Ugly Words

ONE

For a moment, the only noise in the room was the sound of my heart breaking. I stared out into the darkness, searching for something to hold onto, but finding only shadows and silence.

The familiar notes of L'Air de la Poupée started to play through the speakers around the gymnasium, signalling the start of my performance. My limbs moved on their own accord, an invisible force pulling me to-and-fro. It felt as though I had strings tied to my wrists and ankles, a puppeteer orchestrating this charade.

The numbers snapped the count in my head—which sounded way too close to my mother’s voice for me to feel comfortable—as I repeated the step over and over.

Practice makes perfect, Emmeline. You best get practicing.

Perfect, perfect, perfect. A simple word that had been transformed into a mantra. It haunted me every second of the day.

One... Two... Plié... One...Two...Plié...

Form was important in ballet, but I could never seem to perfect it, no matter how much I practiced. I closed my eyes now, shutting out one darkness for another, and listened for the quiet beat behind the music. It flowed through me, sending a current across my skin until my body moved on its own accord.

My limbs disconnected from my brain, becoming one with the sweet melody. As I advanced across the room, it was as though I was floating. I was no longer Emmeline Beaumont; I was the lost lover of a deity. My heartbreak, my sorrow, was exemplified in every gesture and movement of my body.

I felt weightless as I danced, though I ached to be free. The heartbreaking notes of the song continued to play, and I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. I bit down on my tongue in anger, the metallic taste of my blood filling my mouth.

The tips of my slippers touched the laminate floors as I stood, straightening my back, and extending my arms into a pirouette. I imagined that my love could see me dance for his return. He would make his way back to me, across oceans and land and planets, until his arms could slip around my waist and my heart would be returned to its rightful owner. Silent tears fell from my face as I danced the pattern of the finale, where I would be lost in my deity’s arms for eternity.

But it wasn’t real. He wasn’t here.

My chest rose and fell in steady beats, and I came back to myself, opening my arms and finding I was once again in the dark. Slowly the lights began to flicker to life, illuminating the audience before me. Rows of benches were filled with people who featured in my every nightmare, both awake and asleep, causing me to startle. Worse was the fact that my mother was sitting front and centre, looking at me with disgust.

Even when someone is pulling your strings, you can’t do what you’re supposed to. She stood, coming close enough for me to see the anger beneath her scowl. A ballerina is grace and poise, and you are neither, Emmeline. How utterly disappointing.

Her words stung me, and I tried not to wince at the ice in her tone. Though I hated what she said, I also knew she was correct. Dance could be beautiful and moving and you could get lost in it, but I loathed it, nonetheless. It turned my mother into a monster, and I was nothing but an obstacle in its path.

Turning her back on me, my mother stormed through the doors and left me standing on aching feet, my tears forming a puddle at my toes. I squeezed my eyes together and willed for it all to stop, to disappear and leave me to my solitude. But my wishes were never granted.

Little miss piggy thinks she can dance, a voice sneered from the crowd.

Someone cheered and added, What a pathetic display!

I tried to cover my ears, but my arms were pinned in place by my side, forcing me to hear every comment.

Too fat for tutus.

Too ugly for ballet.

I was too much of everything they hated, and too little of what they wanted. Never enough and never quite right — I was the muse for their mocking and the target of their hatred.

Show us again, yelled someone from the crowd. Let us see how an animal dances.

No amount of pleading or crying made them stop, my pain only fuelling their fun. The fat one; the ugly one; the boring one... the easy one to hate. I was a waste of a body, of life. They were right; my entire existence was pointless.

Emmeline, said a voice, calling me from across the hall.

I pried my eyes open, the tears blurring my vision. The rows before me were still filled with people heckling me, but I could no longer hear them. A wall of silence was separating us, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Emmeline, the voice said again, louder now that the crowd was silenced.

A blinding light caught my eye from the edge of the gym. I tried to turn towards it, but my body remained stuck in place. My eyes burned from crying and prevented me from seeing who called to me, but the voice was gentler than those of the crowd.

Petal, it’s time to get up. Emmeline, let’s go.

My throat closed up with emotion as I realised who the voice belonged to. It had been so long since I heard his voice, heard his pet names and soft tone for me, that I hadn’t instantly recognised it. But I would know him anywhere.

Daddy! I cried out, fighting against the invisible bonds holding me in place. Dad!

The light from the open door shone brighter, beckoning me. Emmie, love, come on. It’s time.

