Crooked Smile (WINNER of the MJFA'S 2017)

Chapter 1 - Marilyn

"Sometimes a young lady's physical beauty can by no means outshine the inner beauty that radiates from her heart and spirit." ~ Michael Jackson, 1976

Chapter 1 — Marilyn

"Now, look at that!" Brian crowed.
"Yes, you know, once there was this very unpopular girl..." Peter said.
"... and so she thought she could buy pretty," Thomas continued.
"So she bought herself a dress just like Sarah." That was Peter again.
"And a purse like Jenny!" Was it Brian? Marilyn wasn't sure. The voice came thick and fast in his excitement.
"And a jacket like Melissa!" Phil joined in.
"Marilyn had that jacket before I bought mine," said Melissa, not looking up from the homework she was trying to finish before the teacher returned, and went unnoticed. This was not about truth.
"And did you see her shoes?"
"Just like Daisy's!"
"How stupid!"
"Yeah! How stupid! Stupid Edmond. Thinks she can buy popularity. You can stop that now, stupid Edmond. Ugly-Edmond! No one likes you! Stop dressing up. Stop copying pretty girls. They don't deserve being copied by you!"

Marilyn Edmond put her head down on the table as they continued with her bookbag, the pants she had worn yesterday and the way her hair was permed. In the darkness of her folded arms she pretended she wasn't there. They couldn't get to her. Her body was a shell, a robot. She was the little pilot sitting in the back of her head, looking out at the world through two long, dark tunnels that were her eyes. They could bump into the robot-shell, but they couldn't get to the pilot. They couldn't get to her.

There was no doing right for Marilyn. If her clothes weren't in fashion, she was laughed at. If she dressed by the fashion, she was accused of copying other girls. She just couldn't do right.

She was tired, too. Lately, she didn't sleep well. This treatment had been going on for a long time — years now —, and it was starting to get to her. When she came home from school in the afternoon, it used to take her a while to shake it all off. Over the years, that while had become hours in which her classmates' voices haunted her. Now, being in 11th grade, it had finally started to follow her into her dreams. Also, sleeping seemed to bring morning on faster, and as a result her body clung to her awake state, leaving her weary and even less resistant to mental assaults.

Someone bumped into her desk so hard that Marilyn thought it would fall over and take her with it. Shocked, she looked around her.

"Oh, ugly-Edmond, was that your desk? You're so ugly, I just didn't see you. Can you imagine that? I guess, that's some way for my poor eyes to protect me. Having to look at you every day is a real torture. You know what?" here Brian came threateningly close to Marilyn's face, leaning on her desk and the back of her chair and making it impossible for her to get up, "That dress doesn't suit you. I can't believe you left the house in it. Don't you have a mirror? Oh, wait, if you'd look in the mirror you could never leave the house!" He sniffed. "And by the way, you stink."

"Well, you shouldn't come so close, then," Marilyn said, shoving him off.

"Argh!" he whined, displaying disgust, "Ugly-Edmond touched me! Yuk! Ugh! I'm sure to get warts now!"

"Don't you feel stupid?" Marilyn asked, but it didn't have the desired effect.

"Ugh! Now she's talking to me, too! I need to report sick! Get me an ambulance, I'm dying!"

At that moment, the door clicked. The class fell silent immediately, everyone slipped into their seats, and when the teacher entered his room, he found nothing out of the ordinary, just orderly and politely waiting students.

As Mr. Smith started his lesson on Shakespeare's use of puns and other rhetorical figures, Marilyn quietly moved her feet back, so she could look at her shoes under the desk. They were brown with yellow clasps. She hadn't noticed that Daisy had shoes like these. But then, she probably did. They were in fashion...