\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1937166-Same-Person
Item Icon
by Gin Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Short Story · Dark · #1937166
The story is through a girl's eyes with the way her society acts.
            Everybody has been annoyed at the world. I’m still annoyed at the world. Everything I do is looked down upon; my choice of clothing is the major source of such scrutiny. When I was little, I was like all the other girls. I wore my hair in pigtails; I wore pink religiously. I was a normal little girl. It had all changed when I turned 12. My family had moved from our home of 12 years to a new place. The people weren’t as welcoming to us as our old neighborhood. They consistently looked down upon us since we were the new people. My family didn’t know the ‘ropes’ of the neighborhood. Everything we did was wrong. Eventually, I started to purposely do these things wrong. It occurred to me that they were trying to control my life; I was not going to let that happen.

            “Crystal, how many times do I have to tell? Your hair is not supposed to be dyed. Your clothes are not supposed to be so --- so dark.”

            My eyes rolled as I listened to my mother drone on and on about my choice of clothing and hair style. She had always lectured me about my choices. She changed like everybody else in my family. The neighborhood infected them; she wasn’t going to fall like them. My mother huffed as she walked out of the kitchen. I groaned before grabbing something to eat; she had seemed to forget I came for breakfast. I grabbed the eggs from the refrigerator to make scrambled eggs. Of course, karma was against me as my younger brother walked into the room. His hair combed neatly with those gaudy sweaters and khaki pants; I was surprised he could last in high school. Then again, we’re talking about the high school this neighborhood owns.

            “Crys, why are you wearing such clothes? I hope you don’t talk to me in school; I don’t want to be embarrassed.”

            “Oh, believe me, little brother, I wouldn’t dream of talking to you.”

            I couldn’t help but sneer at him. Everybody looked down on sneering; they wanted to be nice even to those rebelling against everything they know. He scoffed at me before grabbing a packet of Poptarts then proceeding to exit the room. My eyes rolled once again as I went back to making my eggs. As soon as I was finished, I placed them on a plate and grabbed the ketchup. Can’t have eggs without ketchup. I hummed happily as I sat at the table with the plate of eggs in front of me. As I grabbed the fork, my mother came back into the kitchen. She took a look at the table and gasped quite dramatically.

            “Scrambled eggs? In this house? I will not tolerate it, Crystal Highling!”

            “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered with my mouth full as I swallowed. “We’re supposed to eat sunny-side up eggs with toast.”

            “So, why would you make scrambled?!”

            “Uh, because I wanted scrambled eggs?”

            There was no reasoning with this woman as she grabbed my plate and threw my eggs in the trash. My mouth gaped open as she washed the plate and placed it on the strainer. She took my eggs and threw them away. My stare hardened as I stood from my place at the table. My fist shook violently as I took the plate and smashed it on the floor. My mother looked appalled at me. I smirked as I realized she wasn’t going to tolerate such an action from her own daughter.

            “Crystal!”

            Grabbing my bag, I walked out of the house as she continued to yell from afar. I didn’t care, truthfully. She could yell all she wanted at me. Until my family changed, I was going to continue to rebel. It was only natural. The bus passed me as the driver stared for a second. Nobody was to walk to school as it was considered unorthodox. I liked walking to school; the house was a few blocks away. As I reached the school, I spied my enemy – my rival. She was everything the neighborhood looked for in a person. She dressed professionally all the time. Her hair was combed into a braid with not even a highlight seen in it. Brown hair was ugly without any kind of color; it was dull. Oh, she could also do no wrong. She followed every rule that was offered in this hellhole.

            “Crystal.”

            Ugh, that tone of voice was nails on a chalkboard. She was overly polite. Even if she hated my guts, she was polite to me. I glared at her as I walked past without a word. She scoffed as soon as I was out of sight. I kicked my locker in frustration; I wanted to leave this place. I turned 17 this year, so I had to wait a whole other year until I could leave legally. I thought about running away from home; however, I could never run away from it. It was the only place I could go since all I known was my parents taking care of me. Grabbing a notebook, I slammed my locker shut before stalking to class.

            Every day was going to be the same thing. Every day I would hear about my behavior, my clothes style, my hair. Every day I would run into Carol and she would treat me with politeness. Every day, I would feel sick in my stomach at knowing there was something wrong with this neighborhood. My head lay on the desk as I stared out the window. The sun beamed in my eyes, and I knew I had to do something. Taking my pencil, I started to carve into the wood of the desk.

            “Everybody is the same person.”
© Copyright 2013 Gin (ml02330536 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1937166-Same-Person