As the door opened wider, I struggled against the grasp on me. Broken sobs tore free as I tried to escape, to run toward the person who had always made me feel loved and safe. But the more I struggled, the tighter the grips on me became.

Petal, you need to hurry. I can’t stay much longer, my dad called to me.

I could see the light slowly start to fade, the door closing as I fought for my freedom. My screams ricocheted around me, and I sobbed, broken-hearted, as the light finally flickered out. The moment the door clicked shut, the restraints on my limbs loosened and I was released, dropping to the cold floor soaked in my tears.

Pain erupted from every part of me, and I screamed at the top of my lungs, rage and grief and loathing laced in every decibel. I didn’t notice when the silent wall dropped, and the heckling continued. Nor did I notice when the room fell silent, and I was enveloped in darkness once more. I didn’t even notice when the music started again, and I was pulled into position.

I didn’t notice anything but the numbness in my heart and the fact that my heart was now so broken that I couldn’t hear it beat any longer. It was broken, and so was I.

THE INCESSANT BEEPING of my alarm stirred me from my sleep. I groaned, rolling over and patting my bedside table in search of my phone to make the screeching stop. I peered at the phone through my eyelashes and sighed. Seven forty-five, which meant I was going to be late for school.

The comfort of my king-size bed made it difficult to get up for the day. Not to mention, the nightmare still plagued my mind, making my bones weary. It had come again, the same torturous sequence playing in a loop. The dance. The clone. Our simultaneous deaths. My body was coated in perspiration from the fear I found rooted inside me every time I slept. After all, the scariest monsters were the ones inside our heads.

I needed to get moving. With a huff, I rolled myself over and planted my feet on the cold laminate flooring of my bedroom. A chill ran through me, my shoulders twitching in response before I padded out of my bedroom and into the bathroom to shower.

Once my monotonous morning routine was complete, I finally looked at my reflection in the mirror. I tilted my head to the side and stared at myself. It was a bizarre feeling to not quite recognise my own reflection, but recently I hardly recognised anything about myself. It’s why I had gone to the salon the previous day. I wanted the mirror to reflect what I saw. Someone haunted by darkness and struggling to fit in with the world.

But as I stared at my reflection, I wasn’t sure that I had made the right decision.

I attempted a smile as my fingers slipped through the soft curls. What was once long, blonde, and straight was now a crimped pixie cut, dyed a light shade of cocoa. I had chosen the colour in an attempt to be as opposite to my mum as possible, though the dark contrast made my shadows stand out in a way I wasn’t sure I liked. The style, however, was a welcome change.

I offered my reflection a small smile in solidarity before making my way back to my bedroom to get dressed.

I pulled a pair of washed-out black jeans from my drawers and wrangled them over my thighs. I wished they were washed-out as an attempt at fashion, but they were really the only pair that still fit me.

A plan, black, loose-fitting tee matched with a baggy jumper completed the outfit. Still a little out of breath from the feat of pulling on jeans, I perched on the edge of my bed and pulled on my favourite boots.

After unplugging my phone from the charger and grabbing my bag, I made my way downstairs, taking them two at a time.

I rounded the corner too fast and slid across the tiles as I entered the kitchen. Much to my dismay, my mum was already sitting at the island with a cup of coffee. Her bleach blonde hair was rightly clipped into rollers on top of her head, her face already covered in a thick layer of makeup. She looked beautiful, which only annoyed me more.

Good morning, Mum.

Morning, Em— She cut herself off as she looked up from her phone, staring at my hair.

I smiled at her surprise. You okay, Mum?

Emmie, what the hell have you done to your beautiful hair? she cried, jumping off her stool. She rounded the island until she could stretch her arm out and brush her fingers across the strands hanging over my eyes. A small yelp escaped her lips. Why?

I rolled my eyes and stepped around her to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I just fancied a change.

You had such pretty, long hair! Now you don’t even look like my daughter.

I tried not to flinch, knowing she just wanted a reaction from me. I watched as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before taking her seat again to tap away on her phone. No doubt all of her friends would be getting the tale of her treacherous daughter who cut all her hair off in spite.

It’s my hair. I don’t see what the big deal is, I said with a shrug.

She interrupted her texting to glare at me before returning her attention to her phone.

This had gone exactly as I had expected, so I wasn’t overly bothered by her reaction.

I rummaged the cupboard for my Pop-Tarts, only to come up empty-handed. Have you seen my Pop-Tarts?

