Prologue.
Everybody starts somewhere, we all have to crawl through the dirt before we can take off and fly. This might just be my opinion but I think that where we start leaves its mark on each of us, a tiny watermark that everyone else can see. It's like you're lightly dusted with the place you were born in.
Maybe corn silk is in your hair, and deep blue skies tint your eyes or the scent of shopping malls cover your clothes and your hands are made to perfectly clasp a Star-Bucks cup. Sometimes, but only sometimes, the place you come from molds you so much that anywhere else just can't compare.
Where I come from, everybody is original, being a Barbie doll is a taboo, no one can be trusted, and nothing is ever how it seems. Welcome to my home town. Welcome, to Fabulous Las Vegas.
CH1 more like a background story then an epilogue
Looking in the mirror I noticed how my dark brown eyes were lined in a way that made them look Egyptian and for some reason made me look like a gypsy. It was one of my favorite looks. I tried to make sure that my hair was behaving, but trying to get thick curls to behave is like trying to get a prostitutes make up off with a paper towel and some dirty water. I forced my hair to cover as much of my cheeks as I could. I hate my cheeks; they are way too big and have this babyish effect that makes me look twelve. I love all of my face except my cheeks, I love my eyes and how they change color, my lips, full and always slipping into a flirty grin; I love my forehead and its scar that somehow manages to draw attention back to my searching eyes and I even love my nose. I just can't stand my cheeks. My cheeks got me the nickname 'chipmunk' when I was in elementary school, a name that tormented me for five years. Even now just hearing the word chipmunk I feel like crawling into some small hole deep underground and blasting 'born this way' while chopping off all my hair and surgically removing all of my features until I'm nothingness. I studied my face in the mirror. My eyebrows where high and dark with worry, my eyes were wider than usual. I tried desperately to get my expression to relax back into something cheerful, but only managed to get some sort of surprised expression out of my efforts.
"Ugh! This won't do."
I tried to glare some sense into my reflection, but all that did was make me look like I had a giant stick up my ass.
I wasn't sure how I felt, I love this school, and this was my last year. Everything had to go perfect this year, no exceptions. I decided it was time to go out to the bus; I couldn't make school start any slower. I mean I always loved school, even when I was failing it. It was being at home that sucked. I always needed to escape from there, always felt trapped in my room. I was always with nowhere to go. No way to get out. No escape. Home wasn't the place for me. Home was all yelling and anger and the constant worry that I've done something wrong. Home was stressful and quiet and structured to the point of breaking. School was laughing and confidence and most of all an escape. At school I could be who I am. I could act how I wanted, say whatever came to my mind, and be anyone's friend. That's why I didn't want school to end. I wanted to go back in time and be a junior again, maybe undo a lot of mistakes from last year. Stop myself from going down the wrong road. This year has to be different; I have to make it perfect. I shoved my earphones in my ears and went to wait at the bus stop. I had too much to think about before I got to school. I didn't want anyone distracting me. Not even my friends waiting at the stop. I waved to Porcelain and forced a smile at her.
She was one of my best friends; she stood there in a purple lace gothic skirt, stripped green and purple knee high socks, and a lacy black corset shirt. Her black hair hung attractively around her flapper-esque face and her makeup was done up around her blue grey eyes in a way that made her look cat like. I raised my hand and pointed to my left ear and she lifted her chin in understanding. She knew I wouldn't be social until later. Right then I felt like one of those kids who could easily drop off the face of the earth and have nobody miss them. I felt anti social and full of over emotional teenage angst, the world was my enemy, but I'm supposed to be giggleZ right now; GiggleZ, who's a strong charismatic and easy to love girl. She's the girl who can kick your ass and then comfort you while you cry about it. The girl who can never stop laughing and is so easily distracted that she became the school's first group hopper. She's a girl who the whole quad knows because she can't help but walk around and talk to everybody. Right now though, I'm not giggleZ …..I'm just Jessica.
Just another average girl, whose life was messed up far before it was her chance to make her own choices,
Everyone looks past her, because she never makes a sound.
Silence rules her tongue but her mind is always screaming.
She is always looking for a way out, but is always trapped by circumstance.
