"Wouldn't it be funny to invite McGuire and Sanchez?" That's the
first thing she said when I picked up the phone.
"To what?," I snapped, still nipped with bitterness.
"My parents left this morning; my grandmother is dying or something," Claire said carelessly.
"I'm still not following, Claire," I flipped through the TV channels lazily. I decided today was my vacation away from it all. This brought me in front of the tube, sporting an avocado face masque and bingeing on potato chips. Soon to be thrown up, of course. Some things you never vacation from.
"I'm having a party tonight," She replied, as if it was obvious.
"Why?," I questioned. Of course it was clear. Why NOT have a party? High school was (for us) all about having has many parties as possible.
"Katie, don't be a dumb ass," She said witheringly. "Come on. come over at 6 and we can set up. It'll be fun."
"Why don't you ask Ethan?," I said bitterly. "You seem pretty hot to trot with HIM." Ethan and I weren't on best terms at that moment.
Ethan did have a childish stupidity to him, which made him perfectly attainable, just.. annoying as hell. It came to the point where a popular boyfriend wasn't worth having to practically baby-sit your boyfriend. McGuire could have him, for all I cared... well, of course, I didn't want her to; that would make her way too happy.
I'm not quite sure why I like to make Lizzie miserable so much. She's a perfectly nice person; in fact, I once was friends with her. So what happened?
"Oh, Katie," She sighed, sounding almost like a friend. "What kind of loser dates her best friend's ex?"
"I guess your right," I sighed too. "I'll be there."
"Good. See you, girlfriend." I listened to the dial tone as "Three's Company" came on TV.
I wish my life was like an old TV show. Every problem solved within 30 minutes, only with the occasional to be continued. Everyone's attractive, and if they're not, they at least are funny and get some.
I felt my powdery green face. It felt stiff. I hated the powdery feeling. I could only feel my body heat under the shield of green. It was the same feeling with my foundation. I loved to wash all my make up off and feel real skin.
The water was cool against my skin. I gently splashed the crystal droplets on my face, the green washing off onto the rough terry cloth. I looked in the mirror.
In my reflection, all I could see was me. There was no blush, there was no powder, there was no lip stick or mascara or eye shadow. There was only a sixteen year old girl, terrified of what was to become. I dried my face and looked at her more closely. She wasn't beautiful. Not beautiful enough.
I grabbed my make up bag furiously off of the floor and began to painstakingly apply it. There was something wrong about not being transformed into some fairy princess. Or rather, a fashion model.
"Hey, honey," I almost stuck the mascara wand into my eye from shock. I turned to see my mother leaning in the powder room doorway. What was SHE doing back?
"M-Mom?," I tried to act like it was no big deal. Like I didn't care. But I loved my mother so much.
My mother is a very spontaneous person. She's a sort of..butterfly, you might say. Around other people, she wears elegant clothing and dines on French cuisine and white wine. But around us, she's so..FREE. She wears jeans and T-shirts and her laugh and smile are so REAL. I almost hated her from envy. Beautiful and true.
"Daddy is still in Tahiti," She smiled sadly. "Business is booming. Anyway, they didn't need the little housewife along, so I thought I'd come back and see how my girl was doing all alone." She wrapped her arms around me and my heart melted. No use giving her a guilt trip. I had no power over my mother, as much as I wanted it.
"So, anyway, I was think maybe we could go out to lunch," She smiled. Lunch. With my mother. Wow.
"Um.," I found myself trying to find an excuse. Why? It's what I wanted, wasn't it?
I always got what I wanted. That's just how life started to work. It was around seventh grade that I started a new fixation with being spoiled to the core. My parents started traveling around that time too. A lot of things happened in seventh grade... a lot of firsts that are important for a girl of my stature. My first kiss, my first bra, my first perm.. That type of thing.
Lunch. That was it. Lunch involved eating. Eating food in front of my mother. Eating a LOT of food in front of my mother. Eating a lot of food and running to the bathroom to throw up..in front of my mother.
"Katie, come on," She pecked my nose. "It'll be fun." Fun. Ha. Sure.
