mermaids of surburbia
chap 2 -> As I sat there absentmindedly chewing off the dead skin flake son my lips , I thought. Fuck him. Who needed him?? He was a jackass. I didn’t need him. My friend Lily walked over, strutting her non-existent hips like she was some kind of Egyptian goddess, and sat down next to me. “Hey. What’s up?? Studying for that test tomorrow?? God, I hate MR. Slate. What a lame ass.” “What??” I said a bit too loudly, clearly distracted, thinking of some other agenda and possibly, a life I never had. “I SAID, Is not MR. Slates a lame ass?? He always hits on me too. As if he has a chance with me!! Come on. “ She said, rolling her eyes and applying a fresh coat of lip gloss to her lips. I nodded absentmindedly. “I heard there’s a party at some kids house tonight on State Street." Lily told me. "What are you doing to tonight??” She asked. I thought. “Nothing, I guess. Who’s going to be there??” I asked, not that I was interested, just because I liked to pretend (believe) that I could go somewhere and have fun and not be reminded of my fucked up life. But wasn’t everyone fucked up around here?? Face it. I lived in Hell. "Oh, nothing but the whole school!” She said “And plus,” She smirked “I heard that guy Taylor is going to be there. That boy is fine! I’d like some of that.” Taylor? Some guy she liked. I assumed. I stood up and gathered my books. “I might come. Pick me up at nine. “ I once read in a magazine how there are places (families) where people actually talk to each other. As in, you know, converse. At my friend Ashley’s house, (she lives in the city) the whole family sits together at dinner, and they seem too friendly and supportive of each other. Personally, it makes me sick. What an idea! At my house, everyone stays to them selves. They learn to take care of themselves and to pretend, (when guests are over, to be normal and laugh.) You fend for yourself in my house. Fake laughs. Fake normality. Were not normal. I’ve always known that. But it’s how we are. I always believed everyone was like this. But we were fine like, this never talking and minding our own business. We didn’t need change. But I was wrong. Things will change. Things always change and move and weave and run, around your head like strands, and you are powerless to stop them. Sometime something will happen to you that will change your life. Wait. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ As I walked in side, I promptly walked in on my Dad jacking off on the computer to some kittie-porn site. My dad disturbs me. As usual, he acts like this was unplanned, like he’s embarrased that I walked in on his pathetic shit. "Have a nice day at school, honey??” He asks me, zipping his pants as he clicks off the screen. He’s still sweating. I try not to vomit. As if he cares. “Fuck off. “ I say, laying my bag on the floor and heading upstairs to my room. “Don’t be so harsh honey. “ He hisses, coming up after me. “ you know you want some of this. “ I turn and stare at him. “Dad?? You know what??? Go fuck the dog.” I close the door in his face and roll my eyes. Talk about lame . My dad never gives up. Someimes, just sometimes, I wish for a moument I was normal. Later, as I’m getting ready for the school, I hear my mom come home. I tense up as she walks up the stairs. I’m standing in front of the mirror, buttoning my shirt as I she walks in. ‘Honey…..where DID you get that shirt?!” She exclaims, obviously. As if I should know why this particular shirt disturbs her so. I tired to think. “Uh, old navy I think. Mom. Why?” She clicked over on her over-priced “Italian” leather (what’s the difference between Italian leather and American leather?) high heels and clucked her tongue. “Honey, that shirt is ugly. It makes you look well, “ She paused. “heavy.” I sighed. Here she goes again. “Honey” se began “You see, it’s very important for a girl to look pretty so that boys will like her. You don’t want to end up like Aunt Mae do you, sweetie? She just sits around all day and feels sorry for herself because she doesn’t have a husband. “ She clucked her tongue again, commenting on some flaw in my shirt none else saw. “ but I always said, didn’t I always say honey? That if she paid more attention to her clothes…maybe wore some makeup…she’s very attractive I always said, but – “Mom! “ I almost screamed. Please make her stop. She’s so pathetic. “I have to go to school, alright??“ She looked a bit taken aback. "Alright, honey. I’ll meet you downstairs to give you your lunch!” She finally clicked away, leaving me free for just a minute. God I hated my mother.