I yawned as the light of morning hit me moments after the blare of my alarm clock. Fumbling, I managed to cut off the screaming demon and relax into peace again. The peace wouldn't last long. That had been the third or fourth time I'd hit the snooze button.
"'M up," I muttered, and the previous day quickly jumped into my mind. I had a cat. I had a new cat. I'd always wanted a cat. Now I had a cat. Laughing at my one-track mind, I sat up, letting the sun from the floor-to-ceiling window on one side of my bedroom hit me like a wall of light. I felt more alive instantly -- not that a shower couldn't raise my alertness a notch. School. Had to think about school, even if I did have a new cat.
I felt vaguely guilty. What if it had belonged to someone? Oh well, I reasoned. Careless to let the cat wander in a parking lot without tags anyway. I knew there could be other explanations for it being loose there even if it did have a caring owner, but my excuse made me feel better.
Where was the cat, anyway? I opened the doors of my huge closet and saw it lying there, blinking up at me with its cool green eyes. For a moment, I wondered how a cat could get into a closed closet...
"Ohhh, did I shut you in there?" I dropped to my knees and lifted the cat, who I'd titled Hawk, into my arms. "I'm sorry, kitty."
It purred softly, and I determined that it was in a forgiving mood. Something about this whole thing felt wrong, but I attributed it to the fact that I'd gaily snatched a cat out of a parking lot and adopted it within a few moments. My parents didn't care, of course. My parents didn't really care about much.
They had money. They had much money. Thus, by the laws of the household, so did I. But they made that money by working constantly, and they weren't home that much. Fine by me. I liked the freedom.
"School," I told the cat, scratching the side of its chin. I brought the little bundle of joy downstairs and quickly fixed it a meal. Chicken would do until I had a chance to pick up actual cat food. I'd do that after school. I berated myself -- should have done it last night.
Leaving the cat to its food, I jogged up the stairs back to my room. When I finished my shower and picked out an outfit, refreshed and awake, I sat down on my bed. The standard wave of loneliness hit me. It always hit me in the mornings. Something about looking out my window, seeing all the beauty of the city and the sky, that moved me somehow. I wanted someone to share it with. Stupid, huh? I didn't want to wake up alone. That was what it came out to. I didn't want to be alone.
But I wasn't really alone, or at least I wouldn't be by the time I drove my sportscar to the school. There were always two or three of my friends waiting for me, and Keith was always there too, with his multimillion dollar smile and the arm ready to reach around my shoulders. I looked forward to that. I had friends, and that was what mattered.
Keith was what mattered.
I headed downstairs and out the door. No need to say goodbye to my parents. They knew where I was going, anyway. I slid my key into the ignition, feeling the engine rev as the flashlight on my keychain jingled against the dangling keys. I rolled one window down and let my elbow hang slightly out of it. With practised ease, I slid my sunglasses down over my eyes and straightened my hair.
It was all an act, of course. All a diseased, ten-minute photo shoot, the drive to the school being one long pose for anyone that saw me. I was beautiful. I didn't get high off the fact, most of the time, but I knew that if I looked... different... more than half of my life would change, be suddenly and irrevocably missing. I was confident and self-assured, but only because I saw that girl in that rear view mirror and knew that she was gorgeous. That I was gorgeous.
Sometimes I wonder. Would my friends still be my friends if I was five inches shorter and pudgy? Would Keith still be waiting with a grin if my hair was frizzy and out of place? Would every guy in the hall try to make eye contact if my teeth were wearing braces when I smiled? I guess I don't wonder, really. I know. I know it wouldn't be like this.
But I don't care. Because it is like this, and that's all that matters. Or so I tell myself when the sportscar leaves the three-car garage and speeds out onto the road. And maybe, maybe if it's a good day, I can deceive myself a little, too, and convince the skeptic in my head that Keith would look at me the same if every outfit wasn't the latest in designer fashion. But you deal with what is, you know?
All the same... maybe I'm a little nicer to the "nobodies" of the school than the others of my clique. Maybe I'm not as bitingly sarcastic to the girls with faded skirts they've been wearing for three years. Maybe I'm not as cold to the wannabe-popular kids trying out for the teams to make a name for themselves. And maybe that's because I'm jealous, because the kids there have real friends, and if people care about them now it really is because they see them, not...
I think too much. Everyone's always said it and I've known it's true. I analyze everything and I don't take the good at face value. There's always a catch.
I noticed a fly buzzing around the window of the passenger side. I rolled it down sympathetically, now getting a crossbreeze from my open window to that one, but to my surprise, the little insect didn't take its exit.
After leaving it open for two miles and watching the bug stubbornly cling to the position it had taken as soon as the window had rolled open, I shrugged. "Your loss," I informed it, pulling into the parking lot. "Starve in there. Fine by me."
I checked my watch. Right on time. The fly zoomed out behind me right as I closed the door. Apparently it had changed its mind after all.