Week Forty- Three( August 17 - Augusts 22) Topic: Tomboy
Winner(s) tied: Jessica and Megan
Megan does not wish to have her story put on here.
My Image
By Jessica
“Ugh, how can you do that, Anna?” I asked my best friend, Annabella, as she applied mascara and eyeliner. I shivered visibly. I could never put that stuff on; I’d probably end up poking my eye out or smearing it all over my face before I could ever look good. And besides, it was disgusting.
Annabella sighed and turned to me, screwing the top back on the mascara tube and plunking it in her purse. “Alli, just ‘cause you don’t try to look good doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.”
I raised my eyes at her. God. She could be so snobby sometimes, just because she was head cheerleader. I honestly don’t understand how we ever became friends. She’s head cheerleader, I’m the girl’s soccer captain and the biggest tomboy you could ever hope to meet.
One glance at my look as she pulled open the bathroom door had her backtracking quickly. “Oh, you know what I mean. You do look good, but you don’t cultivate it, which is why you’ve never had a boyfriend.” Anna said with a wave of her hand and I followed her out of the restroom and into the crowded hallway.
“Yeah, and I don’t want one either. They get in the way of everything and besides, one would just get in the way of soccer, and the championships are coming up soon. I’m not going to lose the game before we got to state because of a boy.” I spat the last word as if it were a vile thing that had crawled out of the sewer.
“Well, I think one would be good for you.” She replied.
“They’re not puppies, Ann,” I informed. “And no one asked you what you thought.”
She rolled her eyes, used to my sarcasm by now. “Touché. But I still think one could have a good influence on you. Come on, Al, have you ever even been kissed?”
My silence only confirmed her question as blood pooled into my cheeks. I hoped she didn’t notice. “So?” I retorted hotly. “Who said I wanted my first kiss to happen in high school? Who said I wasn’t waiting for someone special?”
Anna snorted. “Well first of all, you’re blushing. Second of all, you hate romance. And third of all, even if you were waiting for someone, which you aren’t, you don’t believe in love.”
Crap. I’d been caught. I sighed as we pushed our way through the throng of students to our lockers. “No,” I contradicted. “I believe in love. I just don’t believe in love at first sight. And I’m not going to delve into relationships like some boy crazy hormonal teenager!”
“Trust me,” Anna said as she rolled her eyes again. “No one is going to think you are anything close to that.”
“No,” I said calmly. “They won’t. Because I’m not going to ask anyone out, and it’s as simple as that.” And it was.
Anna gave an exasperated sigh. “Alexandra,” she whined.
“Annabella,” I whined back, mostly just to annoy her.
We reached our lockers and I spun the dial and opened my locker.
“If you just–”
“No!” I cut her off. “I’m not going to change my image in time for the dance next Friday, I’m not going to change my image for prom next year, and for the love of all that’s holy, I’m not going to change my image!” I exclaimed.
She shot me a look of contempt as I pulled out my books and stuffed them in my backpack, swinging my locker door shut. “You’re impossible!” she groaned and I smiled to myself.
“Impossible is my middle name,” I said smugly, and headed off to class.
*
I walked back to my locker, stuffing my calculus homework into my backpack. ’God. I hate math…’ I thought to myself as I kept walking until I reached my locker. Anna wasn’t back yet. I spun the dial on the combination lock and swung my door open, irritated from math. A note fluttered out and I picked it up curiously.
In a slightly neat yet messy scrawl on the note read:
‘Change your image and go to the dance, or I’ll tell everyone what you did in fourth grade.’
‘What? Surely no one knows… no. They couldn’t possibly… This is just some prank.’ I thought, my mind – and heart – racing wildly.
I crumbled up the note and threw it into the back of my locker.
“Something wrong?” Anna’s voice drifted behind me. I jumped. Crap.
“No, no, just lost in thought is all,” I lied, trying to calm my shaken nerves as I stuffed my books back in my locker.
“Are you sure? ‘Cause ya look kind of… freaked.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, my voice razor sharp.
Anna had a “Sure, you are,” look on her face when she thought I wasn’t looking, but didn’t bring it up again, thankfully.
“So what are you doing tonight?” Anna asked me.
You already know what I’m doing tonight. Practicing for the big game, doing homework, IMing you. Duh,” I said, as if it should have, which actually, it should have been. I’d had basically the same schedule all throughout high school so far. Like it would change now.
“Just thought you might have wanted to do something different… for once it your life.” She muttered the last part under her breath, but I chose to ignore them.
“See you tomorrow, ‘kay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she sighed. I wondered if something was bothering her, but decided I it was a big deal, she would come to me. If I asked outright, she’d make me all but drag it out of her before she’d tell me. I don’t have that kind of patience. Not today, at least.
*
I sat on my bed with my lapop and logged into my IM account on Skype. 3 new messages; two from Anna and one from someone with the screen name Anonymous Anonymous.
Anna:
Hey, Al, did you happen to see my pink sweater over at your house?
I thought for a moment, ran outside to our tree house, grabbed it, then ran back inside and IMed her back.
Yeah, you left it in the TH. I’ll bring it tomorrow.
Anna: Did you borrow my lip gloss?
I rolled my eyes and typed back:
</>Ann, remember who you’re talking to, will ya? You should ask Camille. Y’all are swapping gloss all the time. Ask her or one of the other cheerleaders.</b>
I shook my head and clicked enter. Anna was so forgetful and always losing her stuff, then asking me if I had it. I on the other hand, rarely misplaced anything.
I looked at the third IM.
If you don’t change your image and come to the dance, I’ll tell everyone what the card you gave him on Valentine’s Day said.
I froze and stared at the screen for what must have been an hour or so. I gulped. I was being blackmailed… but why? Why did someone want me to go to this dance so badly that they would go as far as to blackmail me about saying something on a card back in the fourth grade???
I didn’t mean it, for crying out loud! And it was back in the fourth grade!!! I changed my image because of what I said, and I’ve been better off since! And now I’m supposed to change back into the girly-girl I was!?!?!
I felt ill…
I sent Anna a quick message.
I need you to help me change my image.
Those words would change my entire year, and probably my life, too.
For the next week and I half, I primped, prepped, and turned into a massive girly-girl. Inside, I was still a tomboy, but I learned to appreciate wearing something other than a t-shirt and some soccer shorts, and also rediscovered that it wasn’t so bad to try to look my best while still being tough. Sure, I was no longer known as a tomboy anymore, but I took our team to state, won 1st place, and looked like I actually cared about my appearance. A couple of guys asked me out, and I even became friends with some of the cheerleaders. Well… the ones who weren’t airheads, anyway. Oh, and you’re probably wondering about what happened at the dance. Well, I never really did find out who said those things. Part of me suspects it was Anna, and the more I think about it, the more logical it sounds. After all, she and I have been friends since pre-k, when we got into a massive food fight and bonded while we were sitting in the principal’s office; she was there when I slipped he card into his backpack. I should be mad, but I’m not. I know she only meant the best and wanted to see me look my best, and it isn’t so bad, going shopping and wearing a little makeup every now and then. Changing your image isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s actually a good one.
More by Jessica: (cannot access)
More from this contest: http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1942...
