1
Looking in the mirror in the morning was Bea's least favourite part of the day. She often pretended to ignore them, avoid them like the plague, but if she was honest with herself - she was obsessed with the mirror. Constantly fixated on whether the untamed curls of her hair sat acceptably, always making sure her eyebrows weren't smudged or out of place, her eyelashes not clumping together, or her mascara causing fallout on her cheeks. She checked nearly forty times a day to make sure her clothes still fit the same way, if she hadn't mysteriously gotten fatter between that moment and the last time she'd checked.
She pursed her lips at herself in the mirror before twisting on her cherished mean-girl smile and exiting the school washroom. The girl ran a hand through her long, winding curls and began her return to the class she'd ditched fifteen minutes ago for her after lunch checkup. She was twirling her water bottle by its cap handle as she walked, keeping her chin up as she strutted down the hallway.
The girl passed a few of her peers, whose names she didn't know, as she wandered down the hallways. Part of her always wondered what they thought of her, but part of her didn't want to know. Several years ago she'd earned herself the nickname Plastic, the same pet name people used for their credit cards, and it had stuck like glue. The nickname didn't bother her anymore, or, if nothing else she told herself it didn't. But, she thought, her peers most certainly thought plastic when they saw her.
In some ways, she supposed, it might have even been fitting.
Finally, she found herself back in her desk in her trigonometry class. The content bored her and she'd been gone long enough that she wasn't even sure what was going on at that point. She reached for her purse at her side, pulling out her pack of gum and sticking a piece between her teeth. A tap came on her shoulder, and the girl groaned silently, rolling her big green eyes before turning over her shoulder to see who it was.
Of course, she should have known. Bea closed her eyes for a moment to suppress rolling them before tilting her head at the boy who'd tapped her shoulder. Haris Haddad, the only person in their 2,000 person school with a worse reputation than herself. "What, Haris?" Bea asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You might wanna give me that gum instead of chewing it. Heard gum's got calories." he snickered, raising his eyebrows at her. The girl straightened her neck and raised her chin, looking slightly down her nose at the boy before her trademarked mean girl smile returned.
"I'm sure you should be far more afraid of calories than I ever will be. I'm astounded they let you out on the basketball court anymore, given how fat you're getting." she sneered, turning back into her desk, getting the sensation of eyes on her. She turned her attention to the teacher's desk to find her glaring Bea down. The Spanish girl sighed and got out of her desk, knowing Mrs. Haddad hadn't taken well to the girl chewing into her son.
"Bea, do we need to have a chat?" the teacher asked, raising her brows at Bea over her glasses. Bea frowned, knowing that Haddad had had it out for her for years. Of course she did. Bea had humiliated her son in front of nearly 2,000 kids when they were in grade 9, and he'd never lived it down.
The girl had no regrets, of course. The son of a bitch had it coming.
The entire school had congregated for the junior boys' volleyball team's semi-final game. Bea sat in the bleachers, sucking on a lollipop and scrolling through her instagram instead of watching the game. She didn't know why anyone bothered attending these things, because the games were only interesting if you were allowed to play them. But, she was there by force, and there she stayed.
Eventually, a text came in from her boyfriend. He'd said he was on his way to pick her up so they could 'blow that popsicle stand' as he'd put it. With a smile on her face, Bea locked her phone and looked up at the game. She had no idea what was going on or who was winning because she really hadn't been paying attention to the game at all. Quickly, she realized they were at half time, as the boys were just visiting among each other casually.
She got up from her seated position, ready to walk out of the gymnasium when the sound of a boy clearing his throat caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder, one eyebrow cocked up in the direction she'd heard the sound. "Where you going so soon, Belmonte?" Haris had shouted from where he stood in front of the bleachers. Much of the student body turned their attention to the girl standing by the doors.
"What's it to you?" she shook her head, eyes narrowed.
"I'm just a little surprised you're not sticking around to turn in your ticket to bone town." he snickered. This was just how Haris was, he'd relentlessly tormented her for years. Like he had some kind of sick obsession with making her life a living hell.
"Actually," Bea cleared her throat, plastering on a smile so fake it could've been made of plastic. "I'm going to fuck your brother." she shrugged at him, still smiling. Haris' jaw dropped in shock. His brother was the football team's quarterback and poor, sweet Haris had been in his shadow all his life, in spite of his desperate attempts to make his presence something worth even acknowledging.
