Cursed: Chapter One: Prologue

My first story on this website. Don’t be so harsh and please review! Those are much appreciated!

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Chapter One: Prologue
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Alli’s POV

As if life isn’t enough of a curse, I was afflicted with Tourette Syndrome, one of the many curses bestowed upon me.

God…I’m already starting to get ahead of myself. Hmmm…where should I start?

Ahem, Tourette Syndrome is a disease you get at birth, and it causes the afflicted (i.e. me) to have vocal tics or motor tics, and some people even have both kinds of tics. When I was younger, I didn’t know what a vocal tic or motor tic was. One day, I asked my Mom what a tic was when she was trying to put out a fire and she told me that it was a little bug. I started to think that my body was a sort of playground where little bug-like animals, the ticks, would run around and play. Hey, I never said I was a genius…

It took a while, but my Mom finally got me to understand that vocal tics and motor tics were tiny things wrong with my body.

So what exactly were the vocal and motor tics? My Mom told me that vocal tics were sort of like little sounds that would come out of my mouth without my permission…just like little burps except a tiny bit different…and she said that motor tics were little parts of my body moving without my permission because they wanted exercise. Yea, I know, it’s sad that I actually fell for that, but I always thought my Mom was right when I was little!

And it never really seemed like all that big of a deal. I mean, I thought it was just another thing that separated me from grown-ups. Like how grown-ups could stay up late, and I couldn’t, and also like how my parents could say no to vegetables while I couldn’t. Of course, I saw my tics as just another little thing that separated me from my parents.

Until school started.

My parents told me to keep my problem a secret, but problems like these are hard to keep to yourself.

I finally started seeing Tourette Syndrome for the curse it really was. I didn’t like it when I would accidentally swing out an arm or a leg and trip someone. After tripping people, I usually got in trouble and started twitching because I was nervous and upset, which made the teacher ask me why I was twitching. Then, I would tell the teacher about my tics because I just didn’t know any better. I hated my tics after my teacher convinced the school to hold an assembly about Tourette Syndrome for my ‘benefit’, and I learned to distance myself because I was so different from all the other kids.

Tristan was the only true friend I had, though. He was the only one who really cared about the person behind the twitching façade, and he was the one who kept me going when I hated my life.

Then, Tristan moved.

My life became extremely dull after he left. I was quite saddened when I could only see young, gangly, gawky, freckled Tristan in my dreams. Even after he moved, I would be left with moments when I could recall his beautiful blue eyes or the lustrous gold color of his hair as it caught the sunlight when we were racing to the barn.

I missed Tristan constantly, and called him a lot.

My parents often asked me if I wanted to move, but I always had the smallest, stupidest hope that Tristan would someday come back, so I always said no.

Without Tristan, school became more like a prison.

Middle school was a terrible time for me. I mean, who had a good middle school experience? Middle school! It’s the time of puberty for crying out loud! It’s when hormones start getting control! And I’ll admit it, it sucks being alone when everyone else around you is starting to go hormonal and you’re stuck to face your changes, alone. It was during middle school that I started to get the hang of the whole Tourette Syndrome thing. I was finally able to control my tics during middle school. Mind you, it isn’t easy controlling tics…it’s like trying not to breathe; you can only resist for a short time before you have to let it go. There’s no way of stopping tics, they just happen…it’s like trying to block a waterfall with toothpicks. In the end, tics win and you have to do them.

High school was the beginning of what felt like hell. Midterms, huge tests, coupling, and dances were definitely not my idea of fun. All these kids started making fun of me in the cafeteria one day because they noticed my jaw twitching. I mean, I didn’t even realize my jaw had been twitching, mainly because some tics are just so natural you barely notice them…until people start pointing and staring. I tried to ignore the popular people when they started talking about me in the table behind me.

“Oh my god. Look, it’s that ugly E.I. girl. And her jaw’s moving!”

‘Scuse me? E.I girl??!! I scowled inwardly that the foolish girl dared to call me mentally challenged. Oh yes, I had Tourette Syndrome, but that did not mean I was mentally incapacitated!!

I whirled around and said, “Excuse me, but do you know who you’re talking to?”

The most popular bitch of them all, Katherine, looked over her shoulder at me and rolled her eyes when she saw me. “Ewwww, look, the freak’s trying to talk to us.”

Her best mate, Joanna, turned around and joined in, “God, I know. Shut up! So, what’s wrong? Is the special ed class suddenly too challenging for you?”

I barely repressed the urge to roll my eyes at the girl’s stupidness when I said, “Guess you’re special ed too. Did you ever know that I’m in all your damn classes? And at least I’m not so ugly that I have to wear layers of makeup to look good.”

That shut the popular girls up pretty well….

