Unwanted

Mary Stantier lived in the small town of Souris, on the eastern side of Prince Edward Island. She went to 6th grade in a small public school, four blocks away from her house. Even though she walked there and back, both ways, Mary was still more chunky than most of her class mates. She had round, plump cheeks, black hair and an abundance of freckles across her nose and cheek-bones. But, Mary’s least favorite feature, were her glasses. They were huge, squared, black rimmed, with thick lenses, that almost passed the sides of her rounded face. These glasses were the biggest reason for Mary’s mistreatment at school. She got teased, bullied and hurt outside on the playground, and in the classroom, her teachers disliked her. Mary didn’t have anyone to talk to about her unfortunate experiences at school. Her parents didn’t pay much attention to her. Her father was always down in the potato factory, earning barely enough to feed the family for a week, and her mother was too pre-occupied with her new-born twins. 

On picture day, Mary woke up to the usual sound of yelling and shouting between her parents downstairs. She groaned, as she pulled the covers over her head, trying to block out the deafening shouts. Mary stayed there until she heard the front door slam shut and the roar of their beat-up pickup truck speed out of the driveway. She staggered towards the only bathroom in their small house. Mary shut the door and looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror. She wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her pajama. When her eyes dried up, she looked up at her own face staring back at her, red, puffy eyes, freckles and all. Mary angrily grabbed her hair brush and yanked it through the tangled black strands of hair.

“Why does it always have to be me?” she asked her reflection, expecting an answer, the way she did every morning. Mary pulled some of her hair to the side and clipped it with the bright red hair clip she got from her grandmother. Mary’s favorite colour was red. She specifically picked out a matching red dress from her mother’s closet. It was slightly big in the shoulders and sleeve length, but it fit her fine in the waist.  She pulled on her white tights, and clipped on a small golden heart locket. Finally, Mary sprayed some hair spray on her hair, and tried to imitate a hair straightener with her fingers. She cautiously made her way down the creaking stairs, trying hard not to ruin her hair. Mary sat down in the empty chair across to her two baby brothers.

“Mary, is that my good red dress?” her mother asked agitated, while pouring a bowl of chocolate cereal. 

“Yes mom, but last night you said I could borrow. Today’s picture day, and I want to look really good.”

Her mother smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted with a loud outburst from one of the twins. Her smile vanished, and was replaced by an irritated frown.

“Okay, just don’t get it dirty. Aw, baby, don’t cry, it’s okay. Mommy’s here.” she dropped the cereal bowl and rushed over to the twins. Mary angrily stood up from her chair, causing a terrible screeching noise, as the chair slid across the floor.

“Mary, don’t make noise like that, the babies don’t like it. And bring that bowl of cereal over here, I'm starving.” her mother said sternly. Mary, shocked by the tone she got from her mother, did as she was told and slipped outdoors before she had to get cereal for her brothers, too.

The air outside was cool and refreshing. A brisk breeze blew the leaves on the trees, causing a calming rustle. Mary inhaled deeply, taking in the beauty of the day. She walked slowly and cautiously, making sure not to step in any puddles. Mary even pulled on her patched up hood from her coat, to make sure her hair didn’t mess up. She confidently walked up to the school yard and ignored the rude remarks people made.