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The List
Jane. Jane. Jane, Jane, Jane. Jane Playne. When I hear my name it makes me think of plain Jane. Too bad that’s so far from the truth. I am many things but plain is not one of them. My friend even came up with a list of the things I am, not the most flattering list, but not the most embarrassing… unless it gets out and someone reads it. Then it’d become a fiasco. Who knew the crumbled, wadded up, piece of notebook paper with chili and other various food stains on it, could ruin an entire night.
#1 Jane is an Oreo.
Sadly (or not so sadly) I’ve had this label since the beginning of middle school
#2 Jane is a hopeless romantic
A girl can’t get a break. She reads a few romance books and she’s branded for life
#3 Jane is obsessed with frogs
I was five when I decided to decorate my room, I mean they looked pretty then. People can’t hold that against me
#4 Jane is destined to be popular
Ok so my Grandparents were popular (Grandpa football player, Grandma Valedictorian), my parents were popular (Mom Dancer, Dad all around athlete), my sisters and brothers are/were popular (Jack 13 attractive to those middle school girls, Sasha 17, cheerleader and on the student council, Taylor 18, who’s a boy, on the soccer team and the basketball team getting ready to go to NYU, and Jessie my 23 year old sister, lovable pride and joy of my parents, who is a model). It’s just a matter of time until I get my big break at being popular
#5 Jane thinks her sister’s boyfriend is extremely attractive
That would be Jessie’s boyfriend who is a photographer and has the whole tight black shirt, and crisp jeans, with vans slip ons, thing going on.
#6 Jane has never had a boyfriend
I. Am. Fat. And sometimes I manage to be a social retard, and end up being socially awkward around boys.
#7 Jane is cursed with forever with sloppy kisses
I have been kissed. Every single time it was horrible. I’m beginning to think I’m not getting the right type of guy.
#8 Jane loves to dance around in her underwear
Yeah I like to dance around in my underwear and I’d been doing it for years without being caught. It just so happens to I had to be doing it the day Sasha didn’t have to go to cheerleading practice and decided to record it and show it her friends and mine.
#9 Jane is also cursed with the horridness of way older guys hitting on her
Guys as old as thirty have hit on me, continuously! It’s disgusting because not one of them is cute.
#10 Jane is way too cocky
Apparently, my ‘ego’ is way too big. Pfft. I just have confidence, which many more girls need.
#11 Jane is prettier than she knows
Just because I play down my looks doesn’t mean I don’t know I’m pretty. Yeah, I’m not beautiful, or gorgeous, but I’m pretty. That’s a heck of a lot more than most people have, so I’m happy with it.
That’s the list my friend Shelly made. She’s sort of an oddball with an obsession for list. Completely the opposite from me. Everything in her room, in her presence, is organized. Sometimes I even feel like I’m in a box just talking to her. Now me? Well I like to go with the flow (let’s not focus on my constant obsessing over boys who never seem to like me), everything near me is unorganized. Salt isn’t just in the sugar shaker, salt is mixed with sugar in the pepper shaker.
How did we become good friends? It’s quite simple actually. She was sitting at lunch by herself in the 8th grade and I was currently have a little rift with my normal friends, so I went and sat with her. Turns out she’d always been going to our middle school her friends just hadn’t arrived yet, but instead of her making me feel stupid, she just talked to me until they came and then introduced me to them.
She’s cool in the overly nice way, which helps me to overlook the fact that she makes list when she’s bored. And that she’s currently sitting on my bed obsessing about how we’re going to homecoming with the seniors and the juniors.
“Chill out, they’re just people,” I say adjusting my midnight blue halter dress. It doesn’t show off unnecessary fat, and it doesn’t make me look like a big blob. It’s form fitting, just showing enough cleavage to give off the impression that I appreciate it, but I don’t flaunt it to get guys.
