Trade Mistakes

1

Lizzie's POV

I was walking home from school by myself. I did that a lot, since I didn't have many friends except for M&M, but he didn't live by me, so I usually had to walk alone.

Me and him were both thirteen, and we took advanced classes at the high school. Technically, I should have two brothers going there, but Sodapop dropped out. Ponyboy still went.

I had three brothers. Darry was twenty, Sodapop was nearly 17, and Ponyboy was 14.

My brothers tended to forget me a lot. That's why I liked being friends with M&M- he never forgot me. I think we were a pretty good pair, me and him- even though he was more for peace and I was more of a true neutral.

M&M said he liked me because I saw past the outer layer of people, straight into their innermost layer. I didn't see looks, I only saw personality, really.

Since I'm on the topic of looks, I looked a lot like my mom, but I have my dads eyes. I was short like her, only about 5'4. My eyes were dark brown, and so was my hair. My eyes always had real dark shadows under them, like I hadn't slept at all, even though I did. It was a mystery, really; some nights I was too sad to sleep, some nights I was so sad that I only wanted to sleep, and some nights I couldn't force myself to sleep.

I was always pale, no matter what time of year it was. I had my hair cut short, only two or three inches down past my ears. I didn't much care about what haircuts were popular- I liked what I liked, and if I liked it, I wouldn't listen to anyone who would try to change my mind.

None of my clothes really fit me- they were all bought from secondhand stores, or were my brothers old shirts. My favorite thing that I owned was my black jeans jacket that I'd gotten from mom for my thirteenth birthday, two weeks before she was killed in an auto wreck. That jacket was about five million times too big because they wanted me to have something warm I could grow into for a few years.

Mom was my favorite person. She always listened to me when I had a bad day, and helped me when I didn't understand my work. She never yelled at me, and she always understood me.

Dad wasn't like that. I was an accident, I never should have been born, and he made sure I knew it. He wouldn't hit me or yell at me in front of my brothers or mom, and they always saw the bruises and the scrapes and asked me how I got them. I would always shrug and say, "I don't know".

Soda would always joke around by saying, "Well shucks, Lizzie- what do ya know?"

But I'm the kind of person that never got jokes, even when they were obvious. So when he said that, I'd always frown and say, "Nothing, I guess."

People always made fun of me and shouted at me for being too serious, but I couldn't help it. Kids at school called me slow, and I'd always ask, "Well, why am I the only other thirteen year old at this school?"

That usually shut them up.

Ever since mom and dad died, it felt like everyone forgot about me. Sometimes I wanted to cry and shout at them. I'm here, too! Please don't leave me alone!

But sometimes I felt like I deserved to be alone. When I told this to M&M, he suggested I talked to my brothers, and I just hummed in agreement.

Even if I did talk to my brothers about it, they'd forget about it right away. I guess I just wasn't important enough to be remembered.

I think that the only one that really understood me was M&M. He didn't judge me for who I was or how I dressed or for being so scholarly.

He told me I was the only one that understood him, too. I was glad we were friends. We were two halves to a whole.