Chapter One:
She is getting an award, for what I am not really sure. He is sitting next to me and he smells like cinnamon buns and cheap after shave. I hate cinnamon buns, they are sticky and I hate the residue they leave on my fingers. I wipe my hands against my thighs, I can feel the sweet sticky mixture on my fingers and it is making me upset.
He pays no mind to my hands moving feverishly up and down my tight clad legs, why should he? He never notices me when she is around. No one does, I’m not bitter. I promise. I guess I just wish I was something more, more of what I don’t know but more of something.
My mother reaches over; she smells like my childhood, she is wearing the same perfume I thought smelled like angels wings and fairy dust when I was five. She grabs my hands and holds them lightly, I glance at her but she refuses to look back. Tonight is not about me, it is about her. My other half on the stage, accepting her award for most improved or something. I am not sure, I feel bad that I don’t know what she is winning but in all honesty it is not important to me.
My mother has cold hands and her rings are digging into my fingers, I glance around the sickly sweet smell of him intruding into my calm façade. I cannot explain the effect it has on me, my mouth is dry. My stomach is churning in revulsion and my breathing is shallow and painful. My mother continues to hold my hand and I cannot pull away despite the trapped feeling I experience. I need to get out, it is such a strong need that I can no longer ignore.
I rip my hands from my mother, she glances at me but I am scrambling, scrambling up and out of my seat. I trip on his feet but catch myself before I fall to my hands and knees. I try to be as inconspicuous as I can be, but people have seen. No one is paying attention to the girls on the stage; I am suddenly the only thing of interest.
My whole body flushes red with embarrassment and sorrow; I push open the double doors of the auditorium theatre we are seated in. I look left and right looking for the beautiful green sign indicating an exit, an escape.
I fall out the doors and out to the parking lot, the sweet air smells like exhaust fumes and sweat but it is perfect. I hungrily gulp at it, my heart rate slowly decreasing; I rub my sweaty palms against my skirt hoping for a minute of peace. I had not meant to make a scene, I never do but sometimes everything gets too much and I can no longer sit and pretend that I am okay. I hope my sister will understand, I blink back tears as I think of her possible anger for me.
My feet carry me from the doors and away from the peering eyes of the few people escaping the stuffy room. I am no longer concealed by anonymity; I no longer can squeeze past people and get lost in the crowd. I am cursed with an infamous glow and a ton of stares. I curse myself and my sister, I had asked to stay home but she had begged, pleaded with me to come and I could not say no.
I lean against a wall taking no mind to the person a few feet away from me. I bend at the waist and count to thirty. Footsteps interrupt my process and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter hoping to will away the intruder.
Fifteen
, “What are you doing?”
Sixteen
, I ignore him and keep counting. I do not open my eyes or look at the boy with the familiar voice. He smells like liquorice and cigarettes, I wonder briefly who it is but do not bother looking.
Seventeen
, “What are you doing?” He repeats the silly question, and I continue to ignore him. His question hangs in the air for a good three seconds.
Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty
I crack the lid of my left eye open a millimetre and glance at the boy. He has short black hair and silver rings adorn his ears. He has chocolate covered skin and I feel pale in comparison.
