Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Bellcolor
I open my eyes and blink rapidly. Am I in Heaven?
I can see gleaming sunbeams and a white curtain waving in the wind. It’s nice , the cool breeze blows over my skin and I smile to myself.
My smile is quickly replaced by a twitch when a horrible stench hits my nose. Oh God, that’s gross, what is that? I find out that the smell’s coming from my stained and moist blanket. The sharp tang of bourbon mixed with vomit kicks me in the guts, and I’m so startled that I leap away and fall out of bed.
“Fuck…” I rub my butt.
What the hell is happening here? I examine my room.
My bed looks like a scene from a cheap horror movie, my window’s wide open, but I know I didn’t open it before my suicide attempt, which obviously failed.
The early morning wind caresses my face. Is this the divine revelation everyone talks about? A derisive snort slips out of me and I banish the thought. When did I become religious? That’s ridiculous.
When I hear rustling outside my door, I realize that Betty has arrived and is already energetically preparing breakfast. I jump to my feet and hurry to destroy the evidence of last night’s failure.
I change the sheets and throw them into the laundry basket along with the blanket and my stained clothes. Ugh, they stink! Betty will probably ask questions I’m not interested in answering, so I’d better run the washing machine myself before she reaches the laundry basket. Or maybe I’ll just throw them in the garbage before I head out to my graduation ceremony, because I have no idea how to operate the washing machine.
Fuck, fuck, fuck ! I curse in my mind, realizing I’ll have to go through this awful nightmare of a day after everything. I can’t even kill myself! How much of a loser do I need to be to fail such a simple task?
I spray my room with air freshener and run to the bathroom to wash up and get the stench off me. I have to destroy all evidence of this catastrophe.
Emotions surge up within me the moment my body relaxes under the stream of hot water. I feel a heavy lump in my stomach, but I can’t cry to relieve the unbearable pressure. I guess swallowing dozens of mood stabilizing pills will do that. At least I managed to kill something in my body, I think bitterly.
I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a big, soft white towel, standing in front of the mirror and wiping away the steam to examine my reflection. Fuck, what did I do to myself?
My coal-black hair is wet and sticking to my cheeks. My skin is paler than usual – which is understandable given the circumstances, and I push my hair back to get a better look at my eyes, which were always black. They still are, but now they have strange pigmentation, white dots decorating the irises of my eyes, and I stand on the tips of my toes to get closer to the mirror and examine them up close.
Holy shit, I’m in trouble.
What do I do now? There’s no way my father won’t notice this!
I know! I’ll pass by the Optica store on my way to school and buy some colored contacts. It’s the only thing that will hide whatever this is.
I hurry back to my bedroom, put on the elegant black dress my father bought especially for the graduation ceremony, which is of course way too expensive to be worn to a one-time event. I dry and arrange my hair and decide to skip makeup. It’ll only draw attention to whatever I’ve done to my eyes, or the contacts I’ll be wearing.
I examine myself in the mirror. The dress is very feminine, and hangs like a disguise off my childlike body. My frame is thin, absent of curves, and my breasts are so small it’s like they didn’t get the memo that they were supposed to grow during puberty, the prime of which I’m long past. Well, then… that’s the best I can do considering what I’ve got.
I put on flat black shoes, leave my room, head to the kitchen and sit by the table attached to the marble island. Betty serves me a bowl of porridge with fresh fruit, and I make a face. The smell, which usually tantalizes me, now stirs up a terrible nausea in me.
“Is everything alright, dear?” Betty looks at me.
“What’d you put in the porridge? It smells awful!” I hold my nose.
“Nothing unusual. Soy milk-based oatmeal and brown sugar, and your favorite fruits, Bellcolor. Like always.” She puts her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling alright? You’re a bit cold and pale.” Her concerned face is too close, so I cast my gaze downward so she won’t notice my twisted eyes.
Suddenly, a brilliant idea flashes into my mind. Maybe I can get out of laundry duty after all. “I was actually throwing up practically all night last night, my sheets are ruined.”
“Oh no!” she cries out. “Sweetheart, should I tell your father? What time is it in Tokyo?” So dramatic. Then she starts scuttling around the kitchen, probably looking for her cellphone.
“No, no! I promise, I’m okay. It’s probably just the stress of finishing high school. It’s a pretty big day, after all.” A shitty and unnecessary day if you ask me, but I keep that to myself.
“And your father’s not here.” She pauses where she stands, and I notice her gaze softening beyond the curtain of my hair.
“It’s alright, I’m used to it,” I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s just the realization that I’ll have to leave home soon must finally be hitting me.”
“You have nothing to worry about, dear, the University of Bologna is one of the leading institutions in the world. I’m sure you’ll make new friends there. It’s your chance for a new life.” Her optimistic tone intensifies the nausea, and I push the bowl of oatmeal away before I can throw up over the entire island.
Still, I have to admit Betty has a point. Maybe she’s right. Maybe my failed suicide attempt isn’t as tragic as I thought. Maybe going to Italy and getting away from my father will be good for me. A new start, Betty said? Maybe that’s exactly how I should see it. No one knows me there, maybe it’ll be a chance for me to develop a new identity for myself.
In a way, Bellcolor Fermi really did die last night. And in her place Belle – as I’d rather be called – was born.
“You’re right,” I tell Betty. For a housekeeper, she’s insanely smart. Not that I’m disrespecting her job, it’s just that I was given high education my whole life and turned out to be dumber than her. My father would regret depriving me of the chance of gaining ‘street smarts’.
