Page 32 of Bad for You

“You look a fright. Go get cleaned up. I will call for you in an hour.”

She turns to leave with no further explanation.

Leaving the house is not a common occurrence, especially at night.

But I know better than to argue because when Gianna speaks, it’s an order.

My fingers glide over the silk ruffles of my ball gown.

It’s hard to believe this is me who stands in front of the mirror. I’ve never worn anything like this before. But when I entered my room and saw the red dress on the bed, it was clear Gianna had something big planned.

She gave me no direction on how I was to present myself. She never has.

What I see on TV about girls my age getting ready for milestone events such as prom or birthdays is so foreign to me.

They look so happy.

Their smiles are so big.

But I can’t feel what they do because I do not know how.

I know something is wrong with me. Perhaps I’m broken to be without feeling.

But when I see them laugh and cry, I feel absolutely nothing. I want to experience this rainbow of emotions, but I cannot.

I step closer to the mirror, leaning forward so my face is inches away. I burst into staged laughter, wiping away my imaginary tears. I force myself to feel…something.

But I don’t.

I use my fingers to tip my mouth into a wide grin, hoping to express something remotely human.

But I look like a fraud.

Only when I release my mouth do I feel myself.

I’ve not mingled with peers because I’ve been homeschooled. I don’t leave the house because I have everything I need here. I don’t have any friends, bar Cat, but that’s by choice because Idislike people. I watch them on TV, and their exchanges look like so much work.

I don’t know how to laugh and gossip about boys or do makeup because I just don’t care about trivial things that mean nothing to me.

The friendships I read about or watch play out in movies seem so fake. There’s so much drama, and all for what? From what I can see, most people don’t like each other and only formulate friendships because it seems to be society’s way of acceptance.

I don’t want to fit in.

I just want to be me.

If that makes me a freak or a weirdo, then I would rather that than be someone I am not.

My long brown hair is loose, and my makeup is light.

I have Gianna to thank for my simplicity. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and she is without makeup or fancy hairdos.

Her confidence is all the wardrobe she needs.

The strapless red dress has a sweetheart neckline that pinches at the waist before ballooning into many layers of tulle.

It’s rather extravagant, making me wonder where we’re going.

I have two minutes to spare as I slip on my heeled knee-high boots. With nowhere to carry my blade, I have hidden it inside.

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