Eyes on You

If there was one feature that I didn’t like about myself, it would be my eyes. They were a vivid amber, glowing whenever they touched the sunlight. People invariably found them shocking or said I had a piercing gaze. I found them hideous, reasoning about how dull it compared them to blue or green ones. I met no one with the same eye color other than my father, who had a sweeter shade than mine. My mother always adored my father and I’s eyes, and I would constantly marvel at hers. They were a crystal blue, in contrast with her long glistening black hair. She had every shade of the ocean in her eyes. My father had amber eyes, and he had wavy blond hair. His eyes were regularly, fiercely alive, and happy. My parents were the ideal couple in every form. I had my father’s eyes and my mother’s hair. My parents would claim that I was a mix of both of them, and unquestionably I was. They would tell me I was exquisite, charisma, or looks.

But that’s not how I felt on the first day of sophomore year.

We had abruptly moved because of my mother’s job, from Oregon to Toronto. It was a great transition, respecting she was a neuroscientist working for one of the fullest enterprises in America, BioTech. We were moving to an exceptional plant built in Canada. So I had to leave behind my friends and say goodbye to the home that they raised me in.

My parents both went to public high schools, and as much as I wanted to homeschool this year… It absolutely won’t happen.

Ahem.

My parents both went to public high schools, which is pivotal for me to enroll because my parents were the star students. I continuously demanded to get homeschooled this year, for I could better myself from getting any underlying comments or judgments about me. But as far as parents go, they want me to enroll and try to roll with it.

Back to where I am now, looking in the mirror. I was always judging my eyes, whether I was in public. I never resented my looks. My black lustrous hair fell to my waistline, and I had pure tan skin. I had a nice body; I played every sport there was; soccer, volleyball, lacrosse, tennis, and football. I didn’t have bodybuilder's muscles; I was normal. I didn’t want to brag or anything, but I had women “abs.” My father was an athlete, so I followed. My mother had spectacular grades and was an athlete, and I sought her. I just appear the insecure, placid type.

I glanced in the mirror one last time, scanning my body. I slipped on a white tank top, with a grey velvet cardigan, paired in wide mom jeans. I wasn’t awfully certain about the outfit, but I felt bold enough to wear it to school, so why not?

I ran my fingers through my hair, grabbed my phone and bag and left downstairs.

Time for breakfast! :)

“Hey honey, would you like pancakes or waffles for breakfast?” My mother asked joyfully.

“Pancakes, please!” I exclaimed, full of content.

I take my plate of pancakes and start eating breakfast with my father. Looking down at my plate, wondering about how smoothly my day was going to go.

Meanwhile, my father was looking at me dumb, stuffing his face full of pancakes and waffles. He stopped, looked at me, and tried speaking with his face stuffed. He mumbled something, but you couldn’t make a sentence out.

“Mu-Dook-Tet-ti-Do-Day!” he exclaimed, trying to fit in a smile.

“What in the world are you saying?” I laughed hard, reminding myself he could act like a three-year-old who lost his manners.

“Sweetie, try not to stuff your face like a squirrel, and chew. PLEASE.” My mother asserted, she married the love of her life. A grown man who acted like a three-year-old.

He chewed quickly and swallowed his breakfast.

“You look pretty today, Dahlia!” He looked at me with sparkling eyes. He patted me on the back and amusingly whispered,” Try to save some boys for the other girls.”

Excuse me.

What.

Did I look that bad?

“Honey, mind your father, you are always gorgeous.” She claimed. “Sometimes, he can’t keep his mouth shut, nor his quips.” She frowned at him.

He slowly takes another pancake off the plate before my mother could slap his hand. He waves it in the air and winks,” You know you love me.”

My mother looked at him in a sarcastic tone and nodded humorously. “Is that the same man I fell in love with and said yes to marriage to?” She looked at me with a funny questionable expression.

“Sure is!” I broke out with laughter, roughly dropping to the ground.

We both paused and continued our uncontrollable laughter. My mother and I were always close like this, she taught me most of the girly things when I was younger. Otherwise, I would have been a straight-up tomboy because of my father. Good thing I am not, I really want a feminine side. My mother had plenty to do, work a job, and take care of two kids, but she still took some time for just me and my brother individually.

My brother was seemingly the best brother I could ask for. He constantly looked out for me, especially when I needed it. During middle school he would bring hordes of girls, and yet he forgot about them, and thought looking out for me was more important. I mean, he’s good looking and all, with his blond hair and blue eyes.

Hey! You can’t have an infatuation on my brother, that is severely forbidden.

He can’t look out for me anymore though. He left for college this year, which is very out of sorts. But at least he’ll visit from time to time. Which is good enough for me!

“Dahlia, check the time!” My mother yelled from across the room.

I checked the time on my phone.

8:15.

Shit.

I scurried to finish my breakfast before heading to the bus stop.

Good start to the year, ain’t it?