to be the only couple that doesn't make me want to throw up, and instead makes me jealous and oddly makes me want to have a boyfriend of my own who can look at me like I'm the best thing in the entire world. The last person to look at me like that was a girl in my world history class begging to see the notes we had a week notice to take.

"That bitch is fucking lucky", I say out loud as Chase and Laia turn down the second hallway. Some freshmen boy gives me a weird look as him and his friends head into the bathroom, which is justified I am just standing by my locker staring at people.