Mean Girls Don't Cry [short story completed]

42. mean girls dont cry

18 years ago

Wendy Angelia George, the definite poster child of perfection. At sixteen years old, she was the prettiest, thinnest and most lady like.

She didn't like it though.

She never liked it, but she had no choice. Her mother, Veronica, had always told her to sit up straight when she slouched, yelled at her when she'd sneak candy and told her to drink water every single second.

She never understood why her mother did that; bossed her around and told her what to eat and what not to, but her only thought was that her mother must've cared dearly for her.

Her bedroom was huge. Her family was comfortable but she knew her father, Richard, was a busy man and that it was the only reason why they lived luxuriously. She loved him enough to say that she cared for him more than she did for her mother.

She sat on her king sized bed and looked over to her bed lamp smiling at the framed photograph sitting on top of the table. It was a picture of her and two girls she considered her closest friends. They stood side by side and had smiles so wide, you'd only want to smile along with them.

It was 10pm; past her bedtime, she knew that her mother would be barging into her room any minute to check if she's sleeping because apparently sleep helps you with your skin and helps with weight loss.

She sighed and snuggled into her bed sheet getting comfortable. She glanced up at the ceiling watching the fan go around and around, hearing nothing but the hinges of the old thing and her slow breath going in sync with the tick of the clock hanging on her wall.

She heard footsteps heading towards her room so she quickly turned over and closed her eyes; slowing down her breathing even more to make it seem as if she was fast asleep. She heard her room door open for a good few seconds and then closed back again. She opened an eye to see if the light from the outside was sipping through her room door to let her know whether the door was still ajar or not and to her pleasing, it wasn't.

She slowly sat back up and looked up at the clock; 11pm. Time was going so fast and right now, she was starving. She hadn't eaten any real food all day except the stupid garden salad with French dressing that her mom had made for her. She hated vegetables.

She slowly turned around and hopped off her bed making sure to be quiet. She crept towards her room door and opened it up looking over downstairs to the living room and kitchen checking if her mom or dad (mostly her mom) were still awake but they weren't.

She walked out of her room and closed the door behind her. She quickly rushed downstairs to the kitchen and opened the fridge only to be disappointed when she found there wasn't anything appealing in there except a bunch of vegetables, milk, water and fruits.

"Ew." She whispered looking over the grocery. "Nothing else? Are you serious?"

Frustrated, she closed the fridge. Turning around to go back to her room, she spotted the light in her dads office indicating that he was still awake. She decided she'd go pay him a little visit since he wasn't the one always nagging her to go to bed early.

So she made her way there. She stood in front of the office and tried putting her hand out and turning the knob only to find that it was locked. She frowned, "It's always unlocked." She stated.