The Other Part Of Me
Chapter 1
Layla
Have
you ever done something and just asked yourself "why"?
That's the question I constantly ask myself. Why did I take
dance? Why did I take four AP classes? Why did I let my
bestfriend walk out of my life? Why do my parents hate me? People
always tell me how perfect my life is and how much they wish they
could be like me. What those people don't realize is how
imperfect my life is. My parents fight every night over my dance
expenses and, even though I'm not going for two more years,
my college expenses. Lately they have been talking about a
divorce. It's my fault they're getting a divorce. There
is no other child to blame for it. My older brother died from
cancer when I was seven. It's just me. He was my role model,
the person I wanted to be like. My parents tried to get rid of
his things, but I wouldn't let them. His room is still the
way he left it nine years ago. Sometimes I lay in his bed and
just stare up at the glow in the dark stars he has on his
ceiling. Sometimes I stare at his picture on his dresser until my
eyes start to sting. His death caused the most hurt in my life.
People think I'm this happy go lucky girl who has no issues
in life. "She has money, she has talent, she's
smart," that's all true, but love is the most important
thing. I don't have that. I need it.
* * * * * *
I woke up to the sound of my mother
yelling up the stairs for me to get up. It's Monday. I hate
Mondays. I have school, class council meeting after school,
ballet after that, jazz after ballet, then work until eight, and
then homework. I yelled back to her, "I'm up, I'm
up." I stretched out slowly, still under my fuzzy pink
comforter, before getting out of bed. I walked across the room to
turn my hair straightener on, and then hopped in the shower. I
was in there for about fifteen minutes, I didn't want to get
out. The water was so warm and my mom refused to turn the heat on
in the house. When I finally got out, I blow dried and
straightened my hair. Then came the hardest part of my morning:
picking out what to wear. I spend a half an hour each day trying
to figure out what to wear to school. After thinking for awhile,
I decided on my dark blue skinny jeans, a pink
sweater,
and my chestnut colored Uggs.
I went downstairs for breakfast. I
noticed that my dad wasn't sitting at the breakfast counter
like he usually was. "Mom, where's dad?"
"Uh, I think he went to put gas in the car."
"The car is still in the garage. Nice try, where is
he?"
She sighed, "He went to stay with your grandparents for a
few days. We need a little break from each other."
"He couldn't say goodbye before he left?"
"He left at one in the morning. He didn't want to wake
you."
I started to get angry. "When is he coming back? This is
obsurd. There is no reason for him to leave. Go see a marriage
counseler or something."
My mother's voice was shaky, "Layla, calm down. I know
you don't like what's been going on, but there's
nothing you can do about it."
"I hate you! You aren't even trying to make it
work!" I screamed at her. I grabbed my bag off the counter
and walked out the door. I could hear my mother's sobs just
before I slammed the door.
I began to walk toward my bus stop.
Just as I was about to turn the corner, I saw my bus drive away.
I began running after it, but I couldn't run fast enough.
"I guess I'm walking two miles to school then," I
muttered to myself.