Yes. I binned them. I twisted around on my heels and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for an explanation. They have so much sugar in them. I thought it would be best for you if we stopped keeping them in the house, darling.

Here we go.

Mum, I paid for them myself. You can’t just bin my own groceries.

She creased her brows and did her best to fake a look of compassion. Look, Emmie, love. You’ve put on a few pounds over the summer. I really think you could do without the Pop-Tarts.

Did she really have to be so damn condescending? She always had to say something about my weight. She couldn’t just let me be myself. But there was no point in calling her on it; I had tried that before and she always refused to listen to my feelings.

I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the house, doing my best to keep the tears from falling until I was well down the street and away from the prying eyes of our neighbours.

KNOWING THERE WAS ONLY one person I could trust to vent my feelings to, I decided to go to see my best friend. She was always the person to pick me up and validate my feelings of hurt whenever my mum made comments like that. The ten-minute walk was enough time to help me calm down and clear my head before I saw Kate.

Mum and I had a big house considering it was just the two of us, but it was nothing compared to the palace Kate lived in. She stayed in the posher part of town where the houses were actually mansions and the cars in the driveways were mostly for show.

By the time I had reached her, there was no sign that I had been crying, and I pushed my conversation with Mum to the back of my mind and locked it away to deal with later.

My best friend was waiting outside for me as usual, a book in her hand as she leaned against the wall of her garden. She was in her own world, so engrossed in what she was reading that she didn’t hear me come up beside her.

I forced a cough to get her attention and tried not to laugh as she jumped from her skin.

Hell, Emmie! That’s not funny! she cried, swatting my arm with her book as she tried to suppress her own laugh.

I grinned and took her bag from her while she smoothed out her striped pinafore. Her raven hair had been brushed into a tight bun and tied with a hot pink scrunchie. She always looked so funky and chic, her mismatched style somehow regarded as fashionable rather than weird.

If only I looked like her...

Kate snapped me out of my thoughts with a click of her fingers. She took her bag from me. So, how did she react?

I rolled my eyes, which made Kate bark out a laugh. I don’t even look like her daughter anymore, apparently.

Looping her arm through mine, Kate pulled me towards the school. She let her laughter die out and rested her head on my shoulder as we walked. Urh, does she have to be so cruel? Well, I think you look incredible, and my opinion is the only one that actually matters anyway. Don’t pay attention to her, Emmie.

I kissed the top of Kate’s head and smiled, grateful to have her. Her intentions were kind, but it didn’t matter what she said, my mum’s words would always hurt. I could try and convince myself that it didn’t bother me, but every time she said something horrible, it pierced my heart like a dagger, and I was left feeling smaller and more alone than before.

People who had normal families, people like Kate, just couldn’t understand how dysfunctional mine really was.

We made it to school with ten minutes to spare, much to my surprise considering how late I had woken up. Apollo High School was a grand building situated in the dead centre of town. The sandstone exterior made it look dated and old, but the inside of the building was rather beautiful, with brightly coloured floors and murals painted on the walls by art students. As much as I hated school, even I couldn’t deny that Apollo High School was pretty to the eye.

Kate kissed my cheek and ran off to the gymnasium, eager not to miss cheerleading practice and face the wrath of Penelope Williams—head cheerleader, head girl, and the head of the cruel clique of popular students. I often wondered why Kate would put herself in that position, having to hang around with a bunch of fakes. But they came from her world more than I did, and I didn’t want to risk causing a rift between us by questioning her choices.

Shouting goodbye to my friend, I took a deep breath and stepped into the crowded hallway of Apollo. People were milling about in deep conversation, gossiping and swapping stories about what they had done over summer break. I could hear the chatter about family trips to the Maldives and attending concerts of bands I had never even heard of.

I wish my summer had been that normal.

Kate had gone to visit her grandmother in France for most of the six-week break, leaving me on my own. Without her, I had spent most of the summer locked in my room in order to avoid my mother and her pompous friends.

As I walked to my locker, I could feel the stares of everyone as they caught sight of my hair. Anxiety rose in me, my stomach beginning to churn as my classmates started to whisper.

I pulled my key out of my pocket and tried to insert it into my locker with trembling hands, missing the keyhole more than once. I breathed a sigh of relief when the key finally slid into the lock and opened for me.

Grabbing the textbooks required for my Spanish and History classes, I ran to class without making eye contact with anyone.  I had almost reached my first class when I heard the clicking of heeled boots behind me. I could recognise that sound anywhere. I pulled my books close to my chest and tried to steady my breath, fearing the confrontation about to happen.

