Step Brothers

|Chapter 2|

Tomorrow was soon enough. Yesterday had felt like an eternity, it always did. I wasn't too excited to leave, although I knew there was nothing I was leaving behind. The only thing I'd miss was my dance studio, a place I had found a few years back. I had fallen in love with it, and had gone there ever since, to forget all my problems.

I made my way to the mirror, I had already finished packing my belongings, all I had left was to dress up. I looked at my reflection, a short, ugly and fat girl looked back at me. I hated mirrors, I'd normally avoid them, but from time to time I felt the urge to look into them, to see if something had changed. It never did.

The only thing I was glad to have inherited was my mother's blonde hair. Although her hair was lustrous and smooth. Mine was lighter, a wheat blonde, and very long. I kept it as clean and tidy as possible, it was the only good thing about myself. My eyes were a dull brown, a very common color. My features resembled my father, a person I'd never met, but it was clear that I looked nothing like my pretty mother.

I kept my eyes on the reflection, looking at my body. My body was probably the thing I hated about myself the most. My flat chest made my stomach stick out more than it already did, I knew I was fat. My mom was thin and tall, she could be a model if she wanted, and yet I was fat and short. She never failed to remind me of it.

I started getting angry at myself, so I turned around. I couldn't stand looking in the mirror for such a long time and ended up in a very bad mood. Either angry or sad. And somehow, I hated that I wasn't able to be happy with myself. I'm trying. I knew, I knew more than anybody else that I was trying. And still, not even I could accept myself. No wonder nobody likes you, even you feel you're horrible.

I rubbed my eyes, I hated crying, yet it was the only thing I seemed to do right. I winced when my injured hand came in contact with my face. It wasn't broken, that much I knew. After all, I had already broken it a few times now. It still looked bad, blue and yellow bruises decorated my knuckles, it looked as though I had gotten into a fight. If my mother saw it she would be quick to accuse me of that.

I have to get it checked. I grabbed my clothes, I'd been thinking of what to wear all day long, yet nothing came to mind. I didn't own any pretty clothes, all of them were little on me and worn out. Exceptuating a dress I'd bought for a dance practice.

It was the only decent and pretty dress I had. So, to give a good impression, I decided to wear it. Even when it showed my thighs.

I walked into the bathroom, and took out my old pajamas. When I looked in the mirror again, I felt better. I felt pretty. It was not always that I got to see myself like this, so I stared at myself some more. I decided I'd let my hair down, that way I felt more confident. After all, my hair was the thing I loved the most about myself.

"Calla!" I quickly finished my business and came out of the room to meet my mother, whose eyes were on the phone. "Are you done? We have to get going." She didn't raise her eyes, not even once, to look at me.

"Yes mom, I'm done packing." I was about to go get my things when a question crossed my mind. "Um, mom?" She didn't reply, not even nodded in acknowledgement, "where are we moving to?" My mother hadn't told me anything about the man who was to become my father. Not where he lived, not about his personality, and much less if he had any kids.

"You'll know when we get there," she lifted her eyes and looked at me, her eyebrows suddenly furrowed and her mouth opened, "why are you wearing that? That dress makes you look fatter and plain." My face suddenly fell. I had always thought this dress looked good on me, I thought it made me look pretty.

Tears pooled in my eyes, I lowered my gaze so that my mother wouldn't see me crying. She hated when children cried. She'd told me countless times.

"Whatever, it's too late for you to change now, let's go," she dismissed the subject and walked away, as if she hadn't told her daughter that she looked fat.