P h o t o #19 - Change
It would have been great to just sleep the day away. It would have been wonderful to forget about reality and slip into the vast land of my dreams. Like I said, it would have been nice. But nice things seem to avoid me like the plague, so my nap ended in a nightmare an hour later. Literally.
After jolting awake, I immediately forgot what I was so afraid of. I clutched my shirt, feeling cold sweat drenching my body. I quickly leaned over to my window, hoping the chilling autumn air will cool me off, only to come face to face with a storm brewing in the sky above.
That's not the only thing staring back at me. The reflection of my glasses-less face in the window surprised me. I had slept in my contacts! Twice!
I shook my head, not remembering when I had become so irresponsible, plucked my glasses off of my night stand where I left them and made my way out the door of my room.
Once I stepped into the small upstairs bathroom, I locked the door behind me, not wanting my grandmother to see me like this. I glanced up at the mirror, a zombie-looking girl with bloodshot eyes and runny mascara staring lifelessly at me. I was comforted by the fact that my mascara didn't run after my mental breakdown last night, only after sleeping with it on did it cause it to look like this. I would have probably scared my grandmother half to death this morning looking like I did now. Over the night it must have lost it's "non-running" effect.
I groaned. 'Now I remember why I don't wear make-up.' I thought bitterly as I grabbed a clean beige towel from below the sink and swiping some contact solution out from behind the mirror.
After struggling and poking myself in the eye multiple times, my contacts finally made their way out of my eyes, leaving them even puffier. I groaned yet again. I was already unhappy with my appearance, I didn't need to make it any worse.
Once my contacts were secured in there specific container, I moved on to my black stained cheeks.
As expected of expensive mascara, it didn't budge with just a damp towel. Letting out something between a grimace of pain and a groan of agony, I fished out some Dove soap and lathered it onto my face, hoping it would dull down the make-up's grip.
I sighed with relief after toweling my face off, the mascara had been completely removed! Success!
I gave myself a mental pat on the back for not taking a crap-ton of time to figure out how to do something this simple. I usually over analyzed things like this, especially since I've never tried to remove make-up from my face. I guess I was just used to quick thinking ever since I began hanging out with the group I did now.
After cleaning up the mess I had made, I stopped just before leaving the bathroom. Stepping back in front of the mirror, I took notice of my waves of black hair. I hadn't realized it had grown so much over the past few months, it was now almost past my breasts in length. I sighed at the sight, I really needed a haircut soon.
I made my way back to my bedroom, immediately walking towards the Trig book I left out on my desk, opened to the exact page I needed for studying. I felt my eyes dull at the thought of studying, but I didn't want my grades to suffer just because I was mentally unstable. Plus, I needed a distraction from my thoughts.
So, I did what I felt like I had to do. I sat down and studied until my eyes went sore.
***
I needlessly spent another two minutes adjusting my hair in the messy bun I had learned how to do from a DIY YouTube video I had watched the night before. Monday mornings definitely were the worst. I just coudn't get the look right, and something in the back of my head was telling me it was just because I sucked at doing my hair, not the morning tiredness that was messing me up.
And I had thought today would be the day. I checked my old flip phone that sat in front of me on my vanity and scanned the text that I had gotten from Kayla last night while I slept over and over. "I was just thinking about this, but you'd look nice with you're hair up in different styles other than the usual way you leave it. You'll have to show me sometime, I'd love to see it!" I didn't know why she had sent it at such an odd time, but I regarded it nonetheless. I had nodded at the screen when I first saw the message, imagining the happy face she'd give me if I ever did so.
Reluctantly lifting up both of my hands to my head, I undid the bun for the third time in a row, feeling like giving up. 'Why do I have to do my hair up differently anyways? Kayla wouldn't even be able to see it, and it's not like I'm trying to impress anyone or anything.' As I went to put the bobby pins and hair ties away, the memory of Elliot and I sitting together on the bench just two days ago replayed in my mind.
I shook the memory away, confused by the sudden remembrance of it. I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding and looked at myself in the mirror one last time. A newly found determination surged through me. "Okay. One last time! I can do this!" As I twisted my hair on the top of my head, I mentally wondered where the determination came from, but was interrupted when I realized I had finally done up my hair correctly.
Before letting out a whoop of success, I took my brush and shaped my bangs and some stray hairs to the side like the girl in the video had done. After finishing, I couldn't help but clap my hands together in delight. 'I guess Kayla's rubbing off on me!' I thought about the time she had worn her hair like this, after the "small" food fight in her kitchen. I pulled out a small flower hair pin that I was given by my grandmother awhile back for one of my birthdays. I admired the pastel purple flower as I watched myself closely in the mirror, making sure I would be placing it at just the right angle.
Success once again! I'm sure my grandmother would be pleased to see me finally wearing the gift she had given me.
I looked at the clothes I decided to wear today black skinny jeans and a deep red sweater that hung loosely around my torso. For a moment, I actually felt a spark of self confidence unfamiliarly ignite in my chest. I couldn't help but think that maybe this week wouldn't be so bad.
