𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 | billie eilish

007

monday - september 14, 2020

𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐨'𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥
𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟑𝟏, 𝟑:𝟏𝟓𝐩𝐦
𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬

"Billie," my mom shouts my first name through the thin walls of our house.

The usage of her loud voice wasn't even necessarily needed, since only a couple of feet separate our bodies but she evidently forgot about that.

I push back the squeaking chair I've been sitting on and rise from it at a leisure pace, then sluggishly approach her from behind in the kitchen.

"I'm right here, Mom," I inform her as I lay my hands on her shoulders. For a moment she flinches at my unforeseen touch, presumably also at the somewhat raspy undertone in my voice.

"Oh, sorry," she apologizes quickly and turns around to me, scanning my body from bottom to top. Her eyes obviously get stuck at the sight of the many chains dangling around my neck. "Don't you think that a few less necklaces would be more appropriate?"

"No, why?" I respond frankly and expect a well-worded, detailed explanation to her question, which is presumptively supposed to represent an indirect demand.

"Because you're going to meet your principal," she declares with a straight face. Not even her eyebrow twitches, not a subtle smile seems like it'll tug at her lips within the next five seconds and eventually cause them to curl upward and spread sympathy.

"I know, what about it? Why should I dress or act different just because of someone who's human just like us?" I counter, principally wanting her to name further reasons why a certain someone should be bothered by the way I prefer wearing accessories.

"Schools have their rules, Billie. And you're gonna have to learn and follow them as a student," my mother retorts and sighs deeply. A tad of obvious annoyance is detectable as the stern words leave her lips.

"Sure, 'cause they're gonna give a fuck about my jewelry. Also, there's no dress code, Zoe told me that," I state and turn away, my back facing her as I step out of the kitchen.

"Whatever, discussing's not worth it." She exhales loudly on purpose and adds two more things. "If you don't think that three necklaces will do their job, fine. We have to be at your school in fifteen minutes. Are you ready to go?"

"Two minutes," I huff and disappear behind the wooden door of my bedroom.

My room is not perfectly clean but it isn't particularly messy either. Mom thinks I must be drowning in piles of clothes, gum wrappers, and a variety of cables for my phone and MacBook by now, when in reality there's only a t-shirt plus a pair of shorts kicked under the frame of my bed and two unfilled water bottles lying on the floor.

I wonder why parents always exaggerate things to the possibly highest reachable maximum. They persistently make you feel bad about yourself, no matter what, am I right?

I stand in front of the mirror and glare at the outfit I'm wearing, pondering over whether I should follow my mom's advice or should let my instinct lead me. What if my mother is correct and I am, indeed, overdressed?

My bottom lip has to suffer from being dragged into my mouth by my front teeth over and over. Does my shirt's shade of blue match my hair nuance?