So Special- Chapter 1

         This is me, moping. It doesn’t look like I’m moping, because I’m listening to Blood on the Dance Floor at maximum volume and dancing around my room, but I am. (It’s my dance workout, which I always extend by about an hour when I’m sad.) It was one of those moods where the boy you love is dating the middle school girl who copied your hair. Everyone knows how that is, right? Ha, I doubt it, but let me tell you, it sucks.

         I was the only person at Manitou Springs High School with purple hair. This wouldn’t have been so had I gone to my home school, but at MSHS, everyone was preppy. There was me, and three of my friends, that had hair colors alternative to those given by whatever god you may or may not believe in. Later, Lucas Ride and his friend Jared broke out the semi-permanent… But 6 kids in a whole high school isn’t very much at all, and we were all seen as very creative and original. This was fine by me, as I was creative and original, and also, it gave me a way to stand out to Lucas Ride.

         Lucas was amazing. I despise the word amazing, as it is overused by ridiculous teenagers, but spiffy or nifty, my two favorites, simply wouldn’t convey what I am trying to say here. It wasn’t that he was hot- which he was, oh my god- but what really got me was his intelligence, personality…You know. No, actually, you don’t, but that’s why I’m explaining, right? It was in art, when his friend Jared said something homophobic, like “he’s such a faggot.” I’m used to that, so much so that it isn’t offensive anymore, and really wasn’t expecting anyone to say anything, but Lucas said,

         “A faggot is a pile of sticks. And there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

         “What?”

         “A faggot,” he paused, looking up from his sketch, “Is a pile of sticks.”

         “No, a fag is a homo.”

         “A fag is a cigarette. A faggot is a pile of sticks. That is what it means. Do you feel intelligent now, Jared? My brother is gay, so shut the fuck up.” And Jared did.

         Now I’m bisexual, with other factors that make me slightly more queer than the average bi girl. I am for gay rights, in a major way. So, of course, I had to find this majorly gorgeous not-narrow boy and add him as a friend on Facebook. When he accepted, it happened to have been 9/11 the past week- and while everyone else was posting about how terrible it was, and it was such a fucking tragedy, Lucas actually had his own opinions, which is a trait I value in a person. You can say it’s a tragedy after you think about it for a couple hours, do some research on the USA’s reaction and possible terrorist motivations, but if you are just listening to everyone brainwashing you, I am not going to take your bullshit.

         Of course, I probably wouldn’t have noticed all this if Lucas wasn’t so hot. That’s the problem with me- pretty boys are my weakness. (That and collarbones. I have a collarbone fetish.) He had bleached blonde hair, streaked with semi permanent hot pink dye that faded to Hello Kitty pink after a few weeks. Now, Shelby, my best friend at Manitou Springs High School didn’t think that was a big deal. She said, “It’s just hair.” But it wasn’t! It was a protest to male homophobic and gender-restrictive ideals! That is still how I see it. Plus, it’s pretty goddamn brave for a guy who already gets called a fag all the time to do something to provoke such reactions from his peers.

         Lucas actually looked similar to Jonny James. I know he’s probably going to be a pop idol by the time anyone reads this, but right now, hardly anyone has heard of him except all the girls who are in love with him. His nose was cute, and curved, and he had pretty hazel eyes. He was extremely skinny- like, to the point of looking anorexic, which I like, although it does seem a bit sick- and wore acid wash skinny jeans and band t-shirts. Like I said, he’s amazing.

         Now, back to the subject of Facebook… I promptly began my cyberstalking behavior. I do not view it as creepy. I have done much creepier things in the past, and it undermines all of this that Kaori, my best friend who doesn’t even go to my school, also added him as a friend on Facebook. That’s just strange, and why the hell did he accept? But, okay. His relationship status was hidden- you know, how it’s put as blank and just doesn’t show. I figured he just thought it was pointless to advertise his single-ness. Because what person that is dating someone hides that from the rest of the world?

         That’s what I thought, until someone names Isabel Townsend commented on his page, saying, about his lovely pink hair, “I very much enjoy your new hair color. ” Her profile picture had purple hair. I figured it wasn’t really her- but the singer of Cool Crates (the latest “punk“ band that everyone seemed to love) or something. I hadn’t seen anyone but myself with purple hair around the school, but I went to Isabel Townsend’s page anyway, feeling the urge to monitor all of Lucas’s contact with females.

