“Naomi, get up!” My dad shouted as he angrily pulled the white blankets off my cold body. “You’re going to be late for school.”
“Okay, I’m up” I groaned as I pulled myself up and placed my feet on the warm hardwood floor.
When I looked up to ask him the time, I wasn’t surprised to find that he was already walking out my bedroom door. And even though he would leave the house after I did, I knew I wouldn’t hear another word from him this morning.
I shuffled around my closet as I looked for the right outfit. Today would be special and I wanted to look just right. Last night as Ilay in bed, staring into the darkness,Igained the courage to say the three words I have kept to myself for months.
I found a black and grey skin tight top and slipped it on over my head, put on my favourite skinny jeans and headed towards the washroom. I walked in and opened the blue curtains, allowing the warm light of the morning sun to brighten the room. I turned the tap and watched as the water flowed down the drain. Finally, I decided to fill my hands with the cold water and washed my face. As soon as the water met my eyes I was fully awake. I quickly brushed my teeth, grabbed my leather jacket, slipped on my Manolo’s and rushed out the door.
It was a typical Friday morning at school as I walked down the long halls of NightingaleAcademy.
“Naomi, wait up!” Lauren shouted as she walked towards me, surprisingly her usual posse was no where to be seen.
Lauren and I were the most popular girls at school, and even though we are best friends and I love her, we’re two complete different people. You see Lauren loves the attention, the popularity, the fact that when we walk in a room everyone looks. But I on the other hand, hate it. Everyone thinks they know who I am, when really they don’t have a clue.
On the outside you see a beautiful brunette, wavy hair, grey-blue eyes and skin with a tan that appears as though I spend all of my free time at the beach. The expression I wear on my face causes people to believe I think I’m better than everyone else, when really I’m just trying to picture my life as the people on the outside. Trying to figure out if I would be one of the many girls who wish I had what I do, or if I would have been perfectly happy as an outsider.
“Morning, Sullivan” I hate it when she calls me by my last name, but I’m too tired to argue right now.
“Morning” I moaned.
“Can you walk faster? We’re going to be late!” She complained.
Lauren is one of the most obnoxious, self absorbed, bossy people I know. I hate that about her, I hate the fact that she thinks the world revolves around her. But the truth is, it does. And you can’t blame her for owning up to it. I just sometimes wish she wouldn’t act that way towards me. We’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember, and the one thing I know is that she wasn’t always this way.
Lauren Ventura used to be a sad little girl who constantly mourned upon the fact that she didn’t have a mother. And because of that she didn’t have many friends, her depression pushed people away. But I guess I was always different, because her depression is what pulled me in. I was the only one who understood her, knew what she was going through better than anyone, because you see, I too have lived my life without knowing what its like to have a mother to share it with. We would spend hours talking about what it would be like to have a mom to tuck you in at night, read you bedtime stories and kiss you goodnight. To have a mom who kissed the pain away and made you smile when it felt as though it were impossible.
“We don’t even have first together” I complained, as I rolled my eyes because I knew exactly what she was going to say next.
“And your point is? You don’t expect me to walk to class alone do you?”