Mathlete to Beauty Queen

BARBIE SCHOOL

"So, when is my hair appointment again?" 

Camie shoots me a look, "You know, for someone with such a high G.P.A, you really do have a hard time remembering things."

"Say's the person who once forgot to shower for two weeks."

Camie glares at me.

"Touche. . . Your appointment is at 12:30, tomorrow."

I glance at my clock, "Wow. . . It's already 2:00, how did that happen?"

"It happened when you wasted half the day sulking," Camie jokes.

I don't find it very funny.

"In the span of three months, my sister died, and my parents kicked me out. I think I've earned the right to sulk don't you think?"

Camie sighs, "Look, Ash, I get it, I really do, but you're never going to move on if you keep feeling sorry for yourself."

Deep down I know that she is right, but I can't even fathom that right now. Moving on means living my life without Bryn. That's something I never wanted to do. 

 I decide to brush off her comment for the moment. . . I don't feel like crying again today.

"I know. . . Is it okay if you come back later? I really need to finish unpacking."

"Are you sure you don't want some help?" Camie offers.

She lifts one box in the air and tilts her head to the side.

I chuckle, "You know that was me trying to subtly ask to be left alone right?"

"Oh I know what you meant, I've known you too long not to," she puts the box back on my bed, "I just wanted to make sure that's what you actually want," 

"I really just need to be alone for a little while, thank you though, Cam. I'll see you later for our movie marathon, alright?" 

She gives me a thumbs up, "You bet."

With that, my best friend turns around and leaves the room.

"Love you, Cam!" I yell.

"Love you too!" 

After I hear the slam of the door, I let out a puff of air that I didn't know I was holding in. 

All this talk of revenge and total transformations is starting to get overwhelming. . . As if I needed something else to worry about. 

 I take a moment to look around my new room, and I find myself wishing I could go back home. That house harbors all my memories of Bryn, good and bad. It's where she would paint, where I would help her with math. . . It's where we grew up.

  Sometimes I wonder, if Bryn knew how her death would affect us all, would she have made the same choice? I suppose I'll never know, but I like to think that she wouldn't have. 

I sit down on my desk chair and look up to nowhere in particular. 

"Why?" I whisper, very well knowing that she can't, and never will hear me.

I dig my nails into the palm of my hand. I've found that physical pain helps with the mental. I would never go farther than this, however.

Standing from my desk chair, I grab the box that Camie had and begin to unpack it. Inside the box is Bryn's journal. I promised myself that I wouldn't read anymore, but I couldn't bear to let it get thrown away. 

  Tucking it away in my desk drawer, I silently thank Bryn for actually using my stupid gift. Even though I won't let myself read it, I feel like I have a piece of who she was with me.