Intentional circumstance with an unintentional start.
Can you blame her for being so weak of heart?
A girl who almost doesn't exist, who no one pays attention too, a girl trapped inside her head, locked inside her room.
Jessica's….well… my, back story, is so full of lies that even 'I' am not quite sure how I started out. I've been told so many different variations of one story, but I can tell you what I'm sure of. I'm sure, that my mother and father were both slaves to a little pill, a little pill containing artificial meth. I'm not entirely sure, that my father quit while Tina (me madre) was prego with me, but I am sure, she only pretended to. I'm relatively positive, that my grandma was going to be babysitting, but refused to give me back when Tina showed up with her pupils blown out so big that if you got too close her, her vacant stare would suck you deep into her own personal hell. I was left, left with a horrible case of diaper rash that had gone unnoticed for weeks, left with 3 bottles but no lids, left with no car seat, (even though I was driven there) and not even one change of clothes, most of all though, I was left without a mother. She left me.
My grandma immediately filed for custody and she got it. My mother dearest just couldn't clean up for me. My sperm and egg had visitation rights, which they abused. I would be promised a visit from my mom; I would stare out the window all day, waiting to see someone who loved me. A beautiful woman who would take me into her arms and make me feel safe, secure, whole. I would wait patiently, sitting still and searching for my mama. All day, from the moment I woke up, to the time I was told I needed to go to bed. I would stare out my bedroom window while lying in bed, hoping my mommy would show up with some reason as to why she was so late, but she would never come. I would fall asleep fighting to stay awake and wait for her. Trying to think of reasons why she wouldn't come. Reasons why she would forget me, her only daughter, and the person she claimed to love the most. I would finally fall asleep that night and have dreams that I could never remember, dreams that would leave me screaming myself awake in the middle of the night. I would scream and cry and kick and thrash my way out of bed. My grandpa would have to grab me and hold on to me until I calmed down, making sure I didn't break something, or hurt myself. This went on for some time, they would rarely ever show, I stopped being told when they were supposed to come.
Then at age nine I was dragged into a court house not really understanding what was happening. All I knew then was that the walls were an ugly faux wood, and that the judge sat high above me, staring down from his perch like an old tired vulture, not quite sure if what he saw was food but too lazy to find out. I was officially adopted. My mother and father cut out of my family line. Cut out of my life, without my permission, without me really understanding why. Whenever I had seen them they swore they would take me home with them next time they visited. My mom promised me things, said I was her angel baby and that I would return home soon. My dad had brought me a giant stuffed cow. I used to stare at that cow and try to make it sink in that I would never see either of them ever again. I tried to understand that I had been given away. My grandma was now my mom, my grandpa my dad. (This is where the family line gets complicated. Okay here it is, my grandfathers first wife gave birth to my father while his second wife gave birth to my older brother and then adopted me. So I'm not related to my grandma at all and my brother would be my uncle but now he's my brother and my father is my half brother. Not to mention all my father's kids are now my nephews instead of my brothers. Get it? Don't worry if you don't, I don't even get it half the time. I'm basically my own aunt.) That's how Jessica Anne came to live with her grandmother and grandfather. Sound's happy yes? It's not.
The bus jolted to a stop, swaying forward and then pausing before the begin of a slow motion shift backwards like in a movie where someone is falling off a cliff in slow motion then speeds up as the character realizes their going to die, the motion jerked me forward then sloshed me back. I snapped from deep within my mind back out to the real world. I saw the greenish almost dead grass type stuff of Chaparral High School's lawn and immediately felt at home. I grinned a grin that rivaled that of the Cheshire cat, who was I kidding? I am the one and only giggleZ, I can do whatever I set my mind too, be exactly who I want to be, because giggleZ is fearless.
"Let's get off this bus before those loudmouths eat us?" I gestured towards the front of the bus where the group of girls who shouted every word sat.
"Well if it's between school and being eaten by noisy bitches….. Okay let's go!"
"Dude! I wonder what classes I'll get; I hope it's not four math classes like Godzilla said it would be"
"Why would you have four math classes?"