“Are you kidding me? They aren’t just people; they are older people, who have status!” Shelly is convinced that tonight is my ticket to Popular Town. And once I’m there and praised, I will send my wonderful helicopter to get her from Loser Street. She makes us sound like we’re on the bottom of the food chain for high school, when really we’re not.
Sure there are times when we’ll walk into a classroom and feel extremely awkward because we have to choose between sitting by the guy who constantly draws on himself or the girl who will chew your ear off because she never stops talking. But it’s really not that bad, we’re average and its okay with me…most of the time.
“Yeah well don’t get too excited Taylor doesn’t even want us there in the first place,” I remind her snatching my bag from my vanity. He really didn’t want us going with him. According to him this is his “senior year” and it’s all about the “good times and hot chicks” and that does not include hanging out with your little sister. I don’t think he’d mind so much if I was skinnier and beautiful like Sasha or Jessie. But I guess it’s a good thing that my parents are the ones paying for the limo, and insisted that he take me (and I insisted he take Shelly as well). I think the real motive of them making him take me is that I’m the youngest girl (and the chubbiest) so my parents want to “protect me.”
“Ready to go?” The words seem out of place in my mouth, like I’m being to cool and collected about this. This will be my shot to rectify the damage I caused at freshman orientation. Sure I’m normal but that doesn’t mean my name hasn’t dropped from a couple of people’s lips.
Orientation was a disaster. When we were supposed to be on the tour of the school guess who got lost? Yeah I did and when I finally found the group I was so excited I tumbled down the stairs, (very ungracefully), and ended up smacking the tour guide, (who happened to be one of Taylor’s friends) in the knee, making him fall on top of me.
Sure, I got up gave a nervous laugh, then quickly hid behind my hair and made a hasty exist, but that bit of damage control wasn’t enough. The first day of school, that’s who I was remembered as. Talk about an embarrassing ice breaker. “Yeah, you’re that girl who bumped into our tour guide! Hey, I’m Vanessa!” If I didn’t want to burn a hole in the ground right then and make my way to china, or Italy.
“Yeah, wait! Do I seriously look okay?” Shelly asks while smoothing down the invisible creases in her knee length tinker bell dress. Of course it’s not really tinker bell, but that’s what it looks like to me. As soon as we saw it in the window I knew it was for her. And I was right, that’s proven right now before my eyes. Her mid length blonde hair which I did an excellent job curling stops right where the thin straps of her dress start, and her gold ballet slippers complete the look.
“Yeah, you look great. Now let’s go … and put the pen down!”
“Okay, Okay. No need to put your GRR face on.”
“Shelly?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut it.”
Sitting next to Shelly with a cup of punch in my hand isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend the night. Sasha went off with her date, Derek, Taylor instructed me not to talk to him or his friends.
“How long have we looked pathetic?” Trying to be optimistic just isn’t working for me. This should be the night that I shine! (So Shelly’s ranting got stuck in my head a bit.) That people actually realize I have something to offer this school. That I can live up to the legacy of my parents…
“Twenty minutes… want to dance?” Of course Shelly wants to dance. It’s her specialty, not mine as people often think it should be.
“And risk people thinking we’re lesbians? Absolutely,” I stand up and offer her my hand, “shall we dance?”
“I think we shall,” she says getting up and whisking me away to the dance floor. Of course I wish a real boy was doing this, but I’ll take what I can get. Actually it’s not just any boy, it’s a boy named Max. A really, really cute boy named Max, who’s a junior with a girlfriend, and his own tight knit group. They’re not the very top of popular but they definitely hang with the crowd.
“Shelly, tell me again why it’s wrong to be crushing on him?” It’s a slow song and I let Shelly lead, which really isn’t a good idea now. I can see him he’s tan, really tan, and the curve of his muscle is visible through his jacket sleeve. His curly brown thick hair is very unruly, even though I have no doubt he’s tried brushing it tons of times. He. Is. A. Tree. No not really, I guess he’s the average male height, though I’m below the average female height.
