Chapter 2: Boy Bands Suck (and so do Boys and Bands in General)
It's only around eight a.m, but I'm already awake and dressed and packing for Katara's house. I have clothes and a toothbrush and all the cover up in the world. I'm smearing some all over my face right now, rubbing the powder in tiny circles. I wince slightly every time I have to touch the bruise, which sucks because it's the place I need the make up the most. This shouldn't hurt, even though it does. I should be used to it. Suck it up and deal, Bei Fong.
I smudge some charcoal black eyeliner on underneath my eyes just to please Katara. She's always complaining that I should act more like a girl and wear make up. If she only knew about the pounds of face paint I plaster on every stinking day. Maybe then she'd shut up. Oh well.
Dad left about an hour ago and mom is still sleeping. I'm free to do what I please. Since no one is around to say anything, I cook myself eggs for breakfast and spread peanut butter all over them. Usually I'm banished to cold cereal. For extra effort, I even drink orange juice out of dad's favorite mug and then hide it in the cupboard with the spices. I'll get shit for it later, but it's worth it. Don't I deserve a little revenge?
With my morning shenanigans accomplished, I set off for Katara's house. The streets are pretty quiet this early in the morning. There are a few people out watering their plants or reading the newspaper or something, but besides that there's nothing. I look up the hill towards Zuko's house. He's probably left already. Both of us always want to get out as soon as possible.
Katara isn't as rich as me and her house is much shabbier, but it's ten times more friendly. She's got a patchwork garden out front and her house is painted white with a bright blue trim. The curtains are always open and lights are always on. It feels so warm and loving compared to my house. You'd think they'd be a little more depressed after losing their mom.
I knock on the front door and wait patiently. Katara's dad opens the door, pretty cheery for an old guy at eight in the morning. Then again, aren't most adults happy in the morning? Besides my parents, but they're never happy.
"Hello, Toph," he says, moving over to let me slide through the doorway. I kick off my shoes immediately.
"Hi, Hakoda. Is Katara awake yet?"
"I think she just got out of the shower. You're certainly an early riser today."
"Yeah, well, I had nothing else to do," I shrug.
"I was just cooking breakfast, if you'd like some. French toast," he smiles. I get a warm, fuzzy feeling in my gut, and wish I could live here all the time.
"Thanks, but I already ate. Although knowing Katara, I'll be back," I leave the kitchen and go upstairs, bursting into Katara's room and throwing my backpack onto the floor, "Okay, Sugar Queen, I'm here to party! Let's get to it!"
She's standing over her bed in her bathrobe, staring at two shirts. They're perfectly ironed and folded. Figures. She's always been the princess of clean.
"I can't pick which shirt to wear, Toph!" she agonizes, holding both of them up.
"They look the same to me."
"Just because they're both blue doesn't mean they're the same!" Katara is always annoyed with my lack of fashion sense, "This one says I'm cute and innocent, but this one says I'm hot and… not an idiot."
"Well… which impression are you going for?" I didn't know shirts could say so much about a person.
"Are we going to see Zuko today?"
"No. He's at his mom's."
"Then I'll go with cute an innocent. It'll make Aang happy."
"Yeah, cause Aang's real cute an innocent," I mutter. Katara changes into her clothes happy as can be. She usually ignores my comments about her boyfriend prospects. It bugs the hell out of me, since it makes everything less interesting. It's so much fun to annoy her.
"Is my dad making french toast?" she smiles, pulling her hair back into a perfect braid. I blow my bangs out of my eyes and fold my arms across my chest. She always complains about my hair, too. "It's always in you face, Toph! No one can see your pretty eyes!" Excuse me, but she doesn't see me telling her to change all the time. Okay, maybe I do, but at least it's about worthwhile stuff. Why should I care about my appearance? I have bigger things on my plate.
"Yes, Sugar Queen. Bacon, too, by the smell of it."
"I'm surprised Sokka isn't down there yet," Katara says, her brow furrowing, tiny little lines wrinkling her forehead. It's amazing how she still looks perfect even when she's frustrated. I could never look like her. Not with my face (and not to mention, secretly, my emotional state) being marred by abusive nutcases all the time. She turns to look at me, still frustrated, "And why is your face so pale today?"
Oh, just the fifty million pounds of shit all over my face, thanks to my dad.
"I'm always this pale," I lie. She never questions me. I don't know if she just trusts me or she's stupid or what. Oh well. Less explaining for me.
"Whatever. I'm going to go get some breakfast. You want any?"
"I already ate."
"Okay. Can you get Sokka out of his room, then? He won't listen to me."
"As you wish, Sugar Queen," I say dryly. No problem, dragging her idiot spying loser of a brother out of his room. I bet a puppy would put up more of a fight.
As Katara bounces down the stairs, I stomp down the hallway to Sokka's room and knock forcefully, "Up and at'em, Snoozles! The day awaits!"
There's some mumbling behind the door, but no response.
"Your dad cooked bacon for breakfast! Don't you like freaking meat or something?!"
More shuffling than I would've expected. Still, this isn't worth my time. I throw the door open and step into a room that is almost as messy as mine. And that's a hard thing to do.
"What do you want?" a voice mutters from underneath pillows and blankets on the bed. Some crappy music is playing through his stereo and he has posters on the walls of girls in bikinis and what appear to be some kind of scientists. Weird. I would've pegged him for the wannabe loser skateboarding type. There's a picture of his mom on his desk and newspaper clippings. The obituary maybe? There's probably something about Yue up there too. How… morbid.