The student body errupted in oohs and oh shits, some even starting to laugh as Bea took her leave from the gymnasium.
"No, Mrs. Haddad, we don't need to chat. I was just having a little chat with Haris." the lie slipped off the girl's tongue like it was nothing. Of course it did. Her whole life was a lie. "Was that all you needed?" her voice came out as sickly sweet. Mrs. Haddad rolled her eyes and shooed the girl away back to her desk.
She took a seat again and began staring at her trig textbook. This couldn't be that hard, she thought, furrowing her brow at it and setting to work.
After what felt like hours, the bell finally run and Bea set off to her next class. She sat down in chemistry, pulling out her notebook to doodle instead of listening. It was no secret that Bea liked to draw, she was the top of her art classes all throughout high school. Of course, her maths and sciences teachers loathed that she didn't even pretend to pay attention, but the truth was she couldn't be bothered. Her hands sketched out roses and chrysanthemums, tulips and lilies. She'd always very much enjoyed pretty things.
But, as with everything she touched, the pretty flowers dissolved into ugly things. Things she considered ugly, anyway. Pill bottles and scales, nooses and notebooks. Her absentminded doodling had her withdrawn from the class as a whole to the degree that she hadn't even noticed the bell go and someone standing over her shoulder. Immediately upon sensing someone's presence, she slammed the notebook closed and looked over her shoulder with an angry glare. The person backed off immediately, but he held worry in his eyes. Her ex best friend, Dasan Sundance frowned at her, his dark brown eyes filled to the brim with concern.
"Oh, Day." she tried to smile as she tucked her notebook into her bag. "It's been a while. You look good." the boy frowned at her and placed a hand on her shoulder, not speaking. She and Dasan hadn't ended on the best terms, she'd admit, and it was her fault.
He was a selective mute, an outcast, just like Bea. The two had become fast friends, spending every minute together, communicating through little notes they slipped each other between classes. But one day his notes stopped coming, and he withdrew a lot. She'd tried to get to the source of it, even went to his house to find his mum to ask what was going on with him. His mother, Nuna, let her into the house immediately, seeming surprised by Bea's concern, stating that Dasan had been fine. She'd run upstairs to go check on him, hoping maybe the two of them could play one of those stupid video games he liked, or work on his project car. She'd found him hanging by his neck from the ceiling fan, and tore him down immediately. Called the police and he'd spent a month in psychiatric care.
He'd never forgiven her for saving his life that day, and she knew that. She didn't regret her decision to save him, but she did regret letting him push her away.
Dasan gestured to her backpack where her notebook was, frown still set deeply in his face. "It's nothing, I promise. I just got a little carried away with contrasting the imagery on the page." she laughed, hoping like hell it sounded real. The truth was, she knew why those things had gotten drawn, but she didn't want to talk about it. "Here, walk with me. Maybe we can get coffee or something, catch up a bit?"
Dasan bit his lower lip and ran his hand through his hair. He pulled his mouth to the side and looked down at the floor. Bea knew him well enough to know that meant he had to be getting home. "That's fine, for sure. Do you want a ride?" he shook his head, smiling a bit at her. "Oh! You got your car back. That's awesome."
Dasan flashed her a grin filled with braces and nodded, seeming quite pleased with himself. She was proud of him, the poor guy's anxiety was so severe he didn't get to school most days, so to know he'd managed to make enough progress that the ever-protective Nuna would let him drive again was a huge relief.
"It was great to see you, Day. Take care of yourself." Bea forced on another smile before she retreated from the classroom, down the stairs and out of the building toward her car. Leaned against the bumper of her car was her only real friend, Trial. Trial's full lips were pursed in something of a snicker at Bea when she saw the girl crossing the parking lot.
"It's about damned time." she laughed for a second before her eyes settled on Bea's face, which must've read as quite upset because the other girl frowned. "What's goin' on? You look... almost kind of distraught. That's new, usually you just look bitchy." the joke brought a twitch of a smile to Bea's face.
"It's nothing. I just bumped into Dasan." she shrugged, unlocking the car and getting into the driver's seat, tossing her purse and binder into the back. She put on her seat belt, and Trial got in and put on hers, balancing her binder on her lap.
