God You're Beautiful...

His lips were against hers. In full embrace, she couldn’t believe what was actually occurring! They were kissing. And she was enjoying every second of it. Was this is dream? Emma thought. Or was this actually happening? Either way, she couldn’t stop herself at all. She had to admit, for a boy who seemed fairly unromantically interested in her for 7 years, he was being a little over the top…even for Dakotah. She hoped he would never stop! It was amazing, he was taking off her shirt and…


What is that noise? She thought out loud. An alarm clock? It couldn’t be! She awoke, sweat dripping down her forehead. So it had been a dream. An amazingly perfectly wonderful dream, but a dream nonetheless…and that utterly disapointted her. She should have known it was, after all Dakotah Elliot Morrison, had never even given her a second glance. Not that she expected it. He was uncontainably and unjustly beautiful, and not to mention how smart he was. He wasn’t popular. But, that was really the only factor missing in his entire stature. Which turned out to be an advantage in Emma Ruth Lively’s place. Since she was far from the in crowd.


She jumped to her feet, and rushed to her overly dirty mirror.
Something wasn’t right…She thought to herself once again. Perhaps it was how unordinary brilliant his face was compared to hers, or maybe it was just the sleepy in her eyes. Either way, it was unchangeable, and permanent…just like her feelings for him.


She studied her profile in the mirror, careful to not miss when she spat in the sink after each stroke of her toothbrush. She wasn’t pretty, she wasn’t even plain…she was just ugly. Okay, maybe the word ugly is a bit extreme, but if you saw her, you’d get the picture. She had fiery red short hair, that looked unnaturally dyed, when indeed it was one hundred percent natural. It was straight today, which was a good sign, but it was still ugly…unless it was in the light that is.


Her height was fairly decent, if you call being under average okay. She was a little over five foot, perhaps five foot one, but she had stopped measuring when everyone else in her grade grew taller than she. She had blue/green eyes. Depending on the light she was in, and what she had on. They were her best feature, and she outliner them as much as possible. That is after all, what ugly girls do. She normally ended up going through at least two tubes of eyeliner each week, and not to mention all the extra makeup she needed to look less homely.


The one good thing about her, or at least she thought so, is that she was rich. No, no, not middle upper class…or even above middle upper class. Filthy rich. No kidding. Her father owned a computer programming industry, the best in the USA. And, luckily not everybody knew that. She didn’t need any extra attention, her face gave itself enough of it’s own. But, at least she knew when she came home from school each day, she could have anything she wanted…and I do mean anything.


“You ready hon?” Called Maybel, her step Mother from down the stairs. She preferred to call her May bells, but her father protested against it, even though Maybel was allowed to call her whatever she wanted.


“Umm yeah. Hold on a second. I’ll be right down.” Emma said, dashing back to the bathroom to put on one last coating of eye shadow. One more than she usually did, but she liked standing out. She wasn’t a dork, or a skater, or an emo. She was just Emma, and she liked that label. Even the Populars, and jocks respected her, and she wouldn’t see it any other way. Walking down the stairs at half pace, she pulled her iPod out of her backpack, turned the volume up, and turned Green Day on to blast through Maybel’s talking on the ride to school. Not that she didn’t like Maybel, she just liked the music more than her high pitched, annoying, motherly voice. “Okay, I’m ready.” She said, stepping towards the garage. “You going to drive today?”


Maybel shook her head parentally. “Well, I suppose I have no choice, since my daughter refuses to be a responsible adult, and take off those ear buds for half a nano second.” Ignoring her rude comment, Emma turned to look out the window. She hated it when Maybel called her, her daughter. She hadn’t actually birthed her, and she wasn’t even related to her. There was no way in hell she would ever replace her real mother. She couldn’t even touch her. And that was the truth.

* * *