"Your dad says it's time for breakfast," I say, sitting down on the edge of his bed and putting my feet up, "This place is a mess. Do you even own a closet?"
"As much as I enjoy being woken up by my sister's friend in the morning," he picks his head up from the pillow and suddenly I can see Sokka's face. He's been part of the background ever since I met Katara, but I've never talked to him much, "Get out of my room."
"You know, you'd think that you'd keep this place a little cleaner, considering you never leave."
"I'm serious, Toph. Go away."
"Ooh, you're scary," I wiggle my fingers in front of my face and then stand up to kick around some of his clothes all over the carpet, "I think I can see every shirt you've ever worn on this floor…"
"Toph-"
"What's wrong, Snoozles? Am I disturbing your beauty sleep? Sorry, but I don't think it's going to help much."
"If you don't get out of here right now-"
"You'll what? Bore me to death with how much you know about the history of sword fighting or something?"
"Toph!"
"Are you gonna cry now?" I say in a baby voice and wait for him to start screaming. Instead he looks kind of confused and starts staring at me.
"Hey, you're face isn't purple anymore!"
My mood drops from "happy-devious" to "angry-murderous-suicidal".
Great. He remembers. Just what I need.
"Shut up."
"What, did you get in an argument with a dinosaur?" he smirks. He knows he's caught me. This surprisingly wakes him up.
"No. The Easter Bunny, actually. Thanks for asking."
"It looks like it put up a fight. Did you murder it because it didn't give you enough eggs?"
"He was getting on my nerves. Bunnies tend to have that effect on me."
Sokka sits up in his bed and stretches. He's just wearing a pair of boxer shorts and his hair isn't in it's usual ponytail. It's not like I've never seen him without a shirt before. So why do I keep looking at him? Idiot. I need to shut up and stop thinking. I can't like him. I've got other things to worry about.
"So where'd that bruise go, anyway?"
"I'm magic," I say monotone, squinting my eyes, daring him to keep going.
"It's not like it healed already. Did Zuko punch you in the face?"
"No!" I growl, "And speaking of which, what were you doing spying on me?"
"Hey, it's a free country. I can go wherever I want."
"Maybe. But stalking is illegal."
"Who says I was stalking you? Maybe I just like merry-go-rounds."
"And maybe you're just a freak."
"Oh, please. If I was a stalker, I wouldn't stalk you."
"No, no. Of course not! You'd just steal pictures of me from your sister and gaze at them longingly in your room all day."
"I've got better ways to waste my time."
Is he calling me ugly? I could deck him. Not that I care. Ugh. I attempt to change the topic so we can stop talking about my face.
"What are we listening to, anyway? You actually listen to this shit?" I laugh, "This is some whiney boy band! They suck!"
"Hey, I don't judge you!"
"Really? Doesn't everybody?"
"No."
"Ha, ha. No wonder you never leave your room, Snoozles. This whole world is filled with stereotypes and cliques and expectations. If you're not what you're suppose to be, you get shot down. Don't you know that?"
"I don't listen to what other people say," he smiles. I glare at him, but he glares right back.
"Neither do I."
"So why are you telling me all of this?"
"Hey, I'm just trying to educate another idiot. So sue me."
"Today's idiots will be tomorrows geniuses. Just because I don't judge people doesn't mean I'm an idiot."
"That's a lie. Everybody judges everyone else."
"Lying is my expertise."
He thinks he's won. He thinks he's better at the game than me. No way. If he thinks for one second that he could never beat me, he's tragically mistaken.
"Join the club, Snoozles. Join the club."
If only people like Sokka knew what a liar I really am. Maybe then he'd know that he doesn't belong in the exclusive club of liars. The one for liars that actually have things to lie about. Oh, what happened to my arm? I tripped. Why aren't my parents here for the meeting about my grades? Well, see, my mom's sick, and my dad had to work late. And yeah, my face is bruised because I got in a fight with a bunny who poops eggs. No, no, you can't come over. My mom hates people coming over and the house is a mess and it's boring there anyway.
Lies. Lies are simple. Lies are easy. Lies make the world shut up and keep the demons at bay. I can't imagine any reasons that Sokka would need lies. Not any good reasons, anyway.
"Toph?"
"What?!" I snap, coming back from my zone-out. He's standing up and is in my face, even though he's about two feet taller than me. I sneer up at his perfect, stupid, blue eyes.
"Where are you and Katara going, anyway?"
"The mall, I think. She wants to flirt with Aang or something."
"That weird vegetarian kid?" I nod curtly, "Geez, my sister can't date a vegetarian kid!… Oh well, I wanted to look for some new music, anyway."
"Wait. You're coming with us?!"
"Why not? You guys need a chaperone. Besides, if it annoys you, then all the more reason to go!" he grins and pokes me in the face right where my bruise is. I bite my tongue to keep my face straight. Sokka looks confused when he sees creamy white powder dusting the tip of his finger.
"Toph?"
I grab a fistful of clothes and hurl them at his face, "Put some clothes on, you ass!"
I storm out of the room and into the bathroom to check my make up, never once letting my face scrunch in pain.
Stupid idiot spying loser. I'm going to kill him. He's tried to see me. He's actually tried to (literally) take a stab at who I really am. And for that he must die.
- // -
Peanut butter and scrambled egg sandwiches are really good! Thanks for reading!