         The bitch copied my hair. As if that didn’t piss me off enough- she’s friends with Lucas, and she copied my hair?! She had photo albums titled “my purpleness,” when photos from a week ago showed her to be blonde. This chick was the biggest poser I had ever seen. I noticed her with Anton after school, then, and deduced  in a short time that she wore the same skirt almost every day- and not for a lack of money. Then, she posted this, as her status- “It’s funny to see people’s reactions when I walk by. There are the ones who are afraid to see me and try not to look, and the ones who can’t help but stare.”

         Was she fucking kidding me?! She was a normal person, only with purple hair, just like all the little 6th graders at my middle school (known as “the ghetto school”). Ever seen a girl with purple hair walk by, wearing a gothic Lolita outfit? Yeah, she does not know how it feels to be stared at. But apparently, boys like stupid little posers.

         I know this, because Then, I saw on her wall, which she left visible, that her relationship status had changed. She was now seeing someone. (Now, I know this may sound like I was stalking her. Perhaps, I was, but it was, in my mind, completely justified. ‘Cause even though it isn‘t justified, anyone who steals my style, and as you‘re about to read, my happiness,)  I read the comments- useless banter with a friend that led to her finally saying who the lucky guy was.

         Surprise! It was Lucas. And I didn’t cry. I mean, as far as I can tell, I was in love with the guy. (Yes, I do always set myself up for heartbreak.) But I didn’t fucking cry once, which, let me tell you, is a humongous improvement for me.

         I snapped into numbness- that “what the fuck?” feeling, where you know what happened, but you can’t believe it. It’s where your eyes vaguely hurt, and you feel like they’re wide, and blank, like the rest of your face, and you’re moving awkwardly. Everything you say is right- thrown out there by some robot, when the real you isn’t listening at all, but thinking, “Lucas is dating the girl who copied my hair,” over, and over, and over, but your mind doesn’t give you what that means. It only throws at you the letters, words, and sounds.

         After I finished up my math homework, and then I took my bike and rode downtown, to Rico’s Café (right next to Poor Richard’s Pizza, Little Richard’s Toy Store, and Poor Richard’s Discount Bookstore. Richard isn’t so poor anymore.) to have some sipping chocolate (which is like chocolate syrup heated up-delicious), and write some poetry on my laptop.



Here you go, sweetheart, it’s your

Perfect fairy tale.

You’re the princess- and after you

Steal everything from the ugly girl who doesn’t matter

-You steal her hair, and her

Originality, everything

Beautiful-

You can also have

Her happiness.

It’s okay- she can sit in writing class

Tortured by your prince’s voice,

Always wondering why

You-

The princess-

Are so much more special

To him.

It’s okay, because,

Even though you

Took everything from her,

You are the main character of this story.

You are the princess, and she never

Has been,

And never will.



         I read it over, and suddenly started feeling emotional. it all rushed in, and I wasn‘t numb anymore. I read over my poem, inhaled, and then my eyes started filling up with tears. I know how not to cry- you pinch the bridge of your nose, and look up. If you do it right, it can look natural, like you‘re just putting a hand on your face. I went off to the bathroom to privately pull myself together.

         The feminist in me, which is pretty much all over the place, as I’m an extreme feminist, was telling me that I could not cry over another guy. I mean, we girls don’t even need them to be happy, especially if you’re bi, like me, and can date other girls. Really, girls are the answer, ‘cause you can’t get pregnant, and unless you’re me and a social derp, you never have the issue of simply not getting the opposite gender. So I breathed deep, and whispered to myself, “You don’t need him, you don’t need him,” over and over.

         To get to the bathroom at Rico’s, you have to walk through the toy store. By then, it was closed, and I had to go through a dark aisle closed off by black net, to prevent shoplifting. Then, I passed the lonely-looking waitress with the tattoos, dreadlocks, and nose rings, and the smell of Poor Richard’s pizza. In the ladies’ room, there’s a painting that always scared my best friend in kindergarten, when we went there together. It’s of a man- his face is strange, stylized, and odd. There’s a hole in his head, similar to paper or plastic bursting, and something is flowing out, in a blob. His brain, perhaps? I leaned against the sink, in the too-bright fluorescent lights, and stared at it. The walls had exposed pipes, and jagged walls, all covered with a neon, slightly peachy orange. I washed my hands, and left.

         I hopped on my bike, and rode home. It was a warm early October night- the kind where the world still hasn’t realized it’s fall already, but I was freezing all the way home.