“I am a totally average person. I was standing at a cleaning station, watching cars getting cleaned. It was raining outside. ‘Hey kid! Whatcha doing out there?'”
I am a totally average person. I was standing at a cleaning station, watching cars getting cleaned. It was raining outside.
“Hey kid! Whatcha doing out there?”
I jumped. I jumped again. I am very good at jumping. I turned my back and scurried out of the car whatchamacallit and onto the wet pavement.
I did not have an umbrella, but I didn’t mind getting wet. I am wet almost all the time.
I gingerly removed my sopping, wet sweatshirt and then dumped it in one of those clear garbage bags people use for recycling, along with all of my other clothes. I looked in the mirror. My dark, straight hair was matted with rain water, and my pale, blue eye glared and my green eye twinkled. Freckles dotted my cheeks and smeared against my nose until they had formed one big birthmark. I also had a black mole right at the tip of my nose. It didn’t help that my dad called me “Mouse.”
“Honey, I’m home!”
That must have been my mom. I sighed and ran downstairs.
“Hi, Mom!” I screeched. I ran to give her a big hug.
“Hi, sweetie!” she said and hugged me back. “Why is your hair wet?” she asked me quizzically.
“Oh, I just took a shower.”
I didn’t want to tell her about the car wash because if she found out that I was spending my weekend time doing that, she would probably sign me up for something lame like swimming.
“I’m going to take a soak in the hot tub. If you need anything, just ask Bertram.”
So I ran upstairs and jumped on my bed (king-sized) until I got dizzy. Then the doorbell rang.
“Honey, I’m home!” called my father. I ran downstairs and leapt into his arms. “Whoa slow down, Mouse!” Just then, my mother came galloping down the stairs. “Hi, honey!” he exclaimed.
“Hi, dear!” my mother cooed.
I ran back upstairs before anything mushy happened.
Today was the worst day ever! Before I tell you about it, here’s what you need to know. We are rich, and I am not ashamed to say so. Because I am rich, I go to Lady Sandford’s Private School for Girls. My uniform is made up out of a plaid skirt, a white blouse, gray knee high socks, a tie, a sweater or sweater vest, black dress shoes, and a gray coat. Also, I am eleven years old, and my name is Annabeth. At school, there are horrible people, bad people, okay people, and super bad people. The horrible people are Rebeca, Melissa, and Jessie. The bad people are Jane, Suzy, and Magie. The okay people are Molly. That is all. The super bad people are Katie and Phoebe. Anyways, I went to school, and Rebecca, Melissa, and Jessie were waiting for me when I got there.
“Hey!” barked Melissa.
I jumped. They laughed. Long story short, they teased me about a headband that Mommy had given me last night.
“Sorry, I was just trying to fit in,” I mumbled.
“Well guess what!” she bellowed “You never will!”
My parents think that having a journal is stupid. They think I should talk things out with my therapist. So this is my last entry.