In the Open

"You look like a crackhead..."

***Melissa Benoist as Nadine Reynolds***

Amelia Reynolds.

The name that constantly circulates around me, whether I want it to or not. Every aspect of my life is somehow relevant to that name, and I hate it with every fiber of my being.

Usually, one's parents would be proud that their child made a 98 on a test. But my parents? They showcase their 'I'm so disappointed in you' look, and tell me that I should be more like Amelia. That I should make a perfect 100% on every assignment, just like her.

Or that I should make sure that I get myself a scholarship to the top colleges in America, just like her. Or that I should achieve valedictorian.

Just.

Like.

Her.

I guess that they don't understand that with every single disappointed look that crosses their face, they're telling me that I'm not good enough. I spend at least three hours a day studying, and if I'm not studying, I'm practicing piano, or dance, or any of the other million things that my parents forced me into, simply because Amelia did them.

When she left for college last year, they were devastated. Mom moped around the house for an entire week, only coming out to eat and clean when necessary. Dad spent most of his time tending to Amelia's Sedan, which she conveniently left here for me, as a "farewell gift" as she called it.

There was nothing wrong with the car, but I guess that was his way of feeling as if she was still here.

I however, was so relieved when she left, and I know it sounds bad, but I'm just being honest. I was hoping that with her gone, mom and dad would look at me with at least a sliver of the affection that they held for her. But they didn't.

With her gone, they only notice the things about me that don't measure up to her. And that really, really sucks.

***

"So, what are your after school plans today? Study until your brain gets sore?" Alyssa taunts me as we walk towards World History.

"No actually, I'm only going to study until my eyes get sore," I mock, but there is definite truth behind my words.

"Your commitment to school will always astound me." She laughs as we enter the semi-vacant classroom. We settle ourselves in the back, adding to the increasing chatter wafting through the room.

Minutes later, the bell signals throughout the classroom, effectively ending most conversation.

"Okay, let's get right to it! Today, we will be focusing on World War II," our history teacher says, and quickly continues when he sees all the apprehensive faces staring back at him, "In a very fun way, so don't you dare complain, or I'll make you write a five page essay."

I knew instantly that I would love this class, due to our teacher's fun character, and the fact that he won't teach straight from the book.

We just got back from Christmas break, so all of our classes have changed. During the first half of the year, we have half of our core classes, and then half is our elective classes. The same goes for the second half, hence getting to know new teachers and attending different classes.

I lean in, completely attentive as he begins to tell us of his plans for us this month.

"We will be doing a group project over the next few weeks. Your goal is to create a group act of World War II. You will need to act out a scene from this time period -real or fake- and you'll also need to write an essay about the event. I'll hand out informational packets now, and I'll allow you to choose your own groups ranging from two to three," he says, beginning to distribute the papers.