"Why not?," I smiled my glorious fake smile. I can think of five reasons right now.
"I'm starving," She grabbed my arm. "Let's take the convertible." Of course, we had options. I always had options.
Wind combed our hair as we rushed down the street. Well, combed her hair rather; mine stayed stiff with mousse (A/N: Is it moose with hair stuff, or mousse? Oh, well). That's how her hair worked. Combed with salty sea air in waving grace. She was trapped, like me; trapped into this materialistic view point. And yet, she was different. She let herself see the real her. The lip gloss seemed to have gone to my head. My reflection was no longer me.
Not that I mind. The real me, the weak, scrawny thing, would never do the things I get away with. The Real Kate would never scratch a girl's make up off. The Real Kate would never throw up her food. The Real Kate would never leave her friends to die in social lowliness.
"How about here?," Mom yelled over the rushing winds as we pulled into a diner parking lot. I stared at her blankly. It was a big silver..BOX. Not exactly classy. Not exactly the place I would be found with my MOTHER. Oh well.
A bell jingled as we strolled in, looking like goddesses compared the locals.
I didn't enjoy going into the public with my mother alone. Everyone thought we were sisters. Yes, she was the gorgeous older, more natural sister. I looked like I had been attacked by paint. Besides, I don't like being the less attractive one. Sure, flock with beautiful people, but always be the most beautiful of them all.
"Hello there," A 20-something guy grinned at us from his dorky uniform that he was swimming in. "May I seat you?" May I kick your shins? I found a great dislike to him immediately.
The moment I meet someone, I make my grand judgment. You can tell much of a person just by the way they present themselves the moment you meet them. They way they speak, the expression on their face; it's all a big charade.
"Isn't this night, honey?," Mom asked excitedly, sliding into a red cushioned booth. I nodded, but didn't mean it. A cheap little diner wasn't exactly a field day for me.
"What can I get for you, ladies?," The annoying guy returned with a huge smile painted on his face a few minutes later. I noticed he had a little tasteless hat glued to his head. It looked like a hot dog bun or something. I smiled silently and cruelly up at him. His smile faded slightly.
People are often intimidated by me. I have this sort of aura of power about me, dominating and stepping on those who deserve it. Weak ones. There's something very irritating (and yet amusing) about people who are so humble and meek. It's almost fascinating, those people who put others before them. Don't they realize their human? Don't they know that deep down all we really want is stuff for ourselves? Obviously not.
"I'll have.. A chocolate milkshake, a burger, a side of onion rings, a side of fries, and um.. A cup of clam chowder," I said decidedly. Mom stared at me blankly. I don't even like clam chowder. "Does that come with a salad? Great." I rolled my eyes at him as I handed him the menu. "Yeah, bye."
"I think we'll have to take some of that home," Mom laughed. She was obviously shrugging it off as a teenager thing.
"Yeah," I said quietly, close to spilling my guts. I stared at my place mat in utter loneliness. I wondered what brought this sudden emotion, but I shrugged it off.
A milkshake, a burger, a side of onion rings and fries, two cups of clam chowder and a salad later, my stomach started to rebel. I gripped my abdomen tightly, feeling the familiar rising feeling.
"I have to use the ladies' room," I said to my mom in my most cheerful voice, hoping I could contain myself a few moments more. My heels clicked on the linoleum once again as I pushed into a cubicle. Shoving my perfectly manicured finger down my throat, the unpleasant feeling rushed towards me, gagging and regretting. I always regret. But I just flush it down. I leaned my blonde curls against the cubicle wall and listened for anyone coming. I felt a sort of empty feeling in my stomach now, but not from the food.
My heart always broke (though I'll never admit it) when I watched people try to fill their lives with food. That empty feeling you mistake for hunger comes so often now, I've given up. Kate Sanders NEVER gives up. She pokes and shoves and pushes and kills until she gets her way. You can't give up now!
But I did. I gave up my life. I gave up my life to the toilet.
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
A/N: Eh, I'm too lazy to thank you all. Who really cares what Author's Notes say anyway? Everyone hates them. It's like "GET TO THE STORY!!!" but too bad for you. I like talking your ear off and taking forever to update. Not. Love you all, kisses, yeah.
