After dinner, while the boys were reading, I went up to the small
bedroom Doc and I shared to go to bed. I took my hair beret out and
watched my long, blonde hair fall to my lower back. I gazed in the
mirror and sighed.
"He'd never love me," I murmured, studying my features in the mirror.
Doc hated me, plain and simple. No matter how much I tried, it was
pointless.
I ran a finger down my jaw. I thought I was fairly pretty with my blue
eyes, my long blonde hair, pink lips, and red cheeks. I was very
slim and very pale.
I glanced at Doc's journal on the dresser. I'd always wonder what he
wrote about, always sitting away from me and the other boys. I picked
it up and, carefully, opened it.
I read through several poems, but I only found interest in a few.
Sorrowful
Aggravating
Daring
Dramatic
Irritating
Energetic
I laughed at seeing what words Doc could come up with about me, but
read on. I found one crossed out but it was still legible.
Your blonde hair falls to your waist
You tend to do everything in haste
You always seem like you have no clue, but still I love you
Your lips are the color of a rose
In your hair are always bows
You always smell sweat, yet you never keep your things neat
When I see you, my heart shatters, like nothing else in the world
matters.
I shook my head after reading the poem. I heard the doorknob twist and
hurriedly put it away.
"Hey Doc," I said, smiling.