Different

Okay, I know what your thinking, another story?!
It seems that the only story I've been currently updating is Crush On You, so I decided to make another story that I feel passionately about.

The story is about a topic that I'm against.

Wanna know?

Keep reading.

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-11 years earlier-

My shaky hands held unto my mother, twisting the hem of her shirt. I peeked from behind her; the scene was unfamiliar to my six-year-old self.

"Mommy..." I said, softly.
"Yes dear?" she patted my head, taking me to the front, where a nice-enough looking lady stood.

"I'm scared..." I hiccuped, the tiny sound coming out, and my grip on my mother became tighter.

She chuckled, "It's nothing to be afraid of, hun."

My mom smiled at the lady, and they began talking their grown-up talk, and I couldn't understand some of the big words.

It's nothing to be afraid of, it's nothing to be afraid of

I slowly, carefully, remived my hands from my mother and took a step towards the rest of the room. There were children, playing, laughing. They had their own friends; I had none.

I made my way to the middle, where a small table stood. There, a pack of crayons lay, unopened and new. I felt a joy inside me. I picked up a fresh piece of paper and opened the box of crayons. I took out my favorite color, purple. The pointy edge looked exciting; I coundn't wait to use it. I started to color, on a rampage now. I grabbed the crayons, blue, red, yellow, orange. I colored with suprising expertise, the colors vibrant.

So focused on my drawing, I didn't notice dark shadow pass over me. It was only when I was finished, when I stood up to show my drawing to my mother, was when I noticed the three figures glaring at me.

"Pretty drawing." the one with blond hair said.

I smiled, proud of my art, "Thanks."

The blond smiled, but there was this thing about her smiled that seemed...off.

"You know why it's pretty?" the blond asked, and picked up my paper, "Cause. Those. Were. My. Crayons!!!"

With that, she ripped the drawing in half, and then in quarters, then in eighths and so on until my drawing was barely reconizable.

"Meanie!" the blond girl said, grabbing her crayons and walking off with her two friends.

I stood there, gaping at my ruined artwork. All my hard work.... How was I supposed to know it was hers?

Tears came. I hated it. It made me look pathetic; weak. I wiped my tears and looked around for the only person who could comfort me, my mom.

That was when I noticed a note stuck to the back of the chair I sat on.

Have fun at school, darling! Love, mom.

I smiled, I felt happy again. Maybe, just maybe, I would find other friends. Not those mean girls.

Oh, I don't know how wrong i was

 

Hey Batman! Awww, thanks! 

 

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My hair flopped over my face messily. I blew it away, concentrated on my drawing.

I was sketching what I saw in front of me now. The boys playing soccer noisily; the girls in their own cliques gossiping a little too loudly; the birds flying overhead.

I was there; alone. Sketchpad in hand, I continued tracing the outline of the oak tree across the field.

"Oh, look, it's Vincent Van Gogh." a voice sneered.

I looked up, and looked back down.

"Don't ignore me, BFF!" Tiara Samuels said sarcastically.

"BFF?" I murmured under my breath. Me and Tiara? BFF? Dream on.

Tiara smirked and took a seat beside me, "Ooo, pretty drawing! Did you use your own crayons this time?"

I said nothing. She never let me live it down. But was I complaining? What was the use of fighting back? She would probably come up with a meaner and smarter comeback.

'Sides, why try? What difference would it make? Would she go away? No. Would I become more popular? Oh, I'm never going to be popular even if Tiffany Alvord was my friend.

Not that I had any experiences with friends. I had been a freak my whole life; starting on my first day of kindergarten, The Crayon Incident.

"There you go again! Ignoring me! Show some respect to your BFF!" Tiara screeched, her voice, for some really really weird reason, still sounding smooth and beautiful.

Tiara was beautiful. Blond hair, and get this, her eyes have twenty different colors in them. Trust me, sixth grade, she came skipping to me, bragging about the eye test she took. She even showed me the documents.

"Sorry, Tiara." I mumbled.

She smiled, "Thaaat's better, Tash!"

She stood up, and wiped off the dust off her skirt, and walked away.

Tiara Samuels. Even her name sounds cool, huh? What are you thinking now, is she the resident b*tch, the popular girl who bosses everyone around?

Tiara is hard to explain. She's the type of girl who makes your life a living hell yet makes it seem like she's your best friend.

She goes to you, and in a really loud voice, she goes, "I AM SOO SORRY! I HEARD THAT YOU FAILED THE TEST AND YOU GOT AN F IN THE REPORT CARD!"

