Thirteen

The rain is heavy, its droplets shooting down as if Mother Earth has something against us. My mom is brushing my hair, and my dad, as usual, is struggling to put his tie on right. I’m surprised he hasn’t learned yet considering he wears a tie everyday. We’re supposed to go to some fancy party for my dads work friends again but It’s like the only time we go out now, and I hate it. I’m always so alone at these parties, everyone is super old and boring. I think the only good thing about them is the treats they put out. I always have my pockets filled with cookies and biscuits as I follow my mom so she can introduce me to everyone there.

She likes to brag about everything I do too, like the fact I know how to play piano. Without fail someone always has to ask me to play something for them, and every single time I have to. If i don’t, my dad will yell at me and tell me how i’m being rude and i should be grateful to even know how to play such an instrument. Of Course he won’t do it at the moment, that’s what our house is for. “Why do I always have to go to these things?” I ask my mom as she puts my hair in two braids. I think I’m too old for braids, I’m thirteen and she never lets me do my own hair, still she insists on the braids. “Why do you always try to argue with us Destiny? You know this is important for your father, I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now.” I wasn’t trying to argue but no matter what I say they will alway hear differently. I can feel my moms grip on my hair tighten. As she finishes the braids, I just look at myself in the mirror while my dad starts lecturing me on how I’m too young to understand things… blah blah blah. My ears are peaking out so much, and the tight braids do not help out at all.

But as I stare at myself, I’m hoping to see a girl who feels seen and important, and girl who can’t say what she feels without feeling like a threat or a burden, but all I see is a little girl stuck in a world full of adults who will never see me beyond “The cute little girl with piano skills”.

My dad pats me on the shoulder, breaking me away from my trance. “Let’s hurry and head out before the rain gets worse for the road, and fix your face no one needs to think your not happy to see them.’’ He says, picking up umbrellas and giving us each one. Again, just like all the other times they know I don’t want to go, but all they do is dismiss me. I wonder when my voice will matter to them. I put my coat on and just follow them out. As we step outside, the rain hammers down, I pull my coat tighter around me and use my umbrellas as a shield.

As it rains a storm I imagine its acid, the kind that can only affect humans. An acid that, if it touches you, your skin will turn blue and see through. Your hair will grow long, so long that it touches the ground and it glows white. If the acid keeps hitting you, you would turn into a monster, you wouldn’t be able to speak because the acid is just too much and everyone would have no choice but to look away because of how hideous you are. I don’t let the rain touch me at all as we rush in the car.

My friends say I have a big and weird imagination, but they like that about me because we have the most fun at school. My teacher even said the same thing about me, and that I would make a good writer. I got really happy when she said that to me, maybe one day I will become a writer and my first story will be just for her. I wish my parents were the same. After all, being able to play the piano is much more impressive than writing stories, even though I never really wanted to play piano. They just put me in classes and never listened to me when I told them I didn’t like it. Sometimes I have nightmares of not being good enough, my piano tutor is this scary old lady. Everytime I mess up she bangs on the table, gets super close to me and yells at me to start from the beginning until I get it all right. Apparently she doesn’t know how to brush her teeth. Ms. Rufus is the worst ever.

At the party, the same thing happens as always. Mom leads me around to everyone, introducing me for the hundredth time to the same people who could never remember my name. “This is my lovely girl, Destiny! She plays piano very well!’’ Those words are like a spell, no…. a curse that has been set over me by an evil queen.

When someone asks if I could play something for them I hesitate. I don’t want to, I’m already bored and kind of hungry. I just want to go home and do whatever I want, like play games with my friends. The pressure is so overwhelming, and I can feel my heart beating faster and faster. If I say no, my dads disappointed eyes will follow me without a single blink. And if I say yes, I’ll basically be handing them my will and step into the fake spotlight. I want people to see me and listen, but not like this, not while my voice doesn’t matter.

“Uhm , okay…” I finally say, my voice cracking mid-O.

Mom’s expression lightens, and I see my dad’s nod of approval. As I walk to the grand piano in the corner of the room, I feel their expectation getting heavier on my shoulders, the farther I walk the heavier it gets. I sit down, my fingers hovering over the black and white keys, finding myself. I stare at everyone huddled around, waiting for me to slam onto the keys and give them what they want. Just then, for a moment I wish I could say no, I wish my voice would be loud enough for them to hear, I wish my age had nothing to do with the amount of respect I was given.

Then I begin to play, my movement still and keys slightly off. This is my only chance to do what I want and no one can tell me no. The music I play is mine, not theirs. Pouring my feelings into the keys. Music starts to form. Each note becomes something more than a piece you put together. It becomes a whisper, a way to express the frustration that words cannot say. Maybe they won’t notice me or listen, but at this moment, I’m more than just the girl in braids. I’m the one creating something real, even if it’s just for a few minutes. I am someone.