’m Constance Edwards, I turn 13 tomorrow, and I have light brown hair with teal eyes, not exactly tall but tall enough. I like mint Oreos, writing, and music. That’s it, I don’t like a lot of things, and however I do dislike everything. I’m awkward, I don’t talk that much, I like being alone but I’m not allowed to be. I’m not really a people person, I have good grades, and I’m kinda like a nerd. Except in those books or movies, the nerd is a really pretty girl who needed a makeover or just needed a different look. I doubt that will happen, I’m not pretty, I’m ugly, I’m not skinny, I’m fat. I’m overweight, not healthy. I live with my parents, my siblings, Katherine, and Aubree moved out a couple of years ago. They were the…show more content… I grab a granola bar and bag and run out the door to my bus stop. I run to my stop, not wanting to be late to school. The bus is heard behind me, not today, not today. I run even faster, almost there, just a little more. The bus comes to an abrupt stop, and its doors open. There are only five people, including me, at my bus stop. I get on and sit in a seat by one of my friends, Cara. She smiles at me; I give her half a smile.
“You know, you should try out for track, you always beat the bus.” She says, getting a brush out of her bag. I shake my head; even more people would target me then.
“No thanks, I already have a target on my back, I just hope today isn’t as bad.” I said the last part quietly, she eyes me. Not giving me personal space, I move away from her a little bit.
“Let me see your wrists and arms,” Cara had a certain look on her face, I didn’t like it, she was always so happy and carefree, not caring what people thought of her. One of the reasons I stick around her. I extend my arms and let her see; she puts her hand over her mouth. Her eyes look glossy, please don’t cry Cara, it doesn’t suit you. She then stars counting how many cuts there were. I’m confused.
“Cara, what are you doing?”
She looks up at me, “Seeing how many times I wasn’t there for you.”
She continued counting; she wiped tears from her eyes, and reached twenty four. She doesn’t know I cut my legs too, a reason why I wear pants all the time. She puts her head on my shoulder and