This is the first chapter of a three part series, it starts off kinda slow, sorry.
I always knew I was different, just how different never hit me until now. But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, I should start at the beginning since that's where all tales begin.
Please bare with me, it's a little scatter brained.
Once upon a time, there was a girl with long golden tresses, and short hot pink dresses, with eyes a pale blue, and a complexion of a ripe pumpkin covered in glue.
Oh wait! Ha ha, that's my next door neighbor, and yes she does look like a pumpkin covered in glue, it's from all the expensive parisian powders, she covers herself in.
Her name is Ashley Ann Kennedy, and she talks like she's the long lost sister of Chip and Dale. You know the little chipmunks from Disney, and if you thought any different then get your head out of the gutter, she only goes there when she's not busy with Playboy, which is on Sunday's.
Kidding, just kidding.
This is a young adult novel, and I'm supposed to be PC.
Sorry I got side-tracked, like I said scatter brained.
My name is Chessa Vaene, middle name unknown, it's actually Victoria and I hate it, makes me think of an old crotchety woman.
Like I said my name is Chessa, like “chess” with an “uhh...” at the end. I'm seventeen years old, a junior at my local high school, and invisible to the human, animal, amphibian, insect, and extra-terrestrial race.
My appearance towards people, is not only invisible, it's dull. Like my hair, you would be nice and call it a light golden brown, and I would call it the color of an old ugly tweed blazer. The style of my hair is a matter-of-fact, in style right now.
Couple inches below the shoulder, straight as a board, thin as a piece of paper, and sheen less. Mousy even, with an unruly tiny retarded widow's peak, that doesn't know which way it wants to lay.
My eyes are a boring dull grey, hidden away by oval-shaped bifocals, names you might call me “Harry Potter,” or if you had the IQ of a fifth grader “four eyes.”
My nose is average, not a honker nor a button.
My lips, I sigh at the thought of them. My lips wold be something if I wanted to understand the meaning of lipstick or lip gloss, but I don't and so they remain pouty, full and rouge less.
I have the body of a twelve year old boy, and B cup boobs. Which I hide behind old ratty jeans, and an endless supply of over-sized sweatshirts, preferably dark colors.
I weigh about 110 lbs, and I'm about 5'6, so you can only imagine that I look like an anorexic stick.
You'll find out more about me, as the story goes on, but right now I have to start getting ready for another glorious day at Monarch Crest High School, in the cold and bitter town of Pointe Horizon, Maine.
“Chessa, love.” My mother's gentle voice called from far away. “It's time to get up, or you'll be late!”
Sitting up, I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my grey eyes. I could smell bacon coming from the kitchen, looking over at the bedside table, the digital clock read 5:45 a.m. Letting out a audible whine, I threw my comforter over my head and tried to fall back to sleep.
It was too early for school, I thought. Much to early, who has the brain power to work at this hour of the morning. I wondered, burrowing myself under the thick purple cover.
“Chessa!” my mom shouted, she was starting to sound pissed. “If you don't get up by the count of three, your going to regret it.
I made a face beneath the blanket, yes my mom still did the counting threat, you would think I was only five years old. She wishes, 'Life was easier when you were five.' my mother would tell me, as she started to remember the good old days.
“One!” she shouted, I could hear her rummaging through the drawers, her threat to scare me out of bed, it never worked. “Two!”
Leaving the fettle position I had contorted myself into, I swung my legs off the side of my queen size bed. “I'm up, I'm up!” I yelled, before she could get to three.
I heard her laugh, as the rummaging had stopped and all I could hear was the sizzle of the bacon.
Crazy woman, I thought going through my dresser drawers, finding a worn pair of blue jeans, a white tank top, a dark blue scoop neck long-sleeved shirt, and classic black converse high-tops.
Completely dressed, I reluctantly walked out of my room and headed towards the kitchen. Sitting down at the kitchen table, I annoying started to drum my fingers on the hard wooden table top.
My mother, Nilmandra Vaine, set down a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs. I dug in with as much enthusiasm as a fat man on his third piece of apple pie. Slowly chewing my mouth full, I watched my mom sit down across from me with a mug full of scalding black coffee.
I scrutinized her while she drank the disgusting muck, the Ethiopians and most Americans thought a good beverage.
