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The Nobody Chronicles: Chapter 1
I guess I shoulda expected it, ya know? I mean, it always ends up like this. I get a little over excited and the next thing I know they are running away so fast they leave a cartoon smoke cloud behind. Maybe my sister was right, maybe I really am the “ugly one”.
The trouble with that theory though is, I don’t really believe it. Now, I don’t wanna sound conceited or anything, but there I was, letting myself lose it over yet another “almost” guy, when I realized that I really wasn’t being fair to myself. Like seriously, I looked back at my own reflection in the mirror (conveniently located across from my bed) and thought to myself “Wait a minute! I am way too smart and pretty for this. Really, he is sooooo not worth it”
Of course, this astounding revelation didn’t prevent me from spending the remainder of the day crying in my room and refusing to talk to anyone. In fact, it probably won’t even stop me from letting the next guy do the exact same thing to me in about a week or so. But for that fleeting moment it was kinda nice. It was like, for just one moment, I was worthy and confident, you know, rather then a blubbering, love struck teenager.
But, really, I’m getting way ahead of myself though now aren’t I. Goodness, I do tend to get a little carried away with things. I mean, here I am pouring out my heart and soul to you like some sort of mental patient and you don’t even know my name.
Alright, alright, so technically that’s not really my name, but it just sounds so, oh I dunno, sexy and glamorous doesn’t it? My real name is just plain and dull and boring. I know they say that the name doesn’t make the man, or something like that, but trust me, if Angelina Jolie had my name nobody would be begging for her autograph.
See, there I go complaining again and I still haven’t properly introduced myself. It really is quite dreadful that I have absolutely no handle on common courtesy. But honestly, it is quite a big problem I have of getting ahead of myself. It’s not like I do it on purpose or anything. My brain is always just racing and racing and I start spitting things out before I have really thought about what I’m going to say. It gets me into quite a bit of trouble too, as you can imagine.
Well, look at that, I’ve managed to drag this on a lot longer now haven’t I. Alright, before I get anymore distracted, my name is Elaine Cohen.
Yeah, definitely could have done without the buildup, it doesn’t really deserve it, but there you have it. My parent’s seem to think it is the perfect name for me. I guess that is there way of telling me they think I am an overall unappealing person, even if they won’t admit it. They insist my name suits me just perfectly because it is a nice little Jewish name for a nice little Jewish girl.
Oy! I mean really, just what every teenage girl wants, to be that nice little Jewish girl. Okay, so the truth is, if it meant being known at all I doubt that I would really begrudge being that nice little Jewish girl. But, of course, so as to be perfectly unoriginal, my school is chalk full of nice little Jewish girls, and most of them happen to be a lot nicer then me.
I’m not mean or anything, that wasn’t what I meant about them being nicer. It’s just that the rest of them seem to have something that I have just a little bit better. This has made me into somewhat of an invisible member of my school community. With a name like Amber Taylor though, I would be so much impressive and unique, don’tcha think? That’s why I’m gonna change it, legally and all, when I turn 18.
Actually, I tried to get my parent’s to change it when I started high school, but they just got all offended and pissy. So then, I tried to convince my teachers that the roster was wrong, but of course they said they needed a parent note to confirm that, and, as I had already tried that route, and I’m really a crap forger, I gave up the effort for lot. No matter though, because in exactly 2 years, 7 months and 19 days, I will officially become Amber Taylor and I just know my life will be better.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I have a bad life or anything. I mean, compared to most, my life is pretty damn good.
My parents are even still together. In fact, they are embarrassingly still in love. Around middle school, when all my friend’s parents got divorced, I wondered why I got stuck with the only two lame ass parents still acting all happy and lovey. I even prayed for them to get a divorce after I overheard this popular girl telling her friends how she got two cell phones and two birthday parties, neither of which I was invited to I must add, after her parents split. G-d must not have been listening though.
I guess all of that comes off a little selfish, but I’m not a bad kid, really. My parents and I actually have a pretty good relationship, like we surprisingly get along most of the time. It’s just, I’m a teenager so everything comes off a little selfish.
Back to my life though, like I said its not that bad. I’m not homeless, or starving, or neglected or anything you would expect to see on the 10 o’clock news. I’m actually quite well-off, or however people are saying it now. See, my dad invented some sort of computer organizing system that all of the major corporations were climbing over themselves to have, so I guess we are kinda set.
Unfortunately, despite all of this, my mother remains firm in her belief that name brands are a waste of money and, although I have continually begged for just one Gucci or Coach bag, I thusly always end up with the generic Target brand.
I’m not snobby or anything, though, it’s just that surviving in my world requires a little bit of “upper-class” vanity. Seriously, my attitude is merely my life-jacket to keep myself from being drowned in a sea of thousand dollar bags and other such accessories.
That reminds me, I’m not in private school, where you would intend to deal with annoying “rich bitches” with their thousand dollar backpacks and actual million dollar smiles, I just happen to go to a pretty-high end public school.
Let me explain. Basically, I come from a rich neighborhood, but the parents are notoriously cheap, and were sorta against the idea of spending $30,000 a year on their kids’ educations (of course most of them will spend twice that or more on their kid’s first car) so instead petitioned the school board to build them their own high school.
Now, up until about 10 years ago all the kids from my neighborhood got bused out to the big high school in the city. However, all the parents didn’t much like that their “precious gems” were forced to go to a school full of dirty, and, more importantly, impoverished hoodlums. So, they decided it was time for a change, and bada bing bada boom High school for the Elite Lincoln Lodge was born.
That’s right, HELL! I wonder if the parents even realized that when they came up with the dumb ass name. Do you see what I mean about snobby though? Even the name has the word elite in it!
Anyway, the name itself couldn’t fit the place more perfectly, you know, the HELL part. Now, most kids would say that their school is hell, but seriously my school really is. First of all, Lincoln Lodge, the town’s name, is in the middle of the desert so it is always excruciatingly hot. Second, our principal, although he is trying to get it changed to headmaster (not joking), is practically the Devil.
So, there you have it, mostly anyway, or at least all that you really need to know. The truth is, I am a nobody. Now, I don’t say that to get sympathy (of course it wouldn’t be discouraged) or because I am one of those insecure popular girls that needs validation, I really am nobody. Like, I’ve gone to school with same kids since kindergarten and still most of them couldn’t tell you my name.
It’s not from lack of trying either. I mean, it’s not like I just sit around in the corner and don’t talk to anyone, I really, really try, but there is just something unremarkable about me. Nobody wants to beat me up or anything, but nobody is begging to be me either. I just kinda disappear into the scenery, I just kinda exist.
I’m not a loner though, like, I do have my group of friends, my “clique”, but that’s about it. Beyond that though, nobody really cares about me, and I care about everyone way too much.
I wish I could say that I’m happy with my life, but I just can’t. I can’t really say that I’m unhappy either though. I just am, you know? I live each day and some days are good and others totally suck.
I’m what you call average. I don’t get my prince charming and I don’t get my happily ever after fairytale ending I guess I hope I get something close, but I’m a realist. I live in the real world, and in the real world the truth is nobody really cares.