Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

She's Got It All This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
I look up and find my answer as to why the classroom, that’s usually boisterous and noisy, silenced. She walked in. Today, she wore a black dress paired with a ripe red blazer. Her red lipstick not only matched her leather bag, but it also complimented the natural beauty of her eyes. Her hair flowed down like a waterfall and bounced up and down and up and down with every step she took. Her sparkly Louboutin shoes—the ones that went click clack click clack¬—were the only noise I heard. She smiled and winked at the boys and all of them swooned and felt their hearts and if she personally reached into their bodies and stole it from them. I rolled my eyes. The way she entered the room and grabbed everyone’s attention only provoked the hatred that I have for her even more. I know it’s bad, but I couldn’t help the envy that was growing inside of me. She has everything! Her life is the very thing that I want. If I could walk in a room and have everyone stop and stare, my life would be made.

The guy next to me smiles. His name is Liam and I’ve had a crush on that boy since middle school. While he was staring at her, I was staring at him. He was focusing on her and I was focusing on him. That’s exactly how my life goes. What am I, crazy? He’s perfect and she’s perfect and they’re obviously going to marry each other and make beautiful babies with his perfect smile and her perfect cheek bones! I groan out loud. The girl looks at me. She stares at me for a long, hard time. Suddenly, I felt a little self-conscious and nervous. I twirl my braids around my finger and put them in my mouth. She then hopelessly sighs and finally takes her seat. What was that about? I didn’t notice how skinny she was. Maybe she’s anorexic or something. I wouldn’t be surprised at all. Her dress hugs her body tightly and she hardly has curves. She’s like a stick. I bet she starves herself to look that way. I shake my head, she’s disgusting. Then I sigh, but she’s still perfect.

I finally take the awful tasting braids out of my mouth and look away. I hate her. My mom’s always on my back saying that hatred is a bad thing and that it’s the only thing you should hate. I should hate hating people? Oh, the woman doesn’t even understand the contradiction in that phrase! I don’t know why that girl with the expensive shoes looked at me like that. She looked sad. Well she sure enough didn’t look sad when she came in the room and winked at everybody. But the look she gave me made me feel uncomfortable. She looked hurt, as if she read what I was thinking. The girl with the red lipstick looked painful. There was genuine aching in the stare she gave me. I rolled my eyes. I should be the sad one. She has everything and what do I have? What am I? I’m the only girl who doesn’t care enough to dress up for school. I’m the only one wearing sweatpants and the YMCA shirt that I wore to bed last night. I’m the one looking like a total bum, while she walks in with her Tyra Banks on. Who does she think she is? Is it really necessary to wear everything you find in a catalog to school?

Liam waves himself, as if he was burning up from the sight of her.

“Get a hold of yourself.” I mumble, angrily. How dare he look at that girl when we’re in a relationship that’s not yet real?!

He laughs and says to me, “She’s got something.”

“What’s she got?” I ask.

He just shakes his head and looks at her again, “Everything.” Suddenly, he gets out of his chair and walks over to her. When Liam walks up to you, you must be something special. I can’t really make out what they’re saying, but I’m sure Liam’s using one of his corny pickup lines. She smiles for a minute and then I see her grip her red bag and pull it onto her lap. Liam’s still flirting with her, while she’s just nervously laughing. Then, she stands up and walks past Liam. She casually struts out of the classroom. Stunned, Liam walks back to his seat.

“She dissed me?” He scoffs, incredulously.

“I guess so.” I smirk, kind of enjoying this.

“Who does she think she is? Is she too stuck-up to date me or something?”

“That would be my first assumption.”

“She’s too perfect, that’s what it is.”

“Then stop trying to flirt with her.” I say.

Try to flirt with me instead, I only think.

“No, she’ll come around. Like I said, she’s got everything anyone could possible want. She needs me.”

Yep, she’s got everything and I’m left with nothing. She’s perfect, while I’m just ugly and disgusting. I’m just left here to die of jealousy. She’s got it all… and I have nothing.
***

As I enter the room, everyone stops and stares. This isn’t anything new. I just came from an algebra classroom with wild apes who gawked every time I took a step. I keep my head held high and one foot in front of the other. Whispers roam around as a few girls give me jealous glares. Right now, I just want to take these high heels off. They’re killing me. I want to ditch this red bag for a pillow or something. Oh and this dress! It clings on to every part of my body and it’s not exactly comfortable. Yet, people are still staring. Just to amuse them, I wink. This flirtatious yet utterly pointless gesture makes all the boys grin. I smile back and as I do, I taste the red lipstick that’s on my lips. I try not to make a face and I clandestinely wipe the red off my teeth.

