Call Me Ashleigh

Chapter 19:

CHAPTER 19:

Gunshots echoed throughout the room as man after man collapsed dead onto the blood-stained ground. Screams could be heard everywhere, as men, women and children alike ran for their lives. My father and I sat on the couch together, casually watching the gruesome scene presented to us on the television screen.

My face was blank, as usual.

Another guy got shot down, and my dad winced. But my face remained the same - expressionless.

At that moment, Felicitie emerged from the bedroom we (unfortunately) shared, armed with a set of clean clothes and her towel.

"Da!" she exclaimed. "What is that?! Turn it off, it's so scary! What do you watch it for?"

My father and I both turned around simultaneously. I wasn't sure which 'Da' she was referring to, since 'Da' was not only her short form for 'Dad', but for 'Freda' too.

"Because it's interesting." my dad answered, turning back to the television.

"Because it's fun to watch people die." I said sadistically.

Fel scrunched up her face in disgust. "Eee-yucks. I'm gonna shower."

With that, she stepped daintily into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

I refocused my attention on the movie.

"Argh!" the main character shouted in pain, as a bullet went through his arm. He fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding arm.

"Dang it!" my dad exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Stupid chap shoulda looked behind, man!"

I shot him a reproachful look. Swearing, or anything close, wasn't allowed. I didn't like it, and neither did my mother.

"What?" my father raised his hands defensively. "That's not a swear word."

I was just about to argue, when my mother, who was nearby but not watching the movie, did the job for me.

"Robert..." she warned. "Teach your children good principles. Set a good role model, dear."

Triumphant, I gave my father the 'See?' look. In response, he flopped dejectedly, frowning slightly at me.

A gazillion other guys got killed, and some kid got blown up. My mother said, "Maybe you should turn it off, Robert? It is a little... violent."

But I felt nothing. No pity, no emotion. Not when a mother witnessed her precious baby being killed, not when a man fought so hard to survive but still died...

No emotion, no empathy. That's what my mother says of me. But I know she's wrong, because I still feel. Not in everything, but in some things.

The screen went black as my father pressed the button. He got up and went to his room, leaving me sitting all alone on the couch.

What if I died today?

What would I regret, what would I wish I had done?

What would people remember, what would I have to leave behind?

What should I do?

~~~~~~~~~

Lindy, Joanna, Gracie, Annette, Sarah and I sat at a table together at the canteen, gobbling down our recess food.

"Well would ya look who's here." Lindy mumbled under her breath, softly, but loud enough for me to hear.

I looked up to see The Clique strutting in, as if they owned the place.

Amanda stood out.

Actually, it was probably just me.

She had her arm slung over her friend Brenda's shoulder, and Brenda was laughing about something I would probably never know.

I stared shamelessly at them from behind my bowl of noodles, frozen. I longed so much to be among them. Nothing could express just how much I wanted to be with Amanda. I missed her so much, even though she was in the same building as I was. We were just so distant.

Joanna tapped me. "You okay?"

They all knew. These girls were my closest friends, but yet, not very close.

From young, they had been a group of friends, very much like Amanda's clique except probably, less cliquish. But this year, I had joined.

They were the best friends I had, but yet I wasn't fully comfortable.

They all were okay with me liking Amanda, more or less. Lindy thought I was ridiculous, and Gracie was conservative and uncomfortable with anything even bordering on homosexuality, but they all accepted me.

My friends were amazing, I was decently well-off, things in my life were generally okay...

But I just wished to be normal. With a regular best friend or two, who I could completely be myself around. To be normal without a horribly crooked spine and flatfeet, with constantly dislocating shoulders and overall physical weakness. To be like any other girl and not have ADD or Asperger's Syndrome, and always having to go for therapy and counselling. To be normal, and have a regular crush. To be normal, and not always be an embarrassment and a clumsy walking disaster.

Just to be like everyone else, just to fully fit in.

I snapped back into focus. The girls had moved on and were talking about celebrity crushes. They went on and on about some dude's gorgeous hair, his dreamy eyes, and even this thing called abs, whatever they were...

Hair was hair. Eyes were eyes. And when I asked Jo what abs were, she said they were stomach muscles.

No big deal. Even though my stomach is mainly fat, I'm pretty sure I have at least a couple of muscles somewhere.

Amanda liked those things called abs too. She liked guys a lot.

I guessed that meant she wouldn't ever like me.

~~~~~~~~~~