"To what?," I snapped, still nipped with bitterness.
"My parents left this morning; my grandmother is dying or something," Claire said carelessly.
"I'm still not following, Claire," I flipped through the TV channels lazily. I decided today was my vacation away from it all. This brought me in front of the tube, sporting an avocado face masque and bingeing on potato chips. Soon to be thrown up, of course. Some things you never vacation from.
"I'm having a party tonight," She replied, as if it was obvious.
"Why?," I questioned. Of course it was clear. Why NOT have a party? High school was (for us) all about having has many parties as possible.
"Katie, don't be a dumb ass," She said witheringly. "Come on. come over at 6 and we can set up. It'll be fun."
"Why don't you ask Ethan?," I said bitterly. "You seem pretty hot to trot with HIM." Ethan and I weren't on best terms at that moment.
Ethan did have a childish stupidity to him, which made him perfectly attainable, just.. annoying as hell. It came to the point where a popular boyfriend wasn't worth having to practically baby-sit your boyfriend. McGuire could have him, for all I cared... well, of course, I didn't want her to; that would make her way too happy.
I'm not quite sure why I like to make Lizzie miserable so much. She's a perfectly nice person; in fact, I once was friends with her. So what happened?
"Oh, Katie," She sighed, sounding almost like a friend. "What kind of loser dates her best friend's ex?"
"I guess your right," I sighed too. "I'll be there."
"Good. See you, girlfriend." I listened to the dial tone as "Three's Company" came on TV.
I wish my life was like an old TV show. Every problem solved within 30 minutes, only with the occasional to be continued. Everyone's attractive, and if they're not, they at least are funny and get some.
I felt my powdery green face. It felt stiff. I hated the powdery feeling. I could only feel my body heat under the shield of green. It was the same feeling with my foundation. I loved to wash all my make up off and feel real skin.
The water was cool against my skin. I gently splashed the crystal droplets on my face, the green washing off onto the rough terry cloth. I looked in the mirror.
In my reflection, all I could see was me. There was no blush, there was no powder, there was no lip stick or mascara or eye shadow. There was only a sixteen year old girl, terrified of what was to become. I dried my face and looked at her more closely. She wasn't beautiful. Not beautiful enough.
I grabbed my make up bag furiously off of the floor and began to painstakingly apply it. There was something wrong about not being transformed into some fairy princess. Or rather, a fashion model.
"Hey, honey," I almost stuck the mascara wand into my eye from shock. I turned to see my mother leaning in the powder room doorway. What was SHE doing back?
"M-Mom?," I tried to act like it was no big deal. Like I didn't care. But I loved my mother so much.
My mother is a very spontaneous person. She's a sort of..butterfly, you might say. Around other people, she wears elegant clothing and dines on French cuisine and white wine. But around us, she's so..FREE. She wears jeans and T-shirts and her laugh and smile are so REAL. I almost hated her from envy. Beautiful and true.
"Daddy is still in Tahiti," She smiled sadly. "Business is booming. Anyway, they didn't need the little housewife along, so I thought I'd come back and see how my girl was doing all alone." She wrapped her arms around me and my heart melted. No use giving her a guilt trip. I had no power over my mother, as much as I wanted it.
"So, anyway, I was think maybe we could go out to lunch," She smiled. Lunch. With my mother. Wow.
"Um.," I found myself trying to find an excuse. Why? It's what I wanted, wasn't it?
I always got what I wanted. That's just how life started to work. It was around seventh grade that I started a new fixation with being spoiled to the core. My parents started traveling around that time too. A lot of things happened in seventh grade... a lot of firsts that are important for a girl of my stature. My first kiss, my first bra, my first perm.. That type of thing.
Lunch. That was it. Lunch involved eating. Eating food in front of my mother. Eating a LOT of food in front of my mother. Eating a lot of food and running to the bathroom to throw up..in front of my mother.
"Katie, come on," She pecked my nose. "It'll be fun." Fun. Ha. Sure.
"Why not?," I smiled my glorious fake smile. I can think of five reasons right now.