When I walk over to my seat, I hear a loud and obnoxious groan. I turn to the owner of that sound and spot a girl staring at me. I stared at her back, only harder and longer. She has on a huge, white T-shirt that says YMCA. The girl shamelessly wears sweatpants and sandals. Her braids are forced back by a plastic headband that’s barely doing its job and she’s obviously intimidated by me. She’s chewing her hair. I try not to make a face. She certainly has nothing to be jealous of. She’s pretty but there’s just something about her that doesn’t make the guys flock to her as much. Maybe it’s her lack of confidence. But trust me, she and all of the other girls in this school have nothing to be jealous of. In fact, I’m the one who should be jealous. My looks are the only things that are helping me through some tough times right now. If they knew how bad my life was, they’d take back all of their prayers to be like me. Finally, I sit down in my seat and face the board. The teacher hasn’t come in yet and the class finally comes back to life. I can still feel hateful stares on me. They’re mostly coming from the girls—specifically, the girls with braids in their mouths and YMCA T-shirts. That girl who I was just staring at, (who I’m sure is still staring at me) is making it obvious that she doesn’t want me here. I look around the classroom and try to focus on something else. My stomach hurts really badly. I haven’t eaten food in days. There are tons of rumors going around saying that I’m anorexic, but if those girls just knew my story, they wouldn’t say any of that stuff.

I look at the girl with the sweatpants on again. If I could switch places with anyone, I wouldn’t even hesitate to switch with her. Right now, she’s talking to the guy next to her. He is gorgeous. His name is Liam and I’ve never talked to him, but I’ve had an insane crush on him since I first laid eyes on him. Unbelievably, he gets out of his seat and starts walking in my direction! When he’s finally standing in front of me, he smiles.

“Hey, I saw you walk into this class and I thought you were lost.” He says, smoothly.

“Why would I be lost?” I ask.

“Aren’t you a model? You should be on your way to a runway or something.”

I giggle at his cornier-than-life joke. “No, I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be here.”

“Well, my name’s Liam and you are?”

Suddenly, I can’t remember my name—not because I’m flattered and taken by him, but because I feel a sharp pain in my stomach. I’m about to puke and it’s not going to be pretty. I wince at the pain and try to take a deep breath. I’m in so much pain that I can’t even think. I grip my bag and pull it onto my lap. Then, I slowly stand up and walk past him, to the door. I can’t believe I’m just leaving him there, looking oh so cute and confused. Holding on to my stomach I walk to the bathroom. When I’m finally there, I take off my shoes and run into a stall. I have nothing to throw up, so all that comes out is blood. I can’t help but cry because it hurts so much. When I’m done, I walk to the sink and wash my hands. As I look into the mirror, I decide to wipe off my makeup. The sight of the girl looking back at me in the mirror makes me want to throw up even more. The smooth chocolaty skin that I wore before is now replaced with an ugly yellowish brownish color. Maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten anything, I tell myself, my skin will go back to normal tomorrow. It does this all the time. Pulling out my bag, I grabbed all the makeup I could find inside of it. As I shakily painted it across my face, I thought about that girl with the YMCA shirt on. She has everything that I want!

Yep, she’s got everything and I’m left with nothing. She’s healthy, while I’m just pretty and disgusting. I’m just left here to die of sickness. She’s got it all… and I have pancreatic cancer.



Join the Discussion

This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

Dakota88zxc said...
Jun. 26, 2013 at 5:14 pm
Flawless story. I like how it doesn't have any cliches and actually fits in with reality.
 
KkatKreationzThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Jun. 18, 2013 at 11:42 am
Omigosh! thats beautiful! It really gets to me beacauce a loved one of mine just died  because of cancer.
 
AustinJuly replied...
Jun. 19, 2013 at 1:38 pm
Thank you so much! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Sorry about your loved one
 
Site Feedback