“He’s taken number one.” True, true. The girl he’s dancing with is his girlfriend Marissa and as much as I want to picture her as an ugly, nasty, donkey of a girl, I can’t. And God knows I’ve tried so hard. The fact is she looks as harmless as she is which to me should make him think her dull, but hey I can’t jump in his mind and tell him to think that.
“She’s a giant,” I murmur in Shelly’s shoulder. True she is a giant taller than most girls in the school, and she’s stick skinny, no muscle or anything. Brown frizzy hair (that shouldn’t make me feel better but it does), eyebrows in desperate need of plucking, and teeth that should have gotten braces a long time ago. Despite all of these flaws she still comes out looking decent. Some would say more than decent, but I’m not in the nice mood today.
“The age difference comes next,” Shelly continues like I didn’t say anything. She doesn’t like to entertain my hobby of pointing out flaws. She say’s it’s a habit I need to break, which I really do but I won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that.
Yeah the age difference my parents would have a cow. No not just one cow, a cow and a rooster, plus a chick, and an alligator. They’re baby shouldn’t even be speaking to boys, let alone an older one who has romantic intentions for her. He must only be using her for sex. I can totally see that running through my mom’s mind before she gave me some self help books, and horror stories of teens that had relationships in high school. No doubt they’d all be overweight teens.
“He’s Sasha’s age, probably younger since she has her birthday so early,” My trying to reason won’t do anything to convince Shelly to say the things I want her to. It just makes me feel better to say them out loud and not have them swimming around in my head, having a fit. She just looks down at my head on her shoulder and gives me a pity glance. Bleh. I hate getting pity glances, even when I’m whining.
“He doesn’t seem to really like a variety of girls,” Shelly continued quietly. I know what she means and I appreciate her saying it this way. What high school guys like fat chicks? None that I can think of. I mean sure, I’m pretty but I guess boys haven’t learned to look past my layer of fat and see that. True to Shelly’s word he really does like skinny girls. I’ve seen some of his past girlfriends and toothpicks look healthier. Okay so I’m exaggerating, but after a night like tonight I think I deserve it.
“I guess you’re right, Shell. But I so wish you weren’t,” I say lifting my head from being perched on her shoulder.
“I wish I wasn’t.” In a way Shelly is like another older sister, even though she’s obsessed with elevating our social status. She just listens and gives me no nonsense answers when I need them the most. I’ve read the books where the friend just tells the person in trouble what they want to hear and in the end it ends up as a disaster, so I’m very grateful for Shelly.
“Look he’s headed over to our table.” I’m puzzled why would he be going over to our table, and why is Taylor at the table with his friends?
“Shelly you know that list about me that you made?”
“Yeah… what about it?” She’s just as puzzled as I am.
“Where did you leave it?” Please don’t say the table, please don’t say the table, please don’t say the table.
“On the table, I was planning on adding to it, if we got bored.” I can’t even be mad at her. She really doesn’t realize what she’s done. This is one of those times where I wish I was one of those cold heartless people would could turn me in a second without any remorse or being apologetic.
“Oh no. Oh no. Oh shit! Shelly hurry up, we have to get to that table!” I’m sure I look like a psycho idiot dragging a deer in the headlights.
“Okay, Okay but loosen up on the death grip. What’s wrong?” I give her the ‘look’. The one where my eyes are close to slits and my mouth is set in a grim line, and my jaw is locked. The looked that scared the whit’s out of a little kid who was trick-or-treating last Halloween, my 7th grade principal, and my old therapist. “Oh, this about the list isn’t it? Well maybe they haven’t seen it yet.”
“I hope they haven’t. Or this will go done in the endless book of Jane’s embarrassing moments.” My “look” turns into a desperate pleading look. I wonder if the Book of Jane’s embarrassing moments will ever end. Probably not.
“Then he goes ‘Taylor you have detention and I was like I may have it but I’m not going to it’.” That’s my bone head of a brother speaking. No need to say he’s the idiot of the family, well the idiot that can write and inherited the good hair. It’s really curly, jet black, and silky.
