My obsession
I’m curled up in the corner. It’s just like every other horrible morning in this god forbidden terrible place that they call school. I’m trying to hide from all of these basics. I focus the cement walls and fluorescent lights. I began studying a small beetle crawling on the floor; it’s near my dirty black sneakers. That’s when I noticed my obsession out of the corner of my eye. Her boots were tan Ugg boots that went up about mid-calf. They met with her black Lu Lu lemon leggings. Her white North Face jacket was halfway unzipped. She accessorized with earrings and a big shining necklaces.
She is tall for a girl, but not the tallest girl in the 12th grade. She walks with her arms crossed. They are pulled tightly to her chest. She walks with such grace and confidence. It’s annoying. With her long black hair and almond eyes. She would be perfect, if only she wasn’t so fake. She would be perfect if she worried about others even a fraction of the amount that she worried about whitening her teeth. But she doesn’t. She cares about popularity and recognition. Uncrossing her arms and forming what resembled a warming smile. She passes me on the way to her friends. They are also fakes that stand conversing in the corner diagonally from where I sit. She walks with the right foot, left foot, right, left…
*****
My name is shelly. I’m perfect. Most people would never dream of thinking something like that let alone say it. For me it’s different. I’m the girl that everyone knows with the perfect smile and expensive clothes. That’s the way I intend to keep it. If I have to act like a brat and prance around the hallway claiming that I am perfect in order to create a scene that distracts people from seeing the real me, then so be it. It started with my mother. My perfectly imperfect mother. She used the excuse that she married a rich doctor to not work. Now it has turned it into her excuse to not do anything. I do all the house work and the preparation for the upcoming week, while she sits on her throne of cushions and watches reality TV. She mocks the actors in dramatic shows. I mock her because she acts just like them. I do not of course verbally mock my mother. My father would then have to put his two worthless cents in. He would say “respect your mother”. He is only concerned about his woman in leopard skinned leggings. He thinks that buying me expensive clothes will make up for everything. All that matters now is that I keep this fake smile on my face. I pretend that everything is fine. That way no one will ask questions.
I reach my friends. They greet me with kisses on the cheeks.
*****
She walked past me and didn’t even bother to make any kind of eye contact. I didn’t expect she would, she was a typical popular conceited girl. Smiling and waving her hair back and forth, I tried to read her lips as she reaches her friend. I try so hard to make out the sentences that are forming, but can only image what she was saying. I will never be able to know for sure what she is saying. I’m not cool enough to even converse with that group of people. I was just the weird kid that sat in the corner at school. I shut myself off from the rest of the world, I wears long sleeves in the middle o the summer to hide the scars and bruises. I look down and see that beetle still crawling next to me. Crunch. He’s dead. I look at his little legs curled up under his body; his tiny wings were crunched together and broke in half. His stomach guts were oozing out. He was smashed beyond recognition.
*****
Gross. I am a girl. I am supposed to be repulsed by insects. He is a boy. He is supposed to be fascinated by every single one of Gods creatures. There was something, however, about the way that he examined the insect post death. It was almost like he enjoyed seeing the bug suffer and die.
By the last period of the day I was still unable to shake the horrifying expression on the boy’s face. That’s when I ran right into him. I jumped and screamed. I probably would not have been so startled by him if the thought of him brutally killing that bug was not still lingering over me. His expression was blank. He gripped my arm. His grip unusually tight. Why would he not let go? Why was he holding my arm in the first place? It was an accident.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bump into you. I really just didn’t see you there.”



Finally he released his grip and gave me a sarcastic smile. I began to turn and walk to my car. My pace to my car was much faster than usual and it never felt so good to reach my destination. Inside my car I sat. Finally feeling safe and relived to be away from that strange kid. Something was wrong with him. He never talked to anyone. For some reason, I felt bad for how pathetic he was.
*****
I watched her in her yellow slug bug car drive away, but she instantly cut someone off nearly causing an accident.
For the next week my obsession grew. Every day I watched her. I studied and memorized her schedule. I tried very hard to not let dark thoughts into my mind. But no matter how hard I tried they somehow would sneak in. I began to think on a regular basis how much better this world would be without her here. Without her fake smile and her gossip that spewed out of those perfectly shaped lips.