My mother and I sat at the big, wooden dining table, staring at overcooked pasta and slimy salad that was probably weeks old and smelled like a dead rat's butthole. Please don't ask how I knew that, but unfortunately, I did.

My mom wiped her brows and cleared her throat as we looked up from our plates. "I'll order pizza, I guess," she finally said as a sigh escaped my plump, pouty lips.

"I'll find the phone, Mom," I groaned, jumping from my seat. My mom didn't say a word as I searched the kitchen.

There were only about two phones in the house since the other two broke, and they always went missing for some weird reason.

Her eyes followed mine to the useless pieces of paperwork and junk on the island next to the kitchen table.

   I was getting the feeling that my mom was a hoarder. She would get rid of some of this stuff with any luck, but no, my dead stepdad cursed old things that she refused to get rid of for some strange reason. It was as if it attached her to the son of a bitch. He did more damage than anyone I had ever known. I couldn't wait until the day when she just got rid of all of his stuff. Looking under a pile of dust and files, I found what we were looking for as I swatted the air.

"Mom, we need to keep better track of our phones," I said, holding it up with my right. Her eyes shifted to the stack of paperwork and piles of junk.

"Maybe we can clean up the house this weekend?" she replied, rising from her seat and pulling the phone gently from my hand. "That's if you're going to be here," I retorted, furrowing my eyes. She patted my back for comfort as I took a deep sigh.

"I know, it's just...." She thought for a moment, cleaning her lips with her tongue. "I have a long, late-night shift at the hospital, and you know we need the money." It was hard watching my mother so saddened as her eyes dropped, but there was nothing I could do without getting her fired, and it was a tragedy how much I knew that was the truth, so I didn't argue.

"Are we ordering pizza?" I finally asked, slamming back down onto the chair.

"Chinese takeout?" she laughed.

✽✽✽

Dinner seemed to have gone by so quickly, and after I cleaned the tables and helped with the dirty dishes, I took a shower. I stood in the mirror, staring at my naked reflection.

I dragged my hand along the stretch mark lines on my stomach. Some of them seemed to have faded, but most were still there.

I reminded myself that I used to be a thick bitch. It was a hard memory to stuff down; I pulled myself away from the mirror as a tear ran down my face. Turning on the hot water, I slipped in.

The water felt warm on my skin, and the soap felt like butter. Yellow shampoo squirted in my hand, and I lathered it to my scalp. The last drops of the conditioner squished into my palm. I stood in the shower for two minutes before jumping out, one leg after another. I threw a towel over my head, shook my hair, and dried off with another towel.

I grabbed my black jeans from the sink and pulled them on. I threw on a grey shirt and a leather jacket and grabbed my brush. Usually, my hair wasn't too tangled, but it was a bird's nest that night.

I pulled at my hair effortlessly and released the brush at the tips of my matted hair. I grabbed my mascara off the counter and pulled and plucked at my eyelashes until they were the length I wanted. I stared at my imperfections in the mirror. My nose was a bit too big, my eyes were too deep brown, and my lips were too small, but I was still beautiful.

I headed toward my closet and grabbed my black high tops and socks. They slipped on with ease. I grabbed my black flat-billed hat and snapped it on my head.

Walking down the stairs, I saw a picture of my mother and me when I was younger. When everything was OK, my real dad was in the picture. Sometimes I wish I could go back to those days.

I glanced at my stepfather's picture, and my jaw clenched tight.

I counted the stairs as I walked down. I couldn't look at those photos anymore. They weren't my favorite memories, and I couldn't stand the sight of my stepfather anymore.

"Mom, I'm going out," I yelled, entering the kitchen. I walked toward the counter and pulled open the cookie jar.

"Mom, I'm taking twenty dollars," I yelled again, grabbing a hand full of bills out of the pot. I stuffed them in my back pocket and headed towards the front door.

I grabbed my backpack off the floor and pulled my keys from the front pocket, tossing them in the air. I threw my bag over my shoulder and caught my passes. I took a deep breath.

"OK, here I go."

✽✽✽

"Shit," I mumbled, hiding behind a bush. It had to be Cece and her crew. Just great. I tiptoed around the bush, trying to avoid noise. I was usually good at these kinds of plots.
"So, what are the movie times?" I leaned on some random strangers' shoulders, walking into the theater. His hoodie concealed his face, and he leaned against a wall.
"Oh, hey, Emily."

"Mother fucker," I mumbled. It had to be him. It just had to be him.

"I'm sorry. Were you looking for someone else?" Aaron asked.

"No! Hide me," I whispered, looking over at the apparent Cece gang. Chanson laughed.

"From them?"

"Yep." I grabbed his shirt with my thin fingers, dragging him behind a booth.

"Hide and seek?" He deadpanned. I gripped his shirt firmer. He cringed. I whacked his shoulder hard.

"Shut up." Cece rolled her eyes and looked our way.
"Oops." Aaron pulled away from my fingers.
"Oh, look, it's Emily," Cece cooed. Her posse followed as she made her way over.

"Who's the dork." She snorted. Aaron didn't seem offended at all. Instead, I defended my little dignity; unfortunately, he did, too.

"Look, I just came out to have a good time. If you can't have that, maybe you should leave. Cece laughed.

"Me, leave? That's hilarious."

"You're the one who should go." Brennon upheld her.
"Stop this!" Aaron chimed in. "One of these days, she's going to overpower you. One day she will be president of the school, and this year she will be prom queen," Aaron exclaimed. I was smacking my forehead on an imaginary wall and feeling defeated.

"What?" Cece purred. Just when I thought it would be over, things got worse. "I can't believe the nerd just said that; wait, I do." Cece slapped each of her squadron's hands.
"Wait, did you think you could make prom queen? That's not an option, sweetheart," Cece cooed provocatively. I wanted her to wrap it up, but there was more.

"Please let me know how everything works for you in this year's school elections. I'd love to know." Cece's grin grew, her eyes glued to mine.

I charged from the movie theater without another word, tears streaming down my face. Cece won again. No surprise there. I was just a big fake.

"Wait," Aaron trailed behind, and I sped up my footing pace. I made it to my car before realizing I had dropped my keys. More tears engulfed my eyes, and my mascara ran.

"What do you want, Aaron?" I grumbled, wiping a stray tear away. He caught up with me. His breath tickled my cheeks with each exhale.

"Don't listen to them. Cece and her group are just bullies."

"And I'm not?" I argue my point.

"Well..." he hesitated. "You're different. I can tell."

"And you're a dork." I criticized. He looked into my eyes, taking cautious breaths. Our fingertips brushed, and I couldn't pull away.

"Look, I know something about you they don't know. A secret that would ruin your reputation." My breath caught in my throat. I didn't dare look into his eyes. It was a death wish.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"What is what?" he asked, fingering his hair.

"What's the secret?" I growled. He smirked. I sniffed my leftover tears back as he spoke.

"I can't tell you, or it wouldn't be a secret." He recoiled towards Cher.

"It's my secret," I mumbled. Maybe Chanson was bluffing? Perhaps he knew nothing about me.

"Cool car. You're into the classics?" he asked. I nodded; my eyes never met his. He held out a pair of car keys in his hand. It baffled me.

"I also believe these are yours."

"You've been stalking me?" I snorted. My keys dangled at the tip of his index finger.

"Now, that's my secret." I rolled my eyes, snatching my keys from his finger.

"Uh..." he urged. The door pulled open, and I slid in. I revved the engine. He watched me with an eye roll as he walked off. I pulled out of the parking lot without another word.