She had mahogany colored hair, thick and wavy the softness and sheen of silk, her eyes were slightly tilted, beautiful slate grey eyes. Her nose was small and straight, her lips held their own natural cupids bow, a blush pink tint always held her cheeks. My mother was a very vivid and alive person, always laughing and smiling, unlike her somber daughter.
She was barely 5'5 and weighed as much or less then me, her body- well lets just say that men gawked at her more then at me.
“Chessa, quit dawdling, or your going to be late, again.” her soprano voice sang out.
I scowled, shoving my chair backwards I headed for the sink. “What does it matter?” I asked, wanting to toss the floral ceramic dishes into the sink, I was feeling destructive that morning. “Spring break is only two days away, and then after that freedom.”
Nilmandra sat there finishing up her cup of coffee, her perfectly shaped eyebrows, drawing together. I could tell she didn't want to hear my bitching, so I walked out, grabbed my messenger bag from the beige wing-backed chair, through on a chocolate brown zip-up hoodie, and stormed out of the house, making sure to slam the front door as hard as I could, I was feeling very destructive that morning.
Taking the keys to my black Mazda RX 8, from my pocket, I tried dodging raindrops. Turning the car on, the purring of the motor gave my goose bumps, I cranked the stereo up so loud that I was sure my ears would bleed, then I was on my way to hell, excuse me high school.
Walking from Pre-calculus to World History, I kept my head down, minding my own business. People didn't notice me, even though I had known them all since the second grade, I wasn't anything new, not a shiny new toy.
Occasionally people I sorta knew in the hallway, would say “Hi.” to be polite, but some nice girls like Holly Gardner, would stop and ask me how everything in my life was going, I would answer a straight 'good, or bad'
And other girls like Ashley Kennedy, would throw her nose up in the air at me, as I walked past her.
It didn't bother me either way, I'm like the color beige, people don't necessarily like beige. If you wanted to be nice in the way you were describing me, I guess you could say I was the color of oatmeal, everyone likes oatmeal, but not plain oatmeal. More like apple cinnamon, or maple brown sugar. But not plain oatmeal, or beige, or me.
I am bland to the human eye.
But around this time I do have someone to walk me to my class rooms from day to day, and they should be arriving in 3...2...1!
“Chessa!” a deep sultry voice, cried out behind me.
Turning around, I smiled the first time that morning. Standing before me, were two of the greatest people in the world, my best friends forever and always.
The deep creamy voice, belonged to my Native-American friend, she was a Powhatan, claims to be a direct descendant of Pocahontas. Her name Chekotay Gray, but she prefers to be called Cherry, for short.
“Hey, Cherry.” I greeted her with a hug, we go way back, diapers maybe.
Next to greet me was little Irina Kolesnikov, or Rini for short. Rini's mother swore that she had blue blood in her, whatever that meant.
If I were to guess what it meant, I would guess that both my friends were somehow related to cool dead historical people, and I am still oatmeal.
How cool is my life?
Both my friends were gorgeous, unlike me.
Rini had bouncy spiral red curls, striking blue eyes, a body similar to a super-models, shorter then me. She had the aura of someone who was a long lost descendant of the Romanov's, she scared the boys at school, they were to immature for her, it was that and she liked to wear black leather. You would think that teenage boys would love that look, apparently not.
Along the outside of Rini's forearms, is a tattoo of two Russian Proverbs, one arm I'm sure says something like, 'God wanted to chastise mankind, so he sent lawyers.' the other arm says, 'Eternal peace only lasts until the next war.'
But to be honest, I'm pretty sure that she lied to me and the tattoo's say something like, 'American Boys suck eggs, and Mikhail Baryshnikov is boss!'
Cherry on the other hand, is a giant for her age. She stands at 5'11, towering over most boys at school, so they really don't want anything to do with a “Freak-show” like her. Cherry has long black hair, course as the day is long. Her almond shaped eyes hold the darkest brown iris the world has ever known, you would think that her iris is black but when the light hits it just right you see a flicker of gold, her body is lean and fit.
Cherry has a cool little extra thing to, kinda like Rini only different. Cherry has five piercings in both her ears, and has her tongue pierced. Her parents weren't to happy about the tongue, but they had put their foot down on tattoo's and belly button piercings, a belly button piercings was a little to whorish for them.
And me, did I have any cool piercings or tattoos? No. My mother won't allow it.
Oh woe is me, for I am nothing but ugly tweed coats, and oatmeal!
