Special

Read something on somewhere I have sworn not to mention, but I thank the author.  I'm honored to be there... I hope I helped.

In other news, it was really hard not to lose it at rehearsal today. People were so... so... disrespectful to the production through their bully and their big-talk. As soon as Director and Katie-of-the-purple-hair went to see about costumes, they were absolute hooligans... and I do not tolerate hooligans well.

For example.

"Shut. Up. Baack. STAGE." Dead silence backstage= me in piss mode on-stage.

"If I hear one more word from there, I WILL SPEAR YOUR BABIES!" Check-mate, stage talking? I think so.

Kate heard me swear for the first time today. She looked at me with fear in her heart, and it stung me. I was relieved when she went to try on some Allegra-dresses, but the respite was brief, as I soon followed. I saw Kate's beautiful dresses.... and I tried on some. Please understand, non-existants, it is not that my dresses were ugly. I'm sure for a sixty-year-old woman, they would be more than fair.

But I'm not sixty. I'm eighteen. I feel ugly every day, every moment in that high school, and now I feel that way at a time I used to love, and tonight I lived it. Schultz and Katie tried to be kind, really they did, and I appreciate their effort, but it still hurts. I feel hurt, and I cried for it.

After rehearsal, Finley and mom forgot me, and everyone left me there for two hours before I was picked up.

Today at Economics, Ms. Lee--she talks to me occasionally after class--said, "School's almost over!" And I grinned.

"Don't remind me. I'm nervous as it is."

"Why're you nervous?" Aww, you're concerned. That's cute. Is the crazy growing on you?

"Portfolios. I have enough trouble convincing my every-day friends that I'm sane, let alone strangers who must suffer four years of me."

She laughs. "Just be yourself, Payton."

I laugh. " 'Just be yourself'? This is High school, Ms. Lee. Nobody does that." And I'd be stabbed if I did...

She smiled, a real, I'm-a-person-and-we're-more-than-we-were smile. "They'll grow out of it. I promise."

Oh, that's refreshing. You want to help me. That's so... unexpected. I mean, I remember... okay.

Mid story. I do this, it's my blog, so deal. Ms. Lee gave us a project awhile back and I took it home, and the next day, (it'd been an in-class assignment, I had to ask for extra time), some kids were REALLY shitty to her, and she took out the map I'd drawn and the diagram and the typed paragraphs of explanation and brought them to me. Her eyes glistening, she said, "Payton... you try.... you try so hard." And she was better.

So I go out of my way to make things better for her, to turn in, because I want to learn from my teachers. And because of that, strangely, she seems to want to like me, now.

"They'll grow out of it. I promise."

"What are you, a psychatrist?"

She grins. "After-school special, and it's all for you."

Tears run and my hands shake as I leave.





Nobody looks, and I wipe them away.





No one ever looks.