Emmie, honey, did you borrow those clothes from my dad?

Snickering echoed around me as I turned and came face to face with Rosie Fellows, one of Penelope’s clones.

My cheeks burned as the gathering group closed ranks around us. I could feel my legs going weak under me. I backed up against the wall closest to me, Rosie following my every step. Her entourage flanked her, a girl gang ready to rip me apart.

What do you want, Rosie? I managed to squeak out, the sound of my voice suddenly foreign to my ears.

Rosie smiled, teeth bared and her hot pink lipstick making her look even more menacing. She reached out and I flinched despite myself, cursing inwardly as she took a strand of my hair between her fingers and tugged. I don’t want anything, silly. I just wanted to compliment you on your new hairstyle. It’s very...chic.

I narrowed my eyes as she took a step back, smiling again. There was a glint in her eye that I couldn’t quite decipher, making me feel more uneasy than I already was. Her friends all mimicked her, false smiles and fake eyelashes batting away.

I forced myself to stand up a little straighter and plastered on my own fake smile. Thank you, I guess.

That was exactly what Rosie had been waiting for.

The moment those words left my lips, the feral smile was back, and she winked at Amy, the girl beside her.

I think I’ve seen it somewhere before. Let me think... She tapped her finger against pursed lips. I’ve got it! My little brother got that exact same haircut last week. I wonder if you went to the same hairdresser?

The girl gang started laughing like a pack of hyenas while Rosie grinned, pleased with herself. She watched me steadily hoping for a reaction. Embarrassment rippled through my body, but I tried my best to keep my face straight, praying that I wouldn’t cry in front of them and give them the satisfaction. I had made the mistake of breaking down before and they only used it as fuel for their vindictive games.

Time seemed to last forever as she surveyed me, a fire building in her eyes as she realised I wouldn’t give her the reaction she wanted. She took a step towards me and leaned in close to my ear, her breath hot the side of my cheek. Don’t you dare think you can show me up in front of all these people. Remember your place.

Without warning, she smacked the books from my hands. Her lips curled into a cruel smile as they fell to the ground. Taking a small step back, she lifted her right foot up and dragged it across the top of my history book, leaving a chalky print on the cover.

Oops. Clumsy Emmie. I think you dropped your books, she sang, pretending to act concerned as her pack giggled around her.

Blowing me a kiss, she spun on her heels and clicked her way down the corridor, leaving me to pick up the mess.

As soon as they were out of sight, I allowed myself to breathe again. A tear escaped as I bent down to gather my books, brushing the mess off with my sleeve.

I don’t know why I thought a haircut would change anything in my life. It just made it worse.

Life always seemed to get worse.

I glanced at the time on my phone and saw that I only had two minutes to make it to class. During our commotion, the halls had emptied. Everyone had bustled to their classrooms, which meant I didn’t need to worry about anyone seeing me cry as I walked the final few corridors to History. I wiped my tears away with a tissue from my bag and told myself to breathe.

You can do this, I whispered to myself. But deep down, I knew it would only get worse.

What a wonderful start to the school year.

TWO

By the time the bell rang for lunch, I was exhausted beyond measure. My confrontation with Rosie had taken its toll on me. Afterward, I had sent a quick text to Kate, telling her about the situation. But upon checking my phone as I entered the cafeteria, she still hadn’t replied despite a blue tick beside my messages.

I pocketed my phone with a solemn sigh and made my way to the far-too-long queue to get lunch.

Apollo High’s cafeteria was much like every other school: clusters of round tables and uncomfortable plastic chairs, cliques loitering at every turn, and the wait for food that would take up most of the lunch hour. The plus side to eating from the school’s limited selection was that it was mostly low-calorie meals in accordance with the new health board measures to combat obesity in children. It meant that I was able to eat my meal without hearing my mum’s judgemental voice in my head, stomaching the fact that it may not look or taste all that appetising.

I could hear the young boys behind me sniggering and making comments about my weight. It wasn’t like I was obese—I mean, sometimes it felt like that, but it didn’t make it true. But I certainly didn’t look like any of the girls around me. My thighs touched, my ass was prominent, and my hips were wide I was noticeable among the sea of my model-esque peers, even if I didn’t want to be.