"Colour me surprised. I haven't seen him in months." Trial's expression was most definitely surprised. Bea nodded in response, turning over the ignition of the car and starting her drive to take Trial home.
"It hasn't been months since he's been to school, but I get what you mean. It's been at least a week since I saw him. Months since he acknowledged me though." the Spanish girl said with a shrug as she pulled into the Tim Horton's drive thru. "You want anything?"
"Yeah, just a medium ice capp." Trial smiled, fishing out a toonie and a quarter, placing it in the change cup tucked into one of the cupholders. Most of the change in the nearly overflowing cup had come from Trial giving her change for coffee, since they made the same trip nearly every day after school.
"Welcome to Tim Horton's what can I get for you?" a man's voice echoed out of the speaker at the order-station.
"Yeah, hi, can I get a large dark roast black and a medium iced capp?" Bea asked, making sure her tone came out politely instead of its usual sarcastic droll.
"That'll be a large dark roast black and a medium iced capp?" the girl confirmed the order. He told her the total and she drove up to the window, her card poised to tap the machine. She tapped her card and he passed her the drinks, iced capp first, then coffee. Bea quietly thanked the drive thru worker and drove away.
"I don't know how you drink that shit." Trial shook her head taking a sip of her sugary monstrosity. "But as for Day, I think you've gotta let him go, Bee. I don't know why he's so angry but he's clearly not getting over it."
"I..." Bea breathed a heavy sigh. "I know." she ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head. As they approached Trial's house, she pulled the car to a stop about a block down.
"Not this again." Trial rolled her eyes. "Bee, it's fine. I'm fine."
"I-"
"You give me this speech every day. It's fine I promise. Nothing's going to happen." Trial lifted up her binder and unclipped her seatbelt.
"What if one day something does happen?" she looked up at her friend with a serious expression. Trial just shook her head and smiled.
"Then, I dunno. I guess we'll find out. Stop freaking out about it." the girl planted a kiss on her cheek and hopped out of the car, wandering down the street toward her house. It was old and derelict, looked like somewhere no one could live, much less want to. But Trial insisted she stay there with her sister. To look after her, being that she was caught in a horribly abusive relationship. That, of course, was what worried Bea. Crest hadn't laid a hand on Trial, not yet, but she wouldn't put it past him to try.
Once Trial made it into the house, Bea drove off to her own home. Her mother sat at the table, staring off into the distance as she often did when she was drunk. She closed the door softly behind her, but caught her mother's attention anyway.
"Oh, Bee. You're home." her mother remarked, her voice devoid of emotion. Bea had heard of angry drunks, of crying drunks, of excitable drunks, but never of empty drunks. Never of the kind of drunken person who seemed to have no emotions whatsoever. But that was what her mother was, and Bea almost preferred it when she was drunk. At least then the screaming stopped.
"Hi mum." Bea waved as she set her binder down in the hallway. She thought about asking her mother how her day was, but when the thought crossed her mind she shook it away. She didn't particularly care how her day was, and her mother didn't care how her day was. So, she opted to leave the conversation at that and retreat up the stairs to her bedroom.
Once she was in the refuge of her bedroom, she was back at the mirror. The girl inspected her features carefully to make sure that nothing had changed. The coffee had served to make her bloated, her hair was displaced due to the wind. She shed her blazer and polo shirt, and pulled off her uniform skirt to inspect her thighs, the sight of them instilling a feeling of defeat in her chest. She wrapped her hands around the thickest part of her thigh, upset when her thumbs didn't quite come together at the top. The girl didn't know if she was more scar tissue or fat.
She sat herself on the floor in front of her full body mirror, curled up in a ball and staring at her reflection with distaste. A whimper escaped her lips as the reality of her self-hatred caught up with her. She crawled over to her bed as the tears started to run down her cheeks.
Under her bed was a small box, which she pulled out. In it was mostly snacks she'd taken from the kitchen to hide here so that the food would disappear from the kitchen, making it look like she ate. Hidden beneath the plentiful supply of Fiber One bars and other miscellaneous snack foods she'd once really enjoyed, was a razor blade. She picked it up between her beautifully done acrylic's and twirled it around her thin fingers, looking at it like she'd never seen it before.
She hated that she'd become this girl, but she'd been her for so long that she didn't know who else to be. At the end of the day, there was no one, not even Haris Haddad, she hated more than the girl in the mirror.
