Status: In which a mixed WoC stops whitewashing.

Between Here and There

February 23, 2010

Life up until now has been most bothersome, especially because of all the drama people seem to thrive on. The subsequent deaths of my father, grandfather, and grandmother have left me with no will to try in school and my grades are currently "in the shitter" as the phrase goes. Because of this I've been holed up in my room for a week trying to make up every incomplete assignment of the semester. The pre-AP English vocabulary terms took the longest; the content having already been learned at the private middle school I attended.

The final assignments are essays, all of which I finished outlining last night. Piece of cake. The opening sounds of Windows Vista played quietly through my speakers and I opened up Fiction & Fiction, a writing website. The alerts tab for my account was empty despite my being a member since the very inception. Luckily there was a story update from "LuluLily", and a few new poems from "rosepotter" to occupy my time.

Words were nearly leaping from the screen. I was engrossed, exhilarated, and hungry for more when there was a soft knocking and a faint "Sage?" from the hallway.

My hands brought down the screen and pushed my empty McDonald's bag beneath my bed. Soft, plush carpeting met cold toes as I snatched up the silk robe I'd gotten for Christmas and cracked the door. "Hey, Bethany!"

Pearly white teeth graced my pale face, forced to greet one of the girls from Ms. Sullivan's acting class. How could I have forgotten about the Crucible scene we needed to stage? Bethany stepped in with her script in hand; long extensions had been added to her hair, a Mulberry Neely hanging from her slender shoulder. "Oh my gosh, Sage! Your hair is so light already, why would you want to bleach it?" I cringed mentally, the muscle in my shoulder twitching, as her eyes fell on my bucket of Quick Blue.

Hide the truth at all costs. No one needs to know how much you hate yourself. How fake you are. I shrugged, pulling out my copy of the script and some highlighters. "It was actually for extensions, but it burned them." Blonde locks bounced over my shoulder with the gesture for her to join me on the bed. "You can have that if you want."

The next three hours were filled with small talk and silent prayers that no other slip-ups would occur. Our scene looked well done - or would once we knew all our lines.
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Thank you to little tea-pot;, Midna the Dark, losing control., and the dalliance. for such kind comments!

This chapter hardly measures up, but I hope the next can.