Katherine snapped her fingers, and called, “Group meeting!”

With that, all the popular girls gathered in a huddle and started whispering together. I caught snatches of their conversation though.

I heard Joanna’s ditzy voice uncharacteristically hiss, “She’s in all my classes???”

Then, Joanna’s whisper rose a decibel as she hissed, “Mallory!! Have you seen her in my first hour?”

“Yea! God, I noticed how bad her hair looked.” Mallory…acting like the total ditz, as usual.

“I know! She looked like Frankenstein! Like, so totally retro.” Were they whispering loud just so that I could hear them pick me to pieces?

Don’t get me wrong…it wasn’t as though I hated my life. I mean, I was decently well off. And, I have to admit, not in any self-centered way or anything, but I am passably decent. My life was wonderful…I just hated the curse that had been placed upon it. That night, I went to bed furious and cursing all the popular girls into oblivion for being so ungrateful for their happy lives without Tourette Syndrome.

I think I was so mad that if I knew voodoo, I would have started putting curses on all the popular girls, on the popular girls’ children, and even on the popular girls’ children’s children.

Course, I don’t know how to do cool things like that.

Instead, I went to bed wishing for any sort of change. I didn’t particularly care what kind of change it was…as long as it happened in exchange for my Tourette Syndrome. I mean, I was so fed up with Tourette Syndrome that I was ready to have anything, ANYTHING, thrown at me as long as my Tourette Syndrome went away.

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Everything changed the next morning though.

I mean, not that it seemed different….I had forgotten to close the skylight window directly above my bed, again, so rays of light were blinding me as I tried to turn off my alarm clock. As I trudged to my bathroom, my hair was the same bird’s nest as it usually was and, just like any other day, I barely managed to stifle a scream that escaped me when I looked into the mirror.

“GAH-AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

I dragged myself downstairs after finishing my daily morning routine and changed into a red shirt a pair of flared black pants and hurried downstairs.

I still hadn’t noticed anything different though.

Mom was downstairs making breakfast when she greeted me with her usual hello; a scarily bright smile and a glass of hand-squeezed orange juice, her pride and joy. (She thought orange juice was the miracle liquid of the world…yea, she’s weird, I know. No worries, you’ll get to see more about her later…)

I swear, my Mom is so predictable in the morning…I could probably hold up cards in place of talking and not have to say anything because my cards would answer all the questions my Mom asks.

As usual, she started lecturing me about my pants, and my lack of attention from the opposite sex.

Mom is quite amazed that I haven’t gotten boys running after me. I mean, she thought that I was going to have tons of boys flocking to me the moment I hit puberty…in fact, she was so certain that she even bought me my own phone line. Mom was so disappointed when the only one I talked to on my private line was Tristan. Of course, Mom is in denial and likes to think that guys aren’t chasing after me because they are not physically ready. She just doesn’t seem to get that guys don’t exactly like biological freaks like me, and she always goes on about how she was the most popular girl in school, and how boys would always flock after her.

Hello? Mom, that’s what you get for being a cheerleader…I’m a biological freak. I mean, if you were to flip to biological freak in the dictionary, you’d find a bad picture of me! We belong to two different species of high-schoolers.

I’ve often brought up that argument, but it has not helped me a bit. She only starts going into the whole talk about how I’m not a biological freak and that I shouldn’t have such low self-esteem. Ha, like you can talk! You’re not in high school anymore!

Everything changed that morning though. I suppose I should have noticed earlier while I was getting ready for school, but uh, my brain is still in a comatose state at 6 in the morning. At 7, I’m only beginning to wake up, so I don’t think much, and when I do, it’s at the mental capacity of a five-year-old. I was caught up in such a stupor that I didn’t notice my Mom suddenly watching me intently.

So, I didn’t think it was all that important when my Mom started yelling and screaming something about my tic not being there.

Tired….so tired….

Then my Mom, observant as she is, noticed my lack of attention.

She started yelling in my ear….and I finally realized what she had said.

My tic is GONE?!

What the hell? Was she kidding me?

My tics couldn’t be gone! How’d that happen???

Then, I remembered the wish I had made the night before.

Did it actually work????

I sat there in shock and realized, slowly, that my tic really was gone. I hadn’t felt a single tic that whole morning.

Then, I grinned mischievously, as I realized what this meant.

My Mom and I sat there for a few more moments before I realized I had to get to school. Just before I left, I thought I heard my Mom say, “It’s a miracle! How did this happen?”

I yelled back, “I wished for it!”

I left too early, and missed seeing my Mom shake her head and say, “Did I really say that outloud?”

If only I had stayed home for another minute! I would have realized that I had been given another curse to replace Tourette Syndrome.

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