Boys always get the pretty hair. I think us girls were done an injustice, but then again not really. Boys might have the pretty eyes, hair, and Greek God muscles, but us girls have curves, and we’re soft, regularly smell nice and have pretty lips. So it turns out okay, I guess.
“Hey Tay,” I greet him only to be greeted in return with a murderous glare. I can feel the love.
“Aw, is this your little sister? She is so adorable. You’re a freshman right? These years will be so fun for you!” I have no idea who the girl is but by the looks of her I think she’s one of the many girls (and guys) who want to get into my brothers pants. She’s Hispanic with long brown hair and golden eyes. She definitely has a shot and doesn’t even have to suck up to me to get one. Even though it wouldn’t have done her much good anyway.
“Heh, yeah. My names Jane by the way,” I say while moving back to where the sheet of paper should be. Conveniently right by Max and his date, and to the left of Will. Will is cute, not the normal type of guy I’d want but he’s very cute.
Smooth dark skin, brilliant since of humor, straight white teeth, and gay. He’s open about it, some people accept it, some don’t. My brother does, we were raised in a very liberal atmosphere. It’s not our place to judge someone, but the man upstairs. I guess that’s why he’s Sasha’s best friend, that’s how I know him and most likely the only reason why I’m comfortable with him.
“Don’t worry she’s one of the good ones,” Will whispers in my ear. I can’t help but to crack a smile.
“Okay, if you say so. Hey Will, did you see a piece of paper?” My voice was low so that only will could hear me, but the purpose was shot to hell when Clarisse heard me.
“You mean this one?” She asked holding the crumbled piece of paper with food stains, and Shelly’s perfectly neat handwriting. I swear she could be the devils twin in her skin tight way above the knee, radiating evil red dress. Alls she’s missing is the horns and her tail. Which I’m sure she’ll grow in a matter of seconds.
“Yeah that one, can you hand it to me?” I don’t even bother to tack on the word please. She isn’t worth it. She’s hated me ever since orientation when I fell into her boyfriend, ever since then she’s done all she can to make my life miserable. Okay it is at a minimal level since she’s a junior and I’m a freshman and we don’t have any classes together. But the looks she gives me are horrible and the snide weight comments are so immature.
We have the same lunch, though, and I swear every time I’m about to take a bite of my lunch she’s staring at me like I shouldn’t be eating anything at all. Like I should go anorexic just because she doesn’t like the way my body is…Max doesn’t like it either. But I made a vow to never be anorexic or bulimic and I intend to keep it.
“Let me just read it first—”
“NO!” Well at least I have back up with my answer this time. Shelly supporting me, came up right next to me with ever intention helping me get the list back at any cost.
“Oh no, I think I should,” she spat. Oh dear Lord. I can’t just snatch the list from out of her hand that would make a scene, and I can’t tell my brother because the chances of that not making a scene are slim, and the chances of him actually caring are slimmer.
And she kicks off reading the list, I hold Shelly back from pummeling her only slightly. Jane is an Oreo, two people’s heads turn. As the list goes on more and more people turn to hear Clarisse reading, Max doesn’t come in until the underwear part. If my blush wasn’t bad then, and wasn’t noticeable I’m pretty sure that turned it to a darker red and it showed up against my skin. This is one of the times I want to sink into the floor and go to China or Italy. Pretend this was all just a dream and smash myself with a hammer to wake up. Imagine that I am someone else and I am watching that so I can laugh to. But I’m not, and I’m actually hear, and it’s not happening to someone else its happening to me, and the people’s laughs are real and they’re echoing in my ear.
She finishes and I can’t see anyone, I can only hear them, and I can also hear Taylor say, “suck it up, don’t cry over that.” I can feel Max’s eyes on me, most likely amusement in them. The devil has finally taken a human form and she left her horns and tail behind. That is pure unadulterated evil coming from that girl right now, and what I want more than to hurl, sock her in the face, and disappear, is to go home get in my bed and pretend nothing ever happened.
