Behind This Smile

Everyone has their own personal hell, right? If not, oh, well. 'Cause I do. And it's called School. No, wait. High School. Which is why I dread waking up on weekdays, having to get ready and face all the nasty glares, all the higher-than-thou comments, and the pushing and shoving on a daily basis.

But what I can't stand is when there are people who dress just like me-- or "my kind"-- and I'm still a freak.

But Nicola has it all. My beautiful, stupid, popular, asshole-ish sister. Twin sister. She was everything I wanted to kill. Everything I hated. And it hurts me to think, everything I wish I was. Then my mom wouldn't have been so disappointed in me when she was practically in her deathbed.

Don't get me wrong, I missed my mom. Still do. But, I didn't need Einstein to tell me that Nicola was her favorite. Needless to say, though, you still need Einstein to tell Nicola that she's not Dad's favorite. I am. But I'm not bragging.

I sighed, grabbed my clothes, and walked to the bathroom; I wasn't surprised to find that Nicola had beat me to the bathroom. As always. I leaned against the door, and listened to Nicola giggle. Probably talking to her boyfriend of the week.

I sighed and took a sudden interest in the carpet. It was kind of dirty...

Suddenly, I fell backwards into the bathroom to see Nicola, her brown eyes showing no amusement to my pain, but anger. "What are you doing?" she sneered.

"There are other people in this household beside you, my queen," I replied sarcastically as I got up and brushed myself off.

"You're so cute when you're jealous." She faked a smile

"Yeah, because I'm jealous of your intense uglyness." Uglyness? Are you kidding me?

She scoffed. "That hurt me deep." She put a hand over her heart and and let out a low whine.

"I know. Now get out." I pushed her out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

We weren't always like this. In fact, she used to be my best friend. But when we started junior high, she started acting bitchy, and that's when I decided I don't like bitches.

I quickly got dressed and ran a brush through my black hair with blue tips. I surrounded my green eyes in eyeliner and opened the bathroom door. I was done.

Nicola glared at me when I stepped out. "Why do you put make-up on? It doesn't make you any prettier."

"Same reason you do... oh, wait... I put make-up on because I like it. You, on the other hand, put it on to get in a guys pants every other day." I brushed past her.

"I'm older!" she called.

"No, actually. I am."

I walked down the stairs and saw my dad on the couch, paler than a vampire. "Sick again, Dad?" I asked.

"Yeah, sport. I'm fine, though. Don't you worry your pretty little head." He smiled weakly, while I tried to smile a genuine smile. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "I just think maybe you need to see a docter...?"

He laughed. "No, sweetheart. I'm fine. Just a little fever and a headache..."

I nodded and grabbed my backpack. "See you later, Dad."

"Love you, Sydri," he called as I shut the door.