"Cuz I suck at life? I don't know I failed freshmen algebra and I need two math credits this year to qualify for that stupid millennium scholarship witch I don't even want! I'm getting out of Vegas as soon as I can!" (Millennium scholarship catch= you have to stay in Nevada for school)
There were people pushing around us as we headed towards the quad area in the center of the school, I linked arms with Porcelain so that we wouldn't get separated by the pushing and shoving of the people who were in such a big rush to run us over. Some of these girls looked about ready to stand on the street corner, tight miniskirts and extra low cut tops. Some of these guys look like they don't know how tall they are because their pants only come up half of their thigh.
"Bleh. You think they'll ever learn how to dress themselves?"
"Who?"
"Those boys with their boxers hanging out like a 'enter here' sign"
Porcelain burst out singing the 'I'm a wigger' song "I'm a wigger! I don't need to be seeing your but crack especially not that fat guy's crack!"
I stared at her for about .5 seconds before I burst out laughing, throwing my head back and giggling hysterically relishing in the feel of laughter in my lungs. This is what freedom feels like. This was my home away from house, my escape from the melancholy and the dull, the seconds that drag on like hours and the yelling that echo's on forever in my mind.
We emerged from the hallway into the quad. The quad was the giant rectangular outside area that we were confined to at lunch (not counting the library and the cafeteria) in which you could find a whole assortment of different social groups intermingling with each other. (INSERT LABLED PICTURE HERE) We walked to our normal starting spot under the group hopper tree. "JESSICA!" I had little to no time to react before I would find myself face down in the ground so I quickly dodged to the right and spun around to face my potential glomper. When I turned I saw my faux daughter Christina running to where I just was. Figures she was one of the few people who regularly ignored my 'don't call me Jessica' rule, but I loved her anyways. "Christina! OH MEH GEE! I missed you!" and the shouting war begins, I would soon be shouting similar things at different people as they reciprocated the same shouting right back. The quad's noise level steadily rose as more and more teenagers poured in from wherever they came from, it was almost like the building sound wave was egging everyone on, pushing us to maximum volume to see if any of our speakers would blow.
I hugged Christina and we parted ways off in search of some other person we haven't seen in months. My eyes scanned the area; they were well trained in this area, knowing exactly where to glance for the location of certain people. I felt like a tigress in her hunting grounds, immediately honing in on my prey. "Porcelain there's crystal wanna go say hi?" With that we sashayed off in her direction, avoiding eye contact with the freshies as they walked around clinging to their old middle school friends, trying to figure out where they fit in the grand scheme of the quad.
My home room was bland to say the least, white walls, rule posters, and a teacher's desk that had no touch of personality to it. The students desks were all arranged in straight rows facing the empty white board. The home room teacher was pacing back and forth in front of the board; she was dressed in a conservative and inconspicuous style, her tan skirt flowing past her knees and not an accessory to be seen. Her hair was done up in a tight pony tail and her glasses where simple and unattractive. When she finally did speak her voice surprised me, it was soft and every syllable dripped with kindness. "good morning everyone, I am miss Chartris" she smiled, her whole face lighting up bringing some interest to her features. "As you all of you upperclassmen may already know, you only come to this class two days a year, to get your semester schedules, however I can't hand them out until the intercom says it's okay" She sat back down at her desk and started shuffling through some papers. I hated this part of home room; time would always drag on until the principal would come on and say every teacher has their papers in order and can now pass out schedules.
My eyes wondered up and down the vacant walls looking for imperfections or anything at all to focus on before mind numbing boredom set in. I glanced around at the students stuck between these four walls of dullness; I recognized a few, but no one I really wanted to talk to. Everyone else was off in their own la-la lands staring blankly out at nothing eyes unfocused and limbs unmoving. It was almost like being in a school themed grave yard, if there was such a thing. "Attention students and teachers, welcome to Chaparral High School's new school year, it is now time for you all to find out what classes you shall be enjoying for this semester." The dead body's shifted to attention and Mrs. Chartris stood up with a handful of papers, and put a piece and a pen down on the desk in fro not her. "Now when I call your name come up calmly and sign this paper" she gestured towards the desk, her long fingers uncurling in a strangely graceful manner.