A/N: The only way to describe this is random. I'm not totally happy with it, but that's okay. I really want honest feedback for this, so be kind and review. I much appreciate reviews. This is Emma-centric. One-shot.

Upside Down

Sometimes right before I go to sleep, I lie in my bed and close my eyes and pretend I'm spinning in circles so fast that I don't even have a second to think. I like it that way—not having a chance to think. I've always been the thinker, the one with the answers. Now, I couldn't even answer my own questions.

It was kind of like one of those rides in those amusement parks—up and down, so fast and slow that you'd never know which was going to come next. Sometimes I'd think that my life couldn't get any duller, then it'd take a sharp turn and I'd be flailing my arms as I sped downhill so fast there wasn't time to blink. I was never good with spontaneity and surprises.

I didn't have to do slutty things to be talked about. I seemed to have that down pat before the gossip started once everyone found out what I did with Jay. I was either protesting or organizing nature walks or leading a cause group. My name was pretty much already known school-wide. I think it's when your old reputation dies and you obtain a totally new one that people start to really look down on you. Manny Santos, for instance. My ex-best friend. It's amazing how now we still have something in common. You would think that we'd be able to rekindle our friendship, have a slut boding, maybe even a party. But she can't even stand to look at me.

She says I'm being selfish, that I have no heart anymore. Maybe that's true. Or maybe I just beat her to Jay. I wonder if I should take it as a sign and show some repentance, but all I can think about when it comes to her is how much she had hurt me in the past.

I wonder when things will start to fall into place again, because I really hate this loneliness. I h ate not having girls' night with her and my mom like we used to. My mom doesn't even want to have girls' night with me anymore either. I don't blame her. I mean, mothers are clueless. Finding out your only daughter—your precious baby who used to worry more about winning a science fair than what she wore to school the next day—was hooking up with a guy she barely knew after having being held at gunpoint by the school psycho must've been pretty hard. As far as she knew, I was fine. I am Emma Nelson, after all. I'm always supposed to be fine.

I wonder how I had become so cold and emotionless. I guess it just happens over time when your own parents are disappointed in you and think every time you step out of the hosue you're going to run off and sell your body to strangers, when your old friends can't even stand breathing near you, as if you're a disease they're afraid to catch, when everyone else seems to have a life and you just screwed yours up, so you're all alone to cry at night and pray that tomorrow might bring some hope.

I think that's how.

I reach over and grab the stuff panda bear that Manny gave to me in grade six. It's one of the only stuffed animals I keep on my bed, because I'm too much of a baby to put it away. I know I should, because our friendship had definitely reached the end. The two of us used to never be seen without the other, but now it was like we were living in two different galaxies.

I lie flat on my back and hold the stuffed animal up, noticing how the white of the bear had faded to a tacky off-white. I close my eyes and imagine myself spinning again, the bear still up in the air. My eyes open slowly, and I look around my room seeing if anything changed.

Nope.

I place the bear next to me, and turn my light off.

When I wake up the next morning, the panda is lying idly on the floor. I get out of bed and as I walk past it, I yawn and kick it under the bed.