Diana (Z.M.)

Chapter Four: Sticks and Stones

Chapter Four

Diana's P.O.V. 2010

      I hate school. School is the only time I ever go into a world outside of my dead end street. However, every time I enter it it seems as if everyone points out every one of my flaws. Even the ones I've never seen before; they mercilessly acknowledge them. This is the only thing I can think of before I prepare for hell. 

      Staring in the mirror, I look away after observing my drab school uniform. I don't want to look any longer. If I do, I will only start crying. I hate my body. Everything was way too bloated. My arms and legs are so stubby. I'm a walking oompa loompa. The only difference is I'm not bright orange. I might as well be. It is probable that even then, I wouldn't get so many stares and looks of disgust.

       "Diana, are you ready? We need to go!" My mother reminds me, standing at the door of my room. She used to knock but she doesn't anymore.  According to her, she is my parent and has access to this room whenever she wants to enter. This is also why I don't have a door. I guess her 'all access pass' means no privacy. This makes no sense to me but I'd never tell her. Like always, my silence would save us a whole lot of time. 

       "Yeah mom, I'm ready." I reply, slinging my old backpack over my left shoulder and grabbing my Algebra text book. Swiftly, I flip my light switch off and follow my mother to the truck. As I load into the vehicle, I exhale in exasperation.

       "What's wrong?" Mom asks cranking up the truck. I mumble a quick 'nothing' and buckle up instead. Like I have said before, avoiding the whole topic of school or the people inside of it makes everything go smoother. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if my mom would even believe me if I told her what really goes on there. Maybe, she would actually believe me. She could go to the school, tell the principle, and suspend every kid who have said those things to me.

      But, she could not believe me and call me a drama queen as she always has. She would exclaim again that I should become an actress. Most importantly, she won't even care about this even if it really is happening to me. 

      Yeah, staying quiet is best. 

      We journey to the school in mutual silence. The only noise made is the slight drumming of my mother's fingers against the worn leather steering wheel. This is something else I am used to. The only conversation we ever have in the mornings is whether or not either of us had a good night's sleep. This would usually lead to my mother talking about some strange dream she had then me nodding along in false interest. Now to think of it, a lot of aspects of our relationship are fake.

      Why even bother to change now?

      I remember when we used to be close. She was my most favorite person in the world. I felt like I could have told her absolutely anything and everything but that changed in the fifth grade. Nothing has been the same sense.

      The old truck rattles to a stop as we pull into the middle school. Inwardly, I groan. I may not like my home all of the time. However, it gives me shelter that this stupid school never has. At Lake Monroe I might as well walk around naked. That's how exposed I always feel.

      "Have a great day sweetie!" My mother yells from the interior of the rickety pick-up. With that, she steps on the accelarator and speeds out of the parking lot, leaving behind a puff of gray exhaust. Behind me a loud cackle breaks out. 

      "Have a great day sweetie!" A girl mimicks. Her vivid green eyes lock with mine and a devious grins is spread wide on her mouth. Averting my eyes from her, I turn my head and enter the school hallway. Let another day of hell begin.