In A Heartbeat

1

They always said that high school will be the best four years of your life, and for some, that might be true. However, for me, high school had been nothing but a living hell. In three, I had manage to become a marginalized pariah.  That is what happens when you make the wrong choices, choose the wrong people. 

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I wished I could rewind the clock and choose differently, but there was not a time machine nor was I a time traveler. I knew I would have to live with my mistakes. I fixed my bangs one last time with a sigh, "Just ten months." I was determined to make it until May with just keeping my head down; I refused to have any more distractions.

I grabbed my backpack, not wanting to keep reminiscing on the past, and walked to the kitchen. Porter, my oldest brother, leaned against the counter with a coffee in hand and cocked his head to the side. "Don't you usually dress up on the first day of school?" he asked, eyeing my hoodie and sweatpants. He had every reason to ask; ever year I made sure to leave an impression: hair, makeup, nails, cute clothes. This was a complete one-eighty:  hair twisted in a clip, hoodie, sweatpants, and tennis shoes, but to be fair, I wasn't the same Stella Sawyer I was the previous years.

Nathan, my other brother, chuckled, "She's channeling her inner gym teacher." Our youngest brother Wyatt snorted at the comment and gladly gave Nathan a high five when offered.

For being so far apart in age, Nathan and Wyatt were super close; I guess it was the same way with Porter and me. All of us were oddly gapped in age: Porter was twenty-seven, Nathan was twenty-two, I was seventeen, and Wyatt was ten. It was a chaotic household for sure, but Porter kept it in order to help out Mom. For being my brother, I looked up to him a lot. I was sure Wyatt did the same for Nathan even though he was a less than perfect role model.

I flipped Nick off while answering, "Yes, but I have lost the motivation." I looked at Nathan, "Also, that was a lame ass joke."

"Stella Elise, language," Mom called from other room.

"Sorry, Mom!" I called out.

Porter shrugged, "I get it." If there's one thing about Porter, it would be that he really did get it. Any issue I had, I could always count on him to listen and understand. There would be no judgement whatsoever in any situation. He set down his coffee as a car honks from outside and opens his arms. "I assume that's Emma. I hope you have a good day."

With an eye roll, I gave him a hug before calling out a goodbye to Mom. Today was going to be the start of a new chapter of my life. Today was going to be the start of me putting myself first. No more parties, boyfriends, fake friends, or lies. I was going to make damn sure of that.

Emma waved excitedly as I walked over to the passenger side of her car. "Hey, bestie," she said with a smirk, knowing that I hated that term.

I grimaced as I put my seatbelt on. "Please don't," I said.

She placed her sunglasses on her head as she took in my appearance. "Stella, what the actual fuck are you wearing?"

My eyes traveled from her head to her new clothes: hair freshly lightened, makeup perfected, new crop top, nails done, and brand new mom jeans (an "Emma staple" as she called them). "No, the question you meant to ask is 'What the fuck am I, Emma Mathers, wearing?' You know they're going to dress code you so fast for that top, right?" I replied sarcastically, not wanting the criticism.

Emma always ensured that she was memorable. Her appearance was one of the most important things to her; however, her musical talent was a close second. We met in the middle school band, but I ended up dropping out to pursue creative writing while she went on to become the school's musical prodigy. Luckily, we were so close to each other by the time I left that we stayed best friends. Despite our differences, I couldn't imagine having anyone else fill that role.