The Bright Side of Darkness

Six

She gives my shoulder a light jab with her fist. "Shut it, you dummy." Her hand grips my arm as she pulls me toward my room. She leaves me standing by what feels like my bed as her footsteps disappear into my closet.

Lottie, as my sister, is my go-to person now when I need to wear something that actually looks good. I run my hands through my hair twice, hoping it looks okay as I wait for her to form a presentable outfit.

"Here. This should be fine." She throws something at me, and I catch it with one hand.

It doesn't really matter, anyway. I don't have anyone to impress anymore, and I doubt Emori cares how I look. Everyone else sees me the same way. A broken charity case. Someone who needs to be 'protected.'

I wait for Lottie to leave, then quickly get dressed and head outside to wait by what I hope is Emori's car. I run my hand through my hair anxiously.

I'm a few minutes early, and even though I could walk up to Emori's house, I don't want to. I haven't been in that house in years. I'll probably just trip over something, anyway.

"Hey," she calls as she steps outside, the wood on her porch echoing her steps. Her keys jingle in her hand as she makes her way over to me. "Ready to go?"

I nod. The sooner we get to the party, the less my nerves will skyrocket. Lottie drives me to and from school, so other than her, I haven't been in a vehicle with anyone else since my parents drove me home from the hospital. This will be a huge change, but I trust Emori.

"So, what are parties usually like?" Emori asks after we climb into her car and begins driving.

I shrug. "Nothin' special. People hang out and drink. Some people like to play games. Others start drama." I always took parties for granted. Used to find them fun, even. But now that I think about it, there isn't anything special about them. We used them to celebrate victories, to cheer ourselves up after losses, or just to have something to do. They're just a way to pass time before school starts up again on Monday.

"I guess they make parties sound more amazing than they are."

"They try."

I've never seen Emori at parties, and I know she's never been to one. Never thought she was the type. I'm still not sure she is. But she's trying to break out of her shell, and I can give her credit for that. She just doesn't need to get mixed up with the popular crowd. It's not meant for someone as pure as her. One moment you're at the top of the food chain, and the next, you're on your ass at the bottom, wondering what happened. The second something goes wrong, you're either less popular or more popular in the wrong ways. That's not a good place for Emori.

I'd give anything to see her smile again. Whenever she smiles, it's like there's not a care in the world. But that smile only existed in elementary school, back when no one cared about popularity. All other times it was clouded by insecurity and timidity or forced, to show she was happy even though her eyes said something different.

"I don't like the attention, you know," Emori said, startling me.

"What?"

"I always thought being popular and pretty would be amazing. But... after today, I'm not sure that's the best thing for me." Something clicks against the steering wheel, and I assume it's her nails. She always loved getting her nails done. "I wanted revenge. Revenge on everyone who'd insulted me or made a joke about me. But now I'm not so sure."

Revenge? Revenge was what made her do this? It makes sense, but I wish that wasn't the case. Words are powerful, and she knows that better than anyone. Words are powerful enough to make a girl who seemed so at peace with herself bust her ass to achieve the body society makes her think she needs to have. The determination and commitment that kind of action takes is more than I thought was possible.

"And Travis. Man, I can see how he gets into so many girls' pants. He acts like he's oh-so-nice, but he treated me like crap for years." She sighs and the tapping stops. Silence settles in the air for a bit until she sighs. "That's not entirely fair. I should have expected that when I made the decision to lose weight."

"But you shouldn't have had to. Just because someone weighs a lot doesn't mean they're not beautiful."

She doesn't respond. I'm not sure she's even paying attention to what I'm saying anymore. Maybe it's the fact that I'm the only person who's ever listened to her. Falling into the routine is a habit. One that I enjoy.

"Thank you," I say before I can stop myself.

"For what?"

"For just... treating me like I'm the same person." Everyone else either doesn't talk to me or talked slowly as if they're afraid I'm going to yell at them.

She waits a moment before responding again. "But you are the same. The only thing that's changed about you is your eyesight. You're still the same on the inside, no matter the scars on the outside."

Her words stop me. She said the words I needed to hear but hearing them feels better than I expected. Maybe everything isn't so different, after all.