nefelibata (n.) | ✔️

prologue.

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Nefelibata (n.) is Copyrighted, and its owner, hxnwrite reserve all rights.

Welcome, and I hope you give it a chance and enjoy.

Big thanks to my best friend Rachel for helping this come to life.

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Three years prior. November 4th, 2015.

I never wanted to be like this, a follower of a girl hated by everyone. One who thinks she's above others. One who considers she superior. I hate her, I really do. Somehow, I've managed to convince myself to stay with her as her "friend," and I don't know why.

Brooklyn Hale is the fakest girl I've ever met. Her sole purpose on this earth is to make everyone think she is somehow better than them. I stand here, walking behind her with the other girls, whose names I don't know by the way, and silently pity myself.

I don't know how I ended up here. 

At the end of middle school, my dreams came crashing down along with my hopes of being different. Once Penelope left, I became some hopeless shell of a girl begging for some friends so I wouldn't become a loner. Now that's all I want to be, alone.

Brooklyn decided that I was pretty enough to become one of her pitiful minions. I feel like an idiot. I'm three months into my high school career, and I'm following a brain dead barbie doll around. My head hurts.

"Lena, are you even listening to me?" She shrieks. I don't remember walking to her locker, but here we are. "Do you ever listen to me anymore?" She mutters separately, probably thinking I wouldn't notice.

"Hmm? Sorry, what'd you say?" I muse, letting her go on to talk about whatever girl she has drama with or the boy she has issues with. I never saw myself as the sidekick that went to parties in groups of petty girls and hooked up with the first guy that asked.

"I said that Tate wants to do the deed tonight. I don't know if I'm ready to lose the card yet you know?" I want to throw up at the idea of her having sex with a senior. No disrespect but we're only fourteen.

"I'm saying this as kind as possible, if you can't say sex or virginity, you're probably not ready to have it." I try to make it sound kind, but I can practically feel the annoyance and judgment radiating off of me.

"Wow, Lena. You ignore me the whole way here, and then you say I'm not mature enough to have sex?!" She says, whispering the last part and making my eyes droop with disinterest.

"I never said you weren't mat-"

"You know what? Forget it." She interrupts, waving her hands around dramatically. "I'm so over your weird ass. I invited you to this group because you're hot, but you keep getting weirder every day. You never want to hang out, and you're always writing or drawing or whatever the hell it is you do now." She goes on criticizing me, making my eyes fall in shame.

It's not like I care what she's saying. I've been waiting for her to kick me out of this "friend" group for a while now. It's not even a friend group. Brooklyn talks shit about me, and I hear about it from everyone. Then, we pretend to like each other to keep our reputations intact. The thing is, I couldn't care less about my status.

I want to be different. I want to change the mindset that men are meant for the hard jobs and women should stay in the kitchen. I want to make a difference in this world. I wish my words to be heard and my art to be thought about. I want my voice to be listened to and my dreams to be a reality.

I don't care about pretending to be this typical high school girl anymore. I want to be different. No, I need to be different. "I'm done, Brooklyn. I can't pretend to be your best friend anymore when everyone here knows I'm not. I can't pretend to enjoy your presence. I need to be my own person, and if that leaves me with no friends, then I guess I have no friends."

Brooklyn slams her locker with a look of rage freshly printed onto her face. "Whatever, Lena. If you want your high school career to be filled with humiliation and Saturdays spent alone then be my guest. I don't want you in my group anymore anyway." I roll my eyes.

"Let the next girls that audition for my spot know that you're a psychotic bitch for me, yeah?" Is all I say before backing away slowly and turning around, storming right out of the school with freedom radiating off me for everyone to feel.

Finally, I'm free to be who I want to be. To live the life I've always wanted to, design the things I want and to create a difference, be the difference. I don't know why it took me so damn long to leave the bitch.

Thank you so much for reading! Please, give the next chapters a chance and feel free to vote and comment! :)