Just as I was about to get up, my abandoned laptop caught my eye. I checked the time; seeing that I had about ten minutes to spare, I started the old machine up, waiting impatiently for it to load. Once it finally did, though, I hurriedly typed in the log in address for my blog. Things have been slow lately, only about a few hundred followers had been added since the big 200,000 about a month back, and requests and questions have been even slower. I just shrugged it off, kind of upset but also a bit relieved to know I hadn't missed much. I've been checking the blog less and less lately, it seemed, and though I wasn't too happy with that fact, I did know that tests were coming up so of course I'd be busy for awhile more.
I closed my laptop with a thud as my stomach growled for morning breakfast.
I grabbed my bag off of the back of my chair and almost jumped down the stairs, only being able to imagine what my grandmother would say about the hair style that I hadn't worn in years.
***
My black leather lace-up boots clicked against the pavement as I walked to school that crisp autumn morning. As I stuffed my hands into my dark jacket, I relished in the words my grandmother had said to me during breakfast.
"Oh my goodness! You look so beautiful dear! I can finally see your face!" My grandmother had clasped her hands together, a wide smile etched it's way into her aged face as she chuckled at her last sentence that I had lovingly rolled my eyes at. My grandmother was such a sweet heart sometimes. Scratch that, she was basically a sweet heart all the time, and I loved her for it.
I thought about all of the times I had rejected her after she offered to do my hair so many times, something she had told me she loved to do for herself when she had longer hair. One day, she just stopped asking, probably already expecting me to say no. I suddenly felt bad about it, remembering how stubborn I used to be (and probably still am, just a bit), and how I would just reject everyone around me. I've definitely changed since the beginning of the school year, and I couldn't help but keep going with my changing self. Lately, not adding the sudden outbursts of dejection, I've been somewhat happier. And it was definitely because of the four boys and Kayla.
Before I knew it, I was walking up the cement steps of Riverdale High. I was so deep in thought up until now, I hadn't realized the stares and whispers that flew with the wind around me. I immediately felt my face flush scarlet. My feet rushed me into the building on their own, almost like muscle memory. I had forgotten that this new hairstyle was basically equivalent to shining a bright spotlight into my face for everyone to see. Over time, the attention from girls and guys alike died down once they realized I wasn't going to try to use the tradition for popularity (like most of the girls who are usually chosen), but now, I had pretty much called to the heavens in prayer for attention from all corners.
I didn't know why I thought this was a good idea. I hated the very idea of being the center of attention, so why did I feel the need to do my hair up so nicely today? The sudden thought of change that had just sent a jolt of excitement into my chest was now terrifying me, and there was nothing I could do in that moment to stop it.
My raging mind was interrupted when I slammed right into something solid. It took me a moment to realize I had actually bumped into an actual person during my anxiety fueled run.
My had flew to my face, grasping my glasses in midair, luckily keeping them from falling to the ground. "I'm sorry-" I began, only to lock eyes with an astonished Cooper. "Oh. Hey." I awkwardly shifted my weight from one leg to the other as Cooper seemed to just stay frozen in place, like he was off in another world in his head.
He lifted his hand and pointed at my hair. "N-New hairstyle?" His cheeks tinted pink, probably realizing how long he's just been standing there staring at me. I couldn't help but feel a touch of heat creep up my neck at the time either, flattery making its way into my head at him noticing.
I gave him a sheepish nod. "Yeah. What do you think?"
He gaped for another moment, then turned back into the usual Cooper Appollo, the one who smiles cheerfully and always has a positive outlook on everything. He gave me a thumbs up. "You look nice!"
I couldn't keep a small smile from forming on my face. Maybe this wasn't a bad idea after all. "Thank you."
Cooper stiffened up like a board. "Well, l-let's get to homeroom then! We can't get marked absent." And with that awkwardly sped up sentence, he was rushing down the opposite of the hallway to the homeroom we shared, the only class I had with only him and not the others, even if it was only about five minutes long.
I stared at his retreating body until he turned the corner, out of sight. 'I really will never be able to understand him.' I thought in defeat, shrugging and making my way to my locker.
I tried with all of my might to try and ignore the stares I got, which I could clearly see reflected in my locker mirror, but that didn't seem to stop anybody from gawking. A sigh escaped my lips. I should've known this would just bring me trouble. I never really cared about my appearance anyways, so why was the idea of putting my hair back down making me so upset?
'I always do this,' I gave myself a dirty look in my blue plastic locker mirror, causing a couple, who could evidently see my reflection from where they were standing, to tense up and shift against the lockers they we're having a moment near. I ignored their retreat though, too immersed in my own self pep talk, 'It's just a hairstyle, Emma , it won't bite. '
Once again, my eye caught a glimpse of said couple now scurrying away in the opposite direction, the boyfriend of the group glaring as he retreated, 'Times, but he might.'
A thought shot through me, giving me time to completely forget the two and goosebumps at the suddenness of its presence. 'I want to change. I want this to happen, even if I try push it away out of reflex because I'm not used to it. I don't want to be this way anymore.'
I watched as my eyes dilated at the sound of the first bell. I would have to finish this mental debate later.
I shut my locker with a loud, metallic clunk, turned on my heels, and walked down the hallway, still ignoring the eyes that traveled my way. I had more important matters to sort out with myself than to acknowledge them.