Dolores J. Rising
Eric's graduation party was simple and enjoyable - for everyone but me. I sat there sulking in the corner of the tent dad had set up in the backyard. Everyone else stood around and talked, or maybe snapped a picture. Some of my brother's friends were there, including Elisabeth, even though they just broke up. I reluctantly ate a slice of ice cream cake as Grandma Rising talked my ear off, asking about school and if I had a boyfriend yet. I did my best to look her in the eye and think of something decent to say, but no matter how hard I tried, my gaze kept wandering back to the paper plate.
Written by Darlene R.
Dolores sat solemnly on the couch. It was only six o'clock at night, yet she was already in her pajamas, hand-me-downs from her brother. A pair of old boxers and some t-shirt of a band she didn't like.
Dolores flipped around the channels, hoping for something decent on TV. There were alot of re-runs during the summer, though summer was almost over. In just under a week, she'd be starting her junior year.
An imitation of teenage drama flashed onto the television. Dolores sat back and took a breath. At least, to her, it was educational. Though at the same time, the antics of Angela Chase and her So-Called Life were nauseating.
Angela was fifteen-year-old and on her way, riding on the wings of her friends and in the back of Catalano's car. Dolores, on the other hand, would be eighteen in the spring and hadn't even started to find her way.
Dolores had yet to even experience her first kiss.
She pressed the OFF button on the remote, staring at the blank screen. As usual on the summer nights. There was never much to do. It was a rare occasion, however, that her mother Helen had the night off. She could hear her fumbling in the kitchen, preparing the homemade meal of the week.
Some kind of hamburger casserole. From a box.
Dolores lay back on the old red sofa and stared up at the ceiling blankly. It had only been about two weeks since Eric left for college in Vermont. But it felt a lot longer. Eric was all she ever had. He was the only one to hold her hand when life got tough, and for Dolores Rising, nothing ever came easy.
No one outside the yellow house on Sumner Avenue seemed to understand her. That despite her lack of friendships, how she tried so hard. Or why it had taken her so long to tie her laces or ride a bike.
Even at the age of seventeen, she still wasn't too confident on her bicycle.
She knew the neighbors heard her screaming, every stupid fit of rage that sometimes she herself didn't even understand. Or the noises she made at school, sometimes, when she felt nervous or alone. Or how a person so articulate, so intelligent, could sometimes be so stupid.
How none of it was her fault, for the most part. That she was born this way.
And in a mere five days away, she'd be back in the walls of White Oak High School, at best ostracised, and at worst, tormented. Though she did have to admit, since she started high school, her peers had been more indifferent. But even without the pushing, the taunting, or having her lunch box smeared with dog shit (which had happened in sixth grade) Dolores had to say - the indifference was almost worse.
"Lo, dinner's ready" called Helen from the kitchen. Dolores got up and off the couch.
"Just five more days."