A Girl Called Whisper

One

Today I opt for some inconspicuous black jeans, a white polo-neck shirt which is a bit big for me, but they didn't have it in my size, and the stupid mini backpack. For the record, I am an uninteresting size S. Not quite man enough to reach M, yet not quite measly enough to be XS. Silver linings, my friend.

I put on my generic Nike trainers and head down to breakfast. I wish my school had a uniform, it would make every morning so much more time-efficient with one less thing to worry about. The other school in our town has uniforms. Fancy-ass blazers and ties and even a goddamn crest-embroidered book bag, can you believe? Everyone at my school calls them Posh Twats, and I've noticed the kids from there always cross the road away from us on the way into school in the mornings. This is dumb - they should try to hide their discomfort about our presence. It makes them easy targets for after-school tussles, which happen frequently. (Obviously I don't partake in these tussles, just hear about them. Why would anybody want to spend any time with people in town after school has ended?) One time, one of the fights got so huge that police were called and had to break it up, they turned up in riot vans and everything. It was all anybody was talking about the next day. I like to live vicariously through overheard snippets of conversation from everyone else, so this was a pretty big deal at the time.

Every morning I have toast with Marmite on it. I don't know why, I just really, really like Marmite. Enough to have it every morning of my life and not get bored. Also, if I'm running late, I can spread it super quickly and just run out of the door, toast in mouth, though Mum nags about me doing this. She thinks it's rude to not sit down for five minutes with the family every morning. My family aren't the most exciting people on the planet, so if I do skip breakfast, I don't feel too bad about it. I doubt I miss out on any jaw-dropping, life-changing conversation. No cures for cancer or global warming solutions will be lost on me.

Now don't get me wrong, they're good people and all. My Dad is funny and intelligent, and I really look up to him a lot. He teaches me new words when he does his morning crossword and I'm pretty sure I have him to thank for my reasoning and logic. He works for a delivery company, but I'm not too sure what he does. (He's told me several times, but I forget. A sure sign that I'm not due to follow in his footsteps and make it a family business.)

He wears a tie to work though, so he's probably relatively important as far as delivery jobs go. Of course, you can have an important job without a tie. See: Doctors, chefs, sailors. But I like how ties look - smart and respectful. Unless you're a door-to-door salesman. Or a politician.

My sister is already at the table. She's four years older than me - twenty. She has long dark hair and big brown eyes and her name is Bella, which means 'beautiful' in Italian. My sister is beautiful, and all the boys in my class fancy her. I'm not sure how I feel about this. On one hand, it's gross, and I hate hearing them say vulgar things about her. On the other hand, I get a lot less shit in my day-to-day life because they somehow respect me for having a hot older sister. It makes no sense, but I don't dispute it. If having an attractive older sibling somehow gets me higher on the social ladder than poor old John Everist, I'll take it.

I get on well with my sister, but we don't really hang out together. This suits me, because her friends aren't the type of people I'd choose to spend my time with. To say it kindly, they're a little goddamn moronic.

The boys all look a little like well-groomed aliens with a shit-ton of gel in their hair and the girls all use abbreviated words like 'totes,' which makes me embarrassed to even listen to. Even Bella speaks like that when she's around them, though she drops the act when it's just us at home.

They make me feel uncomfortable as I'm not sure how to speak to them and I feel like I don't belong. This makes me sweat. You will notice sweating is a frequent occurrence in my miserable life, and it's boring and gross but it's part of who I am and as long as I keep wearing deodorant it's not like it's hurting anybody. For the record, I use the 48-hour dry protection stuff. And yes, I have a can in my mini backpack, alongside my anxiety tablets and whatever sandwich Mum stuffs in there for the day. Dad says it's all down to hormones, but I know it's to do with my feeling uncomfortable. I let him think it's hormones. He says it all proud as if he's finally getting his very own, size Small, man-child.