The following passage is a choppy short story that was written by me in my tenth-grade year. I believe it might be an excerpt from of future cliche young-adult novel.
My mother has decided to have me wear a horrifying pink dress. I don’t think pink’s a bad color, even though I prefer the color peach. I would just rather be wearing sweatpants and a large t-shirt or pondering my despise of most people on the internet at home. I also would rather not be wearing shoes that may leave my feet permanently defected. I would also rather not be going to this baby shower, in the first place. I would say my mother has disrespected my rights as a human being, but that would be too extreme. I guess I should prepare myself for five more hours of giggling and people asking me to watch their child. Of course, I would say yes, and then carry-on to ignore their child, as long as the child is in my peripheral. I guess I should also prepare myself for other women trying to socialize with me, and then my mother pulling me aside, as usual, to tell me that I’m being rude when I don’t give these women the time of day. I would tell her, as usual, that I don't have time to talk to people about the perfect casserole recipe.
I can hear my mother yelling at me from downstairs that we are going to be late. I was not going to leave without taking one last look in the mirror. Even though by my standards and society's I looked beautiful, I was disappointed in myself for not standing up to my mother again. My mom walks into my room and yells at me again. I had to stop criticizing myself and interact with the social world.
It's already terrible that I have to be here. The drive here wasn’t bad, even though there was traffic. I reclined the chair in the front seat and watched the clouds while I talked to my mother about the despicable people in the media as we drove to the shower. I saw different shapes in the sky. I saw four-legged creatures, that probably don’t exist, coconut trees and distorted faces. The sky would change its color from time to time. It slowly changed to a grey, that usually would appear before a storm, when a cloud moved in front of the sun. Then the sky would be so sunny that it felt like I was visiting my dad in California during the summer. When mother pulled up in front of the venue, a handsome valet with a very chiseled jaw-line opens the car door and helps me out the car. I couldn’t help myself and look at his eyes. They looked as sweet as a Hershey's bar or as warm as hot chocolate. I felt like a princess for a second until a gust of wind decided to blow my hair into my face and eyes. I wondered if I looked completely hideous because feel like I am doing that weird squint with my face, but now is not a good moment to be self-conscious and frantically try to fix myself. I just carried on into the building trailing behind my mother.
After we sit at the table, four other people sit with us. My mother must know these people because she gets up and hugs each of them. Maybe they are some of her co-workers. When the small reunion was over, my mother introduced me to one of her friends and her husband.“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Johnson,” I said with the usual fake smile on my face. “It’s okay I have a teenager too, Nancy. She also refuses to say more than two words at a time. That’s why she refused to come,” Mr. Johnson said with a little chuckle at the end. So this was the exterior approach I would be presenting for the entire shower and I am proud. My mother leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Don’t be like that. You need to be more approachable. I don’t want to be here just as much as you, so let’s just get through tonight.” I hate to admit it, but she was right. I would certainly try to be approachable.
The shower party played games to pass the time. I was happy to play because games kept me preoccupied so I didn’t have to use my phone, and I have made a few acquaintances. So far I have not been asked to look at someone’s child. I also won a prize for having the blue button placed randomly on my dress. My mother looked like she was having fun until my dad called her to talk about me visiting this summer. I wish she would just let me tell him that I don’t want to go because I don’t want to spend time with my step-mother. She’s a good woman, but I don’t like her. After the presents were opened, we went home.
As soon as I got home, I kicked these shoes off my feet. Then I washed this make-up off my face. Then I put on my sweats and relaxed while watching “The Iron Lady” again. Half-way through the movie, my mom comes in my room to check on me. “Will you be okay? I’m going to sleep now,” my mother said in a dreary voice as she sat on the foot of the bed. “Yeah, and did you talk to dad about this summer?” I asked, “I want to get a job to help you out.” My mother replied, “Umm sorta. We compromised. How do you feel about staying for two weeks?” I answered, “I cannot stand the sight of that woman. She is just another reminder of just about everything bad that has happened in the past three years.” My mother said to me, “Well just think about it. Good night.” She kissed me on my forehead and left the room.
I couldn’t continue to watch my movie anymore. The conversation I just had with my mother plagued my thoughts. I wish my parent’s marriage didn’t end the way it did. If it didn’t, maybe visiting my father wouldn’t be a controversial matter on my mind. I got up and went to my window. I laid my head on the window sill and looked up at the night sky. I could not see at least one star in the sky. The only thing in the sky were thinly layered clouds. The simplicity of the sky and the mood I was in brought on the water works slowly. The tears ran halfway down my face and landed on my arm. I wiped my eyes. I collected my final thoughts and I go went back to bed and fell asleep.