Outliers

Chapter 11: Bridget

Bridget felt a trip from behind, and fell on her face.

"Ha. Come on, Bridget. I'm not letting my sister be this lame," Bridget's older brother, Blake, snickered. He was already 19, but is really, really cruel. He always did these kind of things to his sister - even without the pot around him. Another stumble. "Get up, girlie."

Bridget's mom didn't bother with the siblings, just headed into the office with them trailing. On weekends, Bridget and Blake had to come into their mother's workplace with them, her not able to afford a nanny. Bridget's family actually was broke, unlike what everyone at school thought. Everyone at her school thought her father was a big-shot movie producer, and her mother was his accountant, but in reality 3 years ago - when Bridget was 11 and Blake was 17 - their parents had an ugly divorce and neither would pass the money.

So now, Bridget's mother was working over hours at the local dentist's office (still as an accountant), one of the underclassmen dental offices, and her father worked movie trailers for his town's big-leagues movie theatre. It was a step down, but still much more money than Mrs. McAllen was making.

It was a terrible concept to explain, this whole lie that was her life at school.

In school, Bridget McAllen was popular, pretty and rich - at home, she's an ugly person who's driving her mother deeper in debt to buy her the better clothes, the better make-up, the better everything to keep up her act.

It was sickening, this visual appearance addiction that Bridget had. But it was hard for her to break it, and it was hard for her to hide it.

*  *  *  *

An alarm clock blared at Bridget, screaming at her to get up. But Bridget let out a low moan and checked the time. 6:00 AM yelled at her in a red digital glow, and Bridget slammed down on the clock - hopefully hitting the off button.

In a quick motion, she was up and out of bed, getting ready for a shower. After a shower and drying her hair, she slipped into fancy dress pants and a black tank top. Over the black tank top, Bridget threw on a blue shrug and went.

Because her mom could only afford Bridget's clothes and not much else, she has to skip breakfast to save food for lunch. But also for lunch, all of the family had to cut back - meaning Bridget was taking only a packet of crackers and a granola bar, while tucking 4 quarters into her pocket.

"Hey, where d'you think you're goin', with all them foods?" Bridget's brother slurred, still not fully wake after being woken up by Bridget's commotion. Bridget swore under her breath, before turning back to Blake with a plastic smile.

"Sorry, big brother," Bridget cooed, and stuffed both food items into her back pockets. "But, early birds get the worm." With a wink, Bridget turned for the beaten down door - but she wasn't getting away that quick. On the way through the doorway, Blake shoved her out and snatched the crackers, before slamming the door closed.

Bridget didn't cry, no - she wouldn't. Then her face would puff up, and her make-up would run, and she couldn't waste make-up. At the bus stop, Bridget leaned against the stop sign, and watched as Tristen walked up with his bag. Dang it - she had left her bag at home.

"'Sup, Bridge? Where's the bus?" Tristen snapped on another gum piece, and nodded his head at her. Bridget nodded back, and held her hand out for a piece of gum, too.

"Nothin' much, wha'bout you?" Bridget slurred, and popped a green stick of gum into her mouth. The acting began now, and poor, pathetic Bridget was gone. As if his question was answered by the heavens above, the bus growled and sputtered about, and squealed to a stop in front of Bridget.