Suddenly, a brilliant idea flashes into my mind. Maybe I can get out of laundry duty after all. “I was actually throwing up practically all night last night, my sheets are ruined.”
“Oh no!” she cries out. “Sweetheart, should I tell your father? What time is it in Tokyo?” So dramatic. Then she starts scuttling around the kitchen, probably looking for her cellphone.
“No, no! I promise, I’m okay. It’s probably just the stress of finishing high school. It’s a pretty big day, after all.” A shitty and unnecessary day if you ask me, but I keep that to myself.
“And your father’s not here.” She pauses where she stands, and I notice her gaze softening beyond the curtain of my hair.
“It’s alright, I’m used to it,” I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s just the realization that I’ll have to leave home soon must finally be hitting me.”
“You have nothing to worry about, dear, the University of Bologna is one of the leading institutions in the world. I’m sure you’ll make new friends there. It’s your chance for a new life.” Her optimistic tone intensifies the nausea, and I push the bowl of oatmeal away before I can throw up over the entire island.
Still, I have to admit Betty has a point. Maybe she’s right. Maybe my failed suicide attempt isn’t as tragic as I thought. Maybe going to Italy and getting away from my father will be good for me. A new start, Betty said? Maybe that’s exactly how I should see it. No one knows me there, maybe it’ll be a chance for me to develop a new identity for myself.
In a way, Bellcolor Fermi really did die last night. And in her place Belle – as I’d rather be called – was born.
“You’re right,” I tell Betty. For a housekeeper, she’s insanely smart. Not that I’m disrespecting her job, it’s just that I was given high education my whole life and turned out to be dumber than her. My father would regret depriving me of the chance of gaining ‘street smarts’.
“Lovely, dear, maybe try having a bite to eat?” She tries to push the bowl of oatmeal towards me, but I hurriedly get to my feet and back away from her like she’s on fire.
“No, I'm having Marcus take me to school early. I’ll get some coffee and a pastry from Starbucks or something.” Before I run outside, I come back and hug Betty tightly. “Thanks, Betty, for everything,” I whisper to her and take off, my unusual show of affection leaving her frozen in place.
On my way to the graduation ceremony, Marcus stops at Optica and I buy some black colored contacts, and all the added accessories.
We also stop at Starbucks, and I get myself some mocha and a blueberry muffin, but quickly change my mind and toss them away when the nausea threatens to overcome me again. If I weren’t a virgin, I’d think I was pregnant. And if I were religious, I’d think the Holy Ghost visited me last night and knocked me up itself. Ridiculous, isn’t it?
I stand in the long line of students waiting behind the scenes for their names to be called so they can get their diplomas, and I shift uncomfortably. Damn it, why am I even stressed? There won’t be anyone in the crowd cheering when my name is called, not unless Marcus decided to sit in the audience even though I didn’t ask him to. That could actually be nice.
My thoughts drift elsewhere during the long speeches from our principal, our class teacher, and Kelly, the head of the student council. Good God, what could they possibly be babbling about for so long? You’d think each of them had just won an Oscar and was reviewing the great success of their lives.
I let out a frustrated breath and notice Trent Gibson, the most popular boy in school, staring at me. I raise an eyebrow and he givesmea smile that’s all teeth. I look around, thinking maybe one of the cheerleaders is standing behind me, but it’s just me and my classmates, who are busy with their own business. Did Trent Gibson really just smile at me? Okay…
I look away and feel my face heating up.Fuck, be cool, Belle.I gather up the courage to look right at him and notice that he’s still staring at me with that smile of his. You know, the panty-moistening smile from the school hottie. Why the hell is he givingmethose looks? Doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something? Oh, right, his girlfriend is on stage right now giving the speech of her life. Trent, as it turns out, is a cheater. But why me? I review my look – I’m wearing the graduation robe over my dress, like all the other graduates. But unlike them, I’m swimming in my gown.
Even the smallest size looks like a sack on me. My hair’s sloppily straightened, and I’m not even wearing makeup. Seriously, I look like I ran away from the Amish, what’s up with him?
I come to my senses when one of the students, next in line after me in the alphabetical list, pushes me forward, and I realize there’s a large space between me and the person ahead of me.
“Sorry…” I hurry to close the gap.
From time to time I sneak glances at Trent, whose eyes are still fixed on me. My whole body tingles under his hawk’s stare, and it makes me almost unbearably uncomfortable. Is that what it feels like to be seen? How do the popular kids stand it? And why is the letter G so close to F in the alphabet?
“Bellcolor Fermi!” the principal announces over the microphone. I leap from my spot and scurry to the stage to get my diploma. There’s scattered applause, probably out ofpoliteness, since despite my hope Marcus would be in the crowd, there’s no one there for me.
I force myself to smile politely as I take the diploma from the principal and shake his hand. I move on through the faculty, shaking their hands and hurrying off the stage to take my place in the rows reserved for the graduates who’ve received their diplomas.
The rest of the ceremony passes quickly, and some of the students throw their caps in the air and immediately are scolded for it. The only exciting thing about graduating high school has been forbidden at our school after a student hurt her eye and the school got sued for a huge sum.
Okay, I survived. It’s behind me. I let out a long breath and carve a path for myself out through the excited crowd, here to see their children get these useless certificates that cost a fortune. I wonder, how much money is standing between these walls right now?
Probably quite a few million. A grain of sand on the beach for my father.
When I finally see the exit, something yanks back my robe and I turn my head to see what’s pulling it.
Trent.
Fucking breathe, Belle, don’t be weird,I scold myself as a surprised lump of air wedges itself in my throat, and an awkward silence lingers between us for far too long.
“Hey, Bella,” he says. Did he just call me Bella? The teachers always used my full name. And I personally prefer Belle.