“Lovely, dear, maybe try having a bite to eat?” She tries to push the bowl of oatmeal towards me, but I hurriedly get to my feet and back away from her like she’s on fire.
“No, I'm having Marcus take me to school early. I’ll get some coffee and a pastry from Starbucks or something.” Before I run outside, I come back and hug Betty tightly. “Thanks, Betty, for everything,” I whisper to her and take off, my unusual show of affection leaving her frozen in place.
On my way to the graduation ceremony, Marcus stops at Optica and I buy some black colored contacts, and all the added accessories.
We also stop at Starbucks, and I get myself some mocha and a blueberry muffin, but quickly change my mind and toss them away when the nausea threatens to overcome me again. If I weren’t a virgin, I’d think I was pregnant. And if I were religious, I’d think the Holy Ghost visited me last night and knocked me up itself. Ridiculous, isn’t it?
I stand in the long line of students waiting behind the scenes for their names to be called so they can get their diplomas, and I shift uncomfortably. Damn it, why am I even stressed? There won’t be anyone in the crowd cheering when my name is called, not unless Marcus decided to sit in the audience even though I didn’t ask him to. That could actually be nice.
My thoughts drift elsewhere during the long speeches from our principal, our class teacher, and Kelly, the head of the student council. Good God, what could they possibly be babbling about for so long? You’d think each of them had just won an Oscar and was reviewing the great success of their lives.
I let out a frustrated breath and notice Trent Gibson, the most popular boy in school, staring at me. I raise an eyebrow and he gives me a smile that’s all teeth. I look around, thinking maybe one of the cheerleaders is standing behind me, but it’s just me and my classmates, who are busy with their own business. Did Trent Gibson really just smile at me? Okay…
I look away and feel my face heating up. Fuck, be cool, Belle. I gather up the courage to look right at him and notice that he’s still staring at me with that smile of his. You know, the panty-moistening smile from the school hottie. Why the hell is he giving me those looks? Doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something? Oh, right, his girlfriend is on stage right now giving the speech of her life. Trent, as it turns out, is a cheater. But why me? I review my look – I’m wearing the graduation robe over my dress, like all the other graduates. But unlike them, I’m swimming in my gown.
Even the smallest size looks like a sack on me. My hair’s sloppily straightened, and I’m not even wearing makeup. Seriously, I look like I ran away from the Amish, what’s up with him?
I come to my senses when one of the students, next in line after me in the alphabetical list, pushes me forward, and I realize there’s a large space between me and the person ahead of me.
“Sorry…” I hurry to close the gap.
From time to time I sneak glances at Trent, whose eyes are still fixed on me. My whole body tingles under his hawk’s stare, and it makes me almost unbearably uncomfortable. Is that what it feels like to be seen? How do the popular kids stand it? And why is the letter G so close to F in the alphabet?
“Bellcolor Fermi!” the principal announces over the microphone. I leap from my spot and scurry to the stage to get my diploma. There’s scattered applause, probably out of politeness, since despite my hope Marcus would be in the crowd, there’s no one there for me.
I force myself to smile politely as I take the diploma from the principal and shake his hand. I move on through the faculty, shaking their hands and hurrying off the stage to take my place in the rows reserved for the graduates who’ve received their diplomas.
The rest of the ceremony passes quickly, and some of the students throw their caps in the air and immediately are scolded for it. The only exciting thing about graduating high school has been forbidden at our school after a student hurt her eye and the school got sued for a huge sum.
Okay, I survived. It’s behind me. I let out a long breath and carve a path for myself out through the excited crowd, here to see their children get these useless certificates that cost a fortune. I wonder, how much money is standing between these walls right now?
Probably quite a few million . A grain of sand on the beach for my father.
When I finally see the exit, something yanks back my robe and I turn my head to see what’s pulling it.
Trent.
Fucking breathe, Belle, don’t be weird, I scold myself as a surprised lump of air wedges itself in my throat, and an awkward silence lingers between us for far too long.
“Hey, Bella,” he says. Did he just call me Bella? The teachers always used my full name. And I personally prefer Belle.
“H-hi,” I stammer.
Great.
“I’m having a graduation party at my place, wanna come? It’s tonight.” He gives me that panty-moistening smile again and I turn to stone. I blink a few times and he’s still in front of me, probably waiting for an answer that won’t get through my lips. He scans me from head to toe and slowly licks his lips. My eyes lock onto his tongue and my knees shake.
“Bella?” he raises an eyebrow.
“What?” I finally blurt out.
“Graduation party? Tonight?” He chuckles when he definitely notices the fierce blush painting my pale face. I must look like a tomato. Of course, what else? And of course, Trent’s used to girls in our class falling helpless at his feet. I, on the other hand, am really not used to the hottest guys in class flirting with me.
“S-sure…” I stammer again. Great job, Belle. Really cool of you.
“Great! So we’ll see you there!” he yells as his friends pull him back. When one of them notices who he’s talking to, his eyes widen and he scans me with a lust that makes me want to vomit.
What the hell is going on here? How did I go from being invisible, to the girl who gets pervy stares from the popular guys?
Maybe I really did die last night and this is what Heaven looks like. Or maybe not, because no one was cheering for me in the crowd, after all. I’m sure my mother would be my most eager cheerleader in Heaven. That’s why I’m sure it doesn’t exist, because that could never happen.
I turn and face the exit. I guess I have a party to get ready for. My first and last high school party.