One of the boys whispered something vulgar, sending the rest of the group into an uproar. I turned around and flipped them off. This made them laugh even harder, so I swallowed the urge to shout and turned my back on them instead, taking my phone out of my pocket to check if Kate had messaged me back yet.

No new messages.

I sighed and tried my best to tune out the giggling while I focused on the shortening queue in front of me.

The menu said they were serving grilled chicken salad with a side of sweet chili sauce. It was my favourite out of the small salad options they usually served, and I wanted nothing more than to pour the sweet, sticky sauce over it and devour it. I was starving after having skipped breakfast, but my mum’s voice drifted into my head again. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and tried to refocus. Every time I took a step forward, I could hear her telling me I could do with losing a few pounds.

When it was finally my turn at the head of the queue, I found myself saying, Grilled chicken salad. No sauce, please

I made my way to a table in the very back corner of the cafeteria, flopping down into a chair with my bag dumped on the floor beside me. It was far easier for me to watch people talk to each other than it was to actually get involved in the conversation.

Normally Kate would sit with me, and we would make up scenarios about what each group was talking about. The person who could create the most bizarre scenario would win, and the loser would have to buy the winner something from the vending machine as a prize. Kate’s favourite was a peanut butter and chocolate breakfast bar; mine was the strawberry and cream chocolate bar that reminded me of being little and visiting my grandmother, who always seemed to have an endless supply of them.

Without Kate to keep me company, I felt extremely exposed sitting at a table in front of everyone. I opened the sealed container of salad and sunk my fork into it. Chewing on the leaves made me feel like a rabbit, but I munched down on the tasteless sustenance anyway.

I was about to take my second forkful when I was interrupted by the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. I turned my head to the left and saw Tate Harington.

If Penelope was queen of Apollo High, then Tate was king. With his chiselled jaw, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that could melt even the hardest of hearts, it wasn’t surprising. His extremely good looks did not, however, mean he was a nice person. In fact, he was the most egotistical person I had ever had the misfortune of meeting.

And here he was, scooting his chair over to sit next to me: the outcast.

Tate. I nodded, barely able to muster saying his name.

His merry band of idiots sat at the table a few feet away from us, each of them twisted in their chairs to watch as though a play was about to be performed. Knowing Tate, it probably would be.

Hey, Emmie. Are you doing alright? He flashed me one of his infamous golden-boy smiles that made girls weak at the knees. Not me though. For me it felt more like a lion preparing to sink its teeth into its prey.

I wasn’t completely immune to his charms, of course—I was still human—and my stomach fluttered when his eyes met mine.

I forced myself to remember he was up to something, because there couldn’t be any other possible reason for him being this close to me unless he had an ulterior motive, so I kept my guard up.

I’m fine. Do you need something?

Tate grinned. Turning his torso so he was blocking my view of his friends, he rested his elbows on the edge of the table. When did you get a haircut?

Remembering Rosie’s fake pleasantness earlier was making me even more suspicious of the interest Tate was showing me now. And yet I couldn’t quite bring myself to get up and leave.

Instead, I croaked out, I went to the salon yesterday.

It looks really good, he said with a smile that seemed so genuine I could’ve believed him.

He slowly brought his hand up and brushed one of the strands of hair away from my eyes, a tender action that I was not expecting. I held my breath, willing myself not to make a sound. His eyes searched mine and I had to stop myself from turning my head so his fingers would graze my skin.

I gave in, tilting my head into his touch, his hand travelling down my cheek in a soft caress.  His fingertips brushed my neck, as soft as a breath. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to imagine for a second that social standards didn’t exist and that in a parallel universe, Tate wouldn’t be up to some boyish trick to humiliate me. Instead, he would be doing this for real, as though only him and I existed.

Before I knew it, his hand was travelling further down and roughly grabbed at my chest.

I gasped and leapt up, sending my chair flying backwards. What the hell do you think you’re doing?

Laughter from nearby made my face flush with embarrassment. I looked around to see that half of the cafeteria was watching us, amused expressions on their faces. Tate’s friends were watching intensely, too.

I turned my attention back to the boy in front of me, his angelic smile replaced with a cruel, crooked sneer.

Oh honey, did you really think I was into you? He threw his head back and barked out a bitter laugh. I curled my fists at my side, willing myself to stay calm. Me and the guys had a bet going on. They said you were going through a sex change. But I said, nah, you were all girl somewhere underneath your hideous bargain-buy clothes. So, they told me to prove it.

I felt nauseous as he spoke. The room was spinning as I looked around at