Lucky me, I have a curfew which I missed, all because my taxi driver was stupid and insisted on going to long way home. I can imagine this wouldn’t be a big deal to my parents had I been coming home with Sasha or Taylor, but no. I came home by myself, way too late, and in a taxi with a male driver. After the night I had, I don’t think I deserve to be yelled at, and anyone who knows what I’ve been through tonight most likely would think the same thing. Only my parents don’t know what happened so I’m stuck with they’re ranting.
“We said 10:30! Do you know what time it is now?! How could you be so irresponsible? We taught you better than that. Use your head Jane. Your smart put it to use sometimes. You could have been hurt! Did you even think about that? No you probably didn’t. Just go to your room,” I don’t even think my dad realizes I’ve been silent this entire time, and I’m definitely not going to point it out now.
“Jane,” my mother sighs, “you’re grounded. Three days no phone, television, or friend visits. Is that understood?”
I don’t even do anything. Even if it wasn’t understood, I wouldn’t have any say in it. What the point of responding to parents who don’t even want a response back, just ask for it as a courtesy? None. Exactly none.
“URGH! What is wrong with people?! I mean who can get joy out of making someone feel bad and embarrassing them? Who does that? And who flippin’ makes lists about people to cheer them up?! Why can’t I just have a normal friend? Or a brother that’s not a jackass? How completely insensitive can someone get?” Rant. Rant. Rant. Rant. Rant. It’s what I do when I’m pissed. Some part of me deep down thinks it’s bad mouthing but currently I don’t care. I was just humiliated in front of a guy I like and the entire upperclassman. I’m surprised I haven’t turned into a mass murderer and killed Clarisse and those idiots who were laughing with her.
“Knowing him he’ll probably get worse. Now are you done with your ranting?” Bored tone, slightly high pitched, and biting. It sounds like me but I didn’t move my lips. I swear I didn’t move my lips! And I honestly don’t think I’m wearing a smirk right now, like my reflection is. I am not wearing a smirk!
“Stop looking at me like I’m from hell. I’m actually here to help you,” it speaks, I speak.
No it’s really not me, I mean it looks like me, just not exactly like me, its “Skinny.”
“No I’m a hippo. Yeah I’m skinny, and yes I’m you. Now stop being freaked out and don’t scream.”
I haven’t even screamed. This would be the perfect time to scream, and I can’t scream. This should be the time my mirror cracks and I wake up in a dream, but that’s far fetched and I know it.
“I’ve finally gone crazy,” it’s a statement that no needs to confirm.
“Honey, you did that way before now.” It doesn’t act like me, I mean it does a bit, but I don’t think I’m that sarcastic.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call someone right now to smash this mirror to pieces?!” I say while looking at this…me. My cheekbones are clear and stand out, my hair is longer, my complexion is no longer blotchy, and I can see how my chest looks bigger now that my limbs are tinier.
“Because I can disappear. Just…Like…This.” The Mirror me is gone.
Perhaps this is one big hallucination after the night from hell, and I will wake up to find I fell asleep in the bath tub and water got in my ears and into my brain somehow and affected my sleeping patterns. That has to be it. Elaborate? Yes. But is plausible after my mirror talks to me? Definitely.
This is what I'm supposed to write about:
When your chapter opens, freshman Jane Playne is surprised to be having a great time at her first big high school event and feeling hopeful about the new social scene. That is, until one of her typical (and generally humiliating) mishaps occurs involving an intriguing and super-cute guy named Max.
Jane leaves the event immediately, only to be confronted at home by her well-meaning but overprotective parents, who ground her for missing curfew, and her sibling, who taunts her. Later, when she's finally alone, she gazes into the mirror and vents to her reflection, letting out her frustration.
The chapter concludes when Jane's reflection, or another presence within the mirror, suddenly talks back.