Am I Pretty Yet?

Chapter Three

This chapter has been edited 07/28/16. 

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"You know it's spring when girls start making those stupid posters for formal," Faith grumbled, shaking her head. We were in the library for our free period. My math notebook was splayed out before me, and I uncapped a yellow highlighter to box an important equation I really needed to memorize.

"Hm?" I asked, mumbling the equation back to myself. Faith snapped her fingers in front of my face, making me move back in my chair. "What?"

Faith laughed in disbelief. "Do you ever stop studying?"

"Yes," I said, closing my notebook to prove it to her. She narrowed her eyes at me, smirking.

"I can hear you thinking math in your head."

I sighed, slumping down in my chair and crossing my arms. "What do you want from me?"

"To reply to my current topic," Faith declared. Mrs. Briggin shushed us from her spot behind her desk. She buried her head back behind her computer, clacking away at the keys. Faith lowered her voice. "Spring formal. Lame posters. Girls asking boys."

"I think a girl can ask a boy to a dance if she wants to," I replied, gathering my books and placing them into my backpack.

"I know that. I'm just saying that I wish they were more inventive. I've seen too many posters declaring 'Will you be the petals to my stem?' or 'Will you be the fries to my burger?'"

"Fries to my burger is kind of clever," I said, zipping up my backpack. "The petals one, not so much."

Faith got up with me from the table and followed me into the A-G shelf section. "Would you ever ask a boy?"

I sighed in satisfaction when my fingers fell upon the spine of a book that I'd been searching for. Flowers for Dummies. "With this face? I don't think so."

As soon as I removed the book from its position on the shelf, I narrowed my eyes and peered into the now empty space, spotting Leslie with her back against a bookshelf, her arms wrapped around Harrison's neck. I quickly placed the book back into its place, the back of my own neck heating up.

"What's up with you?" Faith asked, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of a handbook on golf. I shook my head.

"Nothing. Let's go."

. . . . 

Quickly whipping the black apron over my head and tying the ends around my waist, I took a step into the greenhouse. I inhaled the sweet scent of floral perfume and dirt caked leaves. Mom stood towards the back of the greenhouse where the roses were kept, observing five pots of soil. She frowned at them, switching them around. I waltzed up to her and she lifted her chin at me, smiling for a change.

"Nina," she said, pulling me in and kissing the top of my head. Then she pulled away from me, raising her eyebrows. "You're late."

"Sorry," I sighed, tightening the hair tie on my pony tail. I really did need to buy a new set of them. "I missed the first bus, and the next one didn't come for another fifteen minutes."

She turned to look at the pots once more, switching the pot at the end with the pot in the middle. "You could always call your dad for a ride. He lives just near the high school."

I let my hands slowly fall back down to my sides, swallowing. "No, it's okay."

She stopped switching the pots around, staring me straight in the eye. It was at moments like these where I wondered why on earth my father would abandon my beautiful mother. Simply because of me? Because of a baby and the responsibilities you have to take on as a dad? When my mom faced me directly like this, I could see how green her irises were, like emeralds. Her cheekbones popped out at just the right angle, and her eyes were shaped like almonds. She had a heart shaped face, with slightly round cheeks and a pointed chin. No receding hair line, not that there should have been one since she was only thirty five.