Amber

(2) Nerd

"Thank you." The voice said after both of us had ended our crying session.

Till that time, I had already been accustomed to talking to the oak tree. I still hesitated and asked, "Who are you?"

"My name is Ivy. Thank you for comforting me. You're a nice girl." she said, her voice gaining normal composure.

The word 'nice' hit me. The last time I heard it was from my mum. How foolish she was, to assume my dumb self as nice.

"You're a t-tree?" I asked. It all seemed like a fairlytale.

"Yes I am, an oak tree. 50 years old. I feel your lashes, they're pretty."

"W-what? Are you kidding me? H-how can you see? I mean, you can't have eyes, uhh" I stuttered.
I was surely dreaming.
I slapped myself.
It hurt.

I wondered if people could feel physical pain in a dream.

"We feel everything around us. We too have souls," she said, confidence evident in her voice. "I know you, dear. For we plants can feel far more than anyone else."

She stopped for a while. I just stood there, dumbfounded. She then said, "And no, I don't think we feel physical pain in a dream."

My head started spinning. She was reading my mind. Surely, all the people in the party were right yesterday. I am a bookworm, caught up in my own imagination. I was turning crazier everyday.

And now, this.

I couldn't bear this new discovery. So I ran. I ran till I reached home. That's just like me. Always running from problems and cribbing over them when they don't get solved. I am a 'fraidy bitch, as the school bullies call me. I know I am one. I ran off to my Grandma, away from this menacing forest or the ghost of this girl trapped in a tree pretending to be one.

•••

"What happened sweetie? You look tired. How was the party yesterday?" Grandma asked, her voice full of love and endearment as always.

I had been carrying a lump in my throat since so long. It was enough now. I desperately needed to cry in my grandma's arms to let everything out. But things were different now. After mom and dad passed away in an accident, she was working so hard to make ends meet. I couldn't burden her with any more problems of mine.

Besides, I had already turned 14, and could handle these strains on my own.

I jovially replied, "It was great, grandma! We danced so much that my back hurts. I must go to my room now."

It's really a matter of pride when you're hiding your real emotions but there's not a hint of artificiality in your voice.

Pacing towards my room, I felt my heart race. I rarely lied to Grandma, in fact I found it difficult to lie to anyone.

I entered my neatly arranged room. Messy things are always beautiful, they say. But I have a habit of making things as arranged as possible. Maybe this is why people never call me a beautiful soul.

Anyway, I glanced at the mirror beside my bed. It was probably the self-obssession of a teenager that caused me to look at myself for a long time.

I'd inherited big amber eyes from my mother. Such a beauty she was! Everything from her perfectly curled hair to the mole on her chin was beautiful, she was the ideal woman anyone would look up to.

Apart from our eyes and long lashes, I and mum had nothing in common. I had long, frizzy hair hanging down till my hips. Mum had smooth hair with each strand standing perfectly. I always wanted to cut my hair short or even turn bald, but could never do so because Grandma always insisted on keeping them the way they were.

The most annoying part about myself is the brown complexion. It's really odd to have a dark complexion when both your parents are fair.

So far I've tried so many skincare hacks but trust me, none of them works if you're born that way.

It was my this dark complexion that almost made me cry in Tina's party yesternight. That bully Joseph just like everytime, started making fun of my high-pitched voice and then I became the easy-target for pranks and insults of every guest in the party.

I'm tired of talking shit. I want to be filled with positivity and internal satisfaction like mum, but fail miserably each time I try to smile. She loved herself and her life to the fullest, but I barely know myself.

I barely smile, barely laugh and barely find myself worth of anyone's love.

At highschool, I'm called 'that brown girl'. I've told everyone so many times that I have a name and I'd love being called Amber instead. But everything's in vain. Things get even worse when Jared, my bestfriend is absent and I sit all alone in a corner, trying to hide myself from the school bullies.

It's weird, you know.

All my friends post lovely pictures of them on social media and I, I am called the 'nerd who never posts'.

People have even advised me to get a plastic surgery done. How does my face matter to them in any way? I'm tired and irritated at the same time. The only peaceful getway had been the forest, and that too is haunted by a ghost named Ivy now.

A/N:-
How's it till now? Amber finds it difficult to face herself, quite relatable to me.