Curse of Curves

Perfect, right? Hair combed, brushed back into perfection; clothes pressed with no wrinkles.

“Ethan, honey? Are you up?” My mother asked from the doorway.

Carefully, I nodded so that my hair wouldn’t fall out of place. I pulled on my ironed-out clothes; the kind that contain no wrinkles and then carried my bag in my hand so it wouldn’t muss up my clothes.

I inspected myself in the mirror: brown hair in place, teeth flawlessly white, no dust or other noticeable particles on my clothing, and pure, pale complexion.

“You weren’t up late studying were you?” Mom asked from her spot at the table.

“No, why?” I lied. She eyed me suspiciously. There couldn’t possibly be something amiss could there? No, I checked in the mirror myself, everything was perfect, flawless even.

“There are bags under your eyes,” She stated, quirking her eyebrow as if urging me to go inspect the defect. So I did. I turned to face the closest mirror to look under my eyes.

I hadn’t seen it before because it was so… faint. How did she see it?How did I not?

I bit my lip and timidly took out the cover-up she wanted me to use in case my face was less-than-immaculate. I didn’t like using the makeup, but I needed to cover up my defect so I slathered some onto my cheeks and worked it over the skin under my eyes.

Once again, I grabbed my bag and headed over to the doorway, giving my mother a quick peck on the cheek before heading out to walk to my school. The Christian school down the street.

The kind with uniforms, religious praise, praying, and bible classes. The very same one that contain kids that looked like me: perfect, immaculate, incapable of error.

Dad had decided the school for me, being the religious man he was. I was religious too, of course, living in a family full of the beliefs and worshipping.

Amidst the crowds of idle, swear-less banter, I found my locker and took my books. The first period’s always the hardest – AP Biology (of course the evolutionary theory was left out of the teachings).

Among several of my other AP classes I wasforced into taking, Biology happened to be the hardest because of all the labs we were required to do. I hated hands-on work. To that, I much preferred a worksheet. I didn’t like the part about being in groups either. I was the top student of the class; I was depended on, taken advantage of in group work.

I sat through another lecture, thanking God that I didn’t have a group assignment or a lab to do today. However, there was one tomorrow.

Throughout the hall, everyone had the same mannerisms: combed hair, straight teeth, primped and pressed uniforms.

Then I detected something amongst all the perfection. A sore thumb; someone who didn’t belong. I looked up from where I was standing to see the deficiency of flawlessness. The messy mop of brown hair was bobbed through the ocean of students, earning their looks of distaste or the looks of some OCD compulsive that wanted to fix it.

There were only a brave few that looked to him with admiration for his difference. The teachers thought different – they stared at him with wide eyes as if he were a Satan reincarnate. He very well could’ve been what with the angry scowl and the way he carried himself.

Why is a kid like him here? I thought to myself, biting my lip, before realizing that it wasn’t the ‘proper’ thing to do and then letting go of the flesh, hoping I hadn’t inadvertently made my lip a noticeable red or else I be wearing more of the dreaded makeup on my face.

Instead of lingering on it, I headed over to my next class; tardiness wasn’t an option, not for my perfect attendance.

The only regular class I had in the morning was child development. I also had bible study in the afternoon, which was a normal class. Everything else was advanced. In everything else, my grades were perfect.

I still needed to finish the paper that I had been writing last night – the same one that I had stayed up late to finish to I took out the paper and started on the final paragraph, glad that I only had the conclusion to go.

As the final bell rang, everyone else filed in. “Good morning everyone!” The teacher cheered to us.

As if on cue, everyone replied to her with their own greeting – the most common being ‘good morning.’

“Now, if you could, please turn to chapter seven: the first trimester.” She directed. Everyone followed her order and cracked open their books to said chapter.

“Can anyone tell me what deve-” She started, but was interrupted by the door being pulled open. Everyone’s attention, including mine, was pulled to the door.

“I believe this belongs in your class?” My eyes widened as I saw what the other teacher had in tow; the possible Satan reincarnate with his messily straightened hair and rumpled uniform. The teacher that had brought him in turned harshly to the kid and muttered a threat to him.

The child development teacher was quite possibly the nicest teacher at the school – and the most accepting. She smiled brightly at the boy after the teacher left. “Have a seat anywhere. There’s a free seat by…” She scouted the classroom, looking for empty seats. “Trisha… and… Derek, is that a free seat by you?”

The boy she’d spoken to nodded to say ‘yes’.

“There’s one behind Ethan and one by Brandon too. Take your pick.”

He looked around, surveying his options. His eyes ran over me as I sat in the penultimate row as he looked over his prospective neighbors.