"I'm starving," She grabbed my arm. "Let's take the convertible." Of course, we had options. I always had options.
Wind combed our hair as we rushed down the street. Well, combed her hair rather; mine stayed stiff with mousse (A/N: Is it moose with hair stuff, or mousse? Oh, well). That's how her hair worked. Combed with salty sea air in waving grace. She was trapped, like me; trapped into this materialistic view point. And yet, she was different. She let herself see the real her. The lip gloss seemed to have gone to my head. My reflection was no longer me.
Not that I mind. The real me, the weak, scrawny thing, would never do the things I get away with. The Real Kate would never scratch a girl's make up off. The Real Kate would never throw up her food. The Real Kate would never leave her friends to die in social lowliness.
"How about here?," Mom yelled over the rushing winds as we pulled into a diner parking lot. I stared at her blankly. It was a big silver..BOX. Not exactly classy. Not exactly the place I would be found with my MOTHER. Oh well.
A bell jingled as we strolled in, looking like goddesses compared the locals.
I didn't enjoy going into the public with my mother alone. Everyone thought we were sisters. Yes, she was the gorgeous older, more natural sister. I looked like I had been attacked by paint. Besides, I don't like being the less attractive one. Sure, flock with beautiful people, but always be the most beautiful of them all.
"Hello there," A 20-something guy grinned at us from his dorky uniform that he was swimming in. "May I seat you?" May I kick your shins? I found a great dislike to him immediately.
The moment I meet someone, I make my grand judgment. You can tell much of a person just by the way they present themselves the moment you meet them. They way they speak, the expression on their face; it's all a big charade.
"Isn't this night, honey?," Mom asked excitedly, sliding into a red cushioned booth. I nodded, but didn't mean it. A cheap little diner wasn't exactly a field day for me.
"What can I get for you, ladies?," The annoying guy returned with a huge smile painted on his face a few minutes later. I noticed he had a little tasteless hat glued to his head. It looked like a hot dog bun or something. I smiled silently and cruelly up at him. His smile faded slightly.
People are often intimidated by me. I have this sort of aura of power about me, dominating and stepping on those who deserve it. Weak ones. There's something very irritating (and yet amusing) about people who are so humble and meek. It's almost fascinating, those people who put others before them. Don't they realize their human? Don't they know that deep down all we really want is stuff for ourselves? Obviously not.
"I'll have.. A chocolate milkshake, a burger, a side of onion rings, a side of fries, and um.. A cup of clam chowder," I said decidedly. Mom stared at me blankly. I don't even like clam chowder. "Does that come with a salad? Great." I rolled my eyes at him as I handed him the menu. "Yeah, bye."
"I think we'll have to take some of that home," Mom laughed. She was obviously shrugging it off as a teenager thing.
"Yeah," I said quietly, close to spilling my guts. I stared at my place mat in utter loneliness. I wondered what brought this sudden emotion, but I shrugged it off.
A milkshake, a burger, a side of onion rings and fries, two cups of clam chowder and a salad later, my stomach started to rebel. I gripped my abdomen tightly, feeling the familiar rising feeling.
"I have to use the ladies' room," I said to my mom in my most cheerful voice, hoping I could contain myself a few moments more. My heels clicked on the linoleum once again as I pushed into a cubicle. Shoving my perfectly manicured finger down my throat, the unpleasant feeling rushed towards me, gagging and regretting. I always regret. But I just flush it down. I leaned my blonde curls against the cubicle wall and listened for anyone coming. I felt a sort of empty feeling in my stomach now, but not from the food.
My heart always broke (though I'll never admit it) when I watched people try to fill their lives with food. That empty feeling you mistake for hunger comes so often now, I've given up. Kate Sanders NEVER gives up. She pokes and shoves and pushes and kills until she gets her way. You can't give up now!
But I did. I gave up my life. I gave up my life to the toilet.
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
A/N: Eh, I'm too lazy to thank you all. Who really cares what Author's Notes say anyway? Everyone hates them. It's like "GET TO THE STORY!!!" but too bad for you. I like talking your ear off and taking forever to update. Not. Love you all, kisses, yeah.