Those Things Beautiful.

“We’re home!” Dana exclaimed, shoving the door open to make way for her eager, nine-year-old self. “We had the best day today!”

Of course, a sun burn was already forming on my skin; I could feel it blistering its way to the surface, breaking through to the outside. I’d forgotten to put sunscreen on before I left, what with Dana in such a hurry, and all. I firmly regretted giving in to her, but I knew in the back of my mind that she’d always get the better of me, that no matter how much I wanted what she didn’t, I’d let her have her way. With my younger sister, I couldn’t tell her ‘no.’ I didn’t know how to do it.

Maybe my sunburn could say it for me.

Eventually, I was going to get skin cancer, I just knew it.

“Did you girls have a good day today?” Mom asked, but I knew she was really just asking Dana. She didn’t much care what a girl my age had to say, only how girls at such a young age experience the days. Dana had always gotten along with Mom better than I had, anyway.

The small girl nodded her head furiously, walking up to Mom and giving her a big hug. “We got hot dogs and strawberry shakes, and we walked around town, and Hailey wouldn’t let me get anything.”

“I let you bring your shake with you,” I countered as I walked into the living room. “You should be good with that.”

She huffed. “I know for a fact that you only let me take it along because you were scared of those boys at the diner.”

She grinned cheekily.

Mom’s eyebrows rose

My mouth flopped open.

“What sort of boys are we talking about here?” she asked, smirking while adding an edge to her voice that wasn’t there before. It was a little suspicious, sounding a bit like she was trying to say something along the lines of: ‘And you thought you would hate it here, guess I proved you wrong.’

I sighed, long and loudly. “They’re no one. They were just a bunch of rowdy kids that I didn’t want Dana to be around. They were swearing and looked like bad news.” I was trying to use terms that Mom seemed to like, such as ‘rowdy’ and ‘bad news’. She was always saying stuff like that, sounding older than she actually (probably) was. I knew from years of being around her that she responded easier when I tried sounding like her; that way, it might seem like she was siding with herself. It usually worked.

Usually.

“Okay,” she said slowly, though I could tell that this topic would be pressed upon later.

I took this as my cue to leave; I stepped quickly upstairs, fighting the urge to walk into Dana’s room instead of my own. To be honest, I was still sore about the whole ‘room with a view’ thing, Dana’s greedy side getting the better of her once again… As was per usual. But, despite the bruises still in the process of healing over Dana’s greed, I decided to return to my own quarters and fall down on top of my bed.

Long and deep, I sighed. My face was planted deep inside my pillow and I swallowed hard. My throat was dry. I was thinking about those boys from earlier. I didn’t know why, as I had absolutely no reason to let my mind wander about them. In my head, I held their faces. I couldn’t bring myself to forget them, either. I couldn’t bring myself to just leave them be.

They weren’t any good. They were different.

But, then again, so was I.

Both they and I were so deeply set apart from the rest of the Huntington Beach population. They dressed differently than all else I had observed in my short time there, wearing clothing suitable for anywhere else but the heat of California. They laughed out loud and swore and mocked things publicly. They didn’t give a damn about anything, and they knew it.

I was lonely like that, too. I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t look like the supermodels that walked down the streets in their bikinis and extra-short shorts. I didn’t have the light in my eyes like they all did, I didn’t tan right. I just didn’t fit the mold that California had set for me upon my arrival. I belonged in Michigan, not there.

God, how I wished that I could just disappear, sometimes. I wished that I could disappear, rather than sticking out like a sore thumb in a city of beauty. I just couldn’t handle it, I couldn’t handle any of it. Dad was out of line when he asked us to move to California. He was out of line dragging me here against my will and forcing me to be happy when I knew that I couldn’t. Mom was out of line when she made me baby-sit Dana all the time. She was out of line when she made me stay out in the sun when I knew that I would burn.

Huntington Beach was out of line when it turned its flawless, sunny eyes on me and let me wonder what I could do to just fit in. It made me want to be like those blond, tan, long-legged, tall, amazingly gorgeous girls that flaunted everything they had by blending in with their surroundings.

I hated it all. I hated being so lonely.

But I hated those boys most of all, because they knew they were different.

And they loved it.