Rolling Dice [sample]

6: Rolling Dice

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Chapter 6

Don’t judge a book by its cover.

That’s what people always say. Like it’s a law to live by or something. But does anyone actually ever really listen?

In my case, nobody ever listened.

We all do it, though, I guess. You turn your nose up at the mangy cat by the Dumpsters, or you think that guy in his Prada suit with his Rolex and a BlackBerry plastered to his ear is some snooty businessman who thinks he’s better than you.

People know not to judge a book by its cover.

But people also say it’s important to make a good first impression.

Which is exactly why I spent almost my entire weekend trying to decide what to wear on my first day of school.

The suburbs around here are all the higher end of middle class; big houses, pristine front laws and shiny cars on the driveway. I get the feeling a lot of the kids around here have fairly rich families. But Midsommer High is a public school.

I kind of wish it was one of those schools that made you wear a uniform. You know, the kind of school you have to pay to get into, where the science teachers are all ‘Doctor’ or ‘Professor’. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry endlessly about what the heck I was going to wear on my first day.

I never used to worry so much about what I wore to school. I mean, there was that one year when I did try, after I lost all the weight. I made an effort to look good, to show everyone that I wasn’t Fatty Maddie anymore.

Needless to say, it didn’t work – nobody noticed, and if they did, they didn’t care.

Monday morning, I get up an hour and a half before school, so I can do my hair and put on a little makeup, and still have an hour and twenty minutes to decide what to wear.

It’s hot out, and humid. I’m so glad for once that my hair is the kind to hang limp and flat rather than frizz up, because with the humidity here, I’d practically have an afro otherwise.

I pick up a pair of white denim shorts, but hurl them back into the closet. White isn’t the safest color. I’m not even sure why I let Mom buy me those shorts.

What were the other girls going to wear? What if I was too dressed up? What if I wasn’t dressed up enough? What if what if what if?

Mom knocks at my door and pokes her head in.

“You’re up early,” she says, but walks in and puts a mug of herbal tea on my nightstand.

“I have nothing to wear!” I cry in frustration, tugging at the ends of my hair.

Mom takes in the clothes I’ve thrown back into my wardrobe and the ‘maybe’ pile scattered over my bed… And she laughs.

I grit my teeth. She’s so not helping!

Then she tells me, “I never thought I’d hear you say that, Madison.” But she sounds almost… well, she sounds practically proud when she says it.