The Love I Never Knew

It has been an enormous humiliation. I knew hanging out with them was a terrible idea, but I didn't know it would be this terrible. It's like I'm still sleeping and I'm in a suffocating dream, and there's no way out. my eyes are twitching at my phone, and my veins are breaking out of my skin. My heart is pounding in a hard beat.  I launch from my bed. Tossing my phone behind me, I hear it bounce on my huge white bed. When mom told me, I couldn't believe it, and she is grounding me for a full two weeks. How on earth did I get into this mess? I get dressed for school.

Even if I know everybody will be laughing their lungs out at me, that does not stop me from looking my usual best. I just need to wave it aside. If I can bear riding with my mom to school for two weeks, I can certainly get past this. I take a lot of time looking at myself In the mirror to be sure I'm all good and prepared to be mocked.

"Sam!" My mom shouts my name from downstairs, her voice jangles in haste.  This is tough and restraining. I'll be a punctual student for two weeks. Morally good, and personally upsetting.

"Coming!" I snap a reply and walk out of my room.

As I walk down the stairs, I see my mom pacing around the room like a man who's waiting for his wife outside the labor room. She looks up and sees me. She stops pacing and turns to me, placing her hand on her hip and pushing it to one side. It's like she's posing for a camera except she's frowning, and you are not supposed to frown for cameras. She purses her lips, and anger is swimming in her blue-ocean eyes. Well, she's my mom, Regina Raymond, but she goes by Gina. She's like the queen of Seattle. She has this perfect body, long chocolate-brown hair, glowing skin that is equally soft, and an average height.  I forge a smile. my hand is still clutched to the handrail, and the other is on the straps of my school bag -which is on one shoulder.

"Do you have to put on makeup?" She growls, and her eyes scrutinize my dress.

"Isn't that dress too short?"  I look at my flora gown that is a little above my knee. And now I think it's not short enough.

"Mom it's not, The heels make them look so," I say, and she looks down at my 4-inch cut-out leather heels and back at my face.

"You sure do know how to look good," she tells me.

"So narcissistic," she mutters

and picks up her red handbag from the Table, along with her car keys. She places the handbag on the crook of her elbow and sashays outside. I look at her and shake my head. She's wearing a blue curvy gown, knee-length with a little back slit, and she's questioning me about what I'm wearing? She shouldn't do that when she's the worst at it, but equally the best at it. She drives with grease lightning, making me feel nauseous. Finally, we get to my school, and she stops the car. I glance at my reflection in a rare-view mirror.

"You look beautiful already," she says sarcastically, and I smile at her as I climb down the SUV, about to head to my den of mockery.

"I love you!" she shouts out to me from the rolled-down window and drives off before I could say it back. Wonder where she's in a hurry to. Probably one of her patients is dying and desperately needs help. My mom is a neurosurgeon, she owns the best hospital in the city, and she takes her work very seriously, creating less time for herself and me. Well, I don't care, she has never really had my time anyways, and I'm so used to it. I feel like sprinting after my mom. I can't even turn to school and see those mocking faces. I tighten my lips and look down the road.

"Sam!" a tiny sweet voice screams my name. With an idea of who that is, my tight lips spread into a warm smile. I turn, flipping my dark straight hair. feeling a little cocky because of her. Yeah, that's Tracy, my tan-skin slender best friend. She's standing close to the school building. She waves at me. And I stride towards her, paying less attention to the Murmurers. She has always got my back since we were kids, and I have always got hers. I reach her, and we peek at each other's cheeks. "It's nice to see you not in a bikini Sammy Raymond," she teases, and I chuckle -almost forgetting my plight. We discuss this as we enter the school. As we walk up the hallway, practically everyone's eyes are darting at me, a mocking smile fixed on their faces. Only a few dare to laugh out loud. Tracy pulls me closer around her arm. I know she's being a sweetheart, but this is awkward.

"What are you doing?" I whisper, looking forward. Three girls sashay pass us, cackling and looking at their phones, then at me. Yeah, I know what they are looking at. A half-naked picture of me that isn't me. Why would someone fake this? Tracy lets go of me and swivels at them. "Yeah, laugh. Your ass ain't sexy as hers." She huffs as she rotates two fingers at their asses. She faces the front, and we continue striding to class.

"Thanks," I tell her, beaming.

She gives me a warm-hearted smile and pats my back. "I gat you boo." Of course, she does.

"You know that isn't my ass right?" I ask her. She Purses her lips and shrugs slightly, then she strides forward. I pause. "Tracy?!" I yell, and I hear her chuckles. I can't believe Lucian dared me to wear a bikini. I did it because It was just me and his stupid friends, I didn't think his psycho friends were going to edit fake boobs and ass of me. I'm never playing truth or dare again, not after last night. We get into the classroom and Lucian winks at me. He is my second best friend with blond messy hair. Yeah, I'm friendful, at least I was. Lucian has a great sense of humor, but sometimes he takes it too far. And even if he annoys me at times, I just still love him. Plus I can't stay angry at him for that long, and he knows that. I roll my eyes at him as I sit, just to give him a fake I hate you look.

Tracy sits at her desk which is a seat away from me by my left.

 Later, Mrs. Huston, our chubby literature teacher walks into the class, her blond hair resting on her shoulders. "Hi everyone," she says standing in front of the classroom, a novel held in her hands. Mrs. Huston's class is my favorite of all, but she ain't my favorite. She doesn't like me for some reasons I don't know, but I don't care. I hardly bond with people.

"How was your night, Sam?" she asks me sarcastically, and almost everybody bursts into laughter.