So everyone knows you're a complete dumba** cause of Tiara yet it made it seem that she was being nice.

Complicated, huh?

 

Oh wow. I didn't think this would get any bumps.  THANK YOU!

 

Okay, so for those who don't know who Tiffany Alvord is, she is the best singer of all time (next to Taylor Swift ) and I am a huge huge huge huge fan of hers. So if you don't know her, grab a computer and to youtube. I have a bunch of other favorite YouTube idols and I may be dropping their names a few times. 

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"I'm home!" my voice echoed across the house. No one was home; as usual.

I headed to the kitchen; dumping my bag on the sofa. Grabbing an apple, I headed to the basement, where my brother, Scott was.

"Scott, we're out of milk---" my voice cracked and I stood there, staring.

There, sat the most beautiful creature I have ever seen in my life.

He and Scott were playing Modern Warfare 3, shouting comands at each other.

"Duck, dude! Awww, he sniped you!!" Scott told him.
The beautiful boy smiled, "Okay, okay, respawn. I'm going to tackle you..."

He noticed I was in the room, and apparantly, staring at him.

I cleared my throat and looked away, "Um, Scott?"

Scott looked at me, "Hey sis, this is Liam, Liam, this is my sister Natasha."

"Hey." Liam said, flashing a smile at my direction.

I could feel my heart beating. Faster and faster.

"Uh...I-um...can I play?" I blurted out. What? You are so dumb, Natasha.

I blushed, "I mean.."

Scott shook his head, "Sure, no prob. Take my controller."

I slowly took the item from him and sat beside Liam.

"Ready?" Liam shot me a crooked grin.

I nodded, and the game began. That was when I put my game face on. Shooting, ducking, sending missles, throwing grenades, all in one game.

"Whew!" Liam said leaning back on the sofa.
I smiled and watched as the results came up, with me in the lead.

"Sweet." Liam said, bumping his knee against mine.

I blushed, "Uh-thanks."

Scott was suddenly in front of me, holding his hand out for the controller. I handed it to him, sad that the moment had to end.

"Bye." I said silently to Liam and ran up to my room, plopping on my bed.

Did that just happened? The room was spinning.

What should I do? There was no one to talk to; it wasn't like I had any friend to dish to.

Yes, I tried to make friends. I joined the preppy crowd; turns out I was too preppy. So I learned my lesson an joined the goth crowd; I wasn't goth enough. What is wrong with me?

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Okay, I decided to stop there. I got tired. Haha, and I wanna play Modern Warfare now. 

 

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Goggles. Life is like that. Well, mine is.

Why? You can hide. Hide your true feelings through the thin layer of plastic. No one can see you. And if you ever get lost, dive. Dive into the ocean. Disappear. And when you come back for air, you'll be away from everyone else.

Snap! . I took a picture of the lake nearby. I grabbed my sling bag and headed to the city, taking pictures of people, of things.

Snap! . I took a picture of a mom and her kid.

The picture printed out from my Polariod camera. I took it and stared at it.

A picture can tell a thousand words, they say. The mother was smiling to a bypasser, yet you can see that she had just scolded her son. The lines along her arm as she gripped her son's hand tightly. The look of the sons face, the scowl. The mothers eyes, still containing traces of anger.

Maybe that's why I love photography. It's like goggles. They can hide you. Hide your real attitude.

"Excuse me?" a deep voice said.

I turned and saw a middle aged man with his wife.

"Yes?"
"Is that a Polariod camera?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Would you mind taking a picture of my wife and I?" he asked.
"Okay."

I answered one word answers, not wanting to strike a conversation. I wasn't really a people person, in case you hadn't figured it out yet.

The picture printed out and I handed it to him.

He smiled, "Thank you." he handed me a five-dollar bill.

I stared at it, shocked, "Oh, i-it's okay."

He smiled, "I insist."

I took the money and watched him walk away, chatting with his wife.

I hadn't gotten that much luck with guyse either. There was one.. But...it didn't work out....

FLASHBACK

The street is dark and it was raining hard. I had ducked into a small cafe, wet and cold.

"Youre Natasha, right?"

I turned and saw Tanner and as usual, my heart started beating fast.

"Y-Yes."
"I'm Tanner."
"I-I know."

He smiled and instantly I felt drawn to him. We started talking and talking. He was nice, he liked everything I liked, and he was cute.

"Do you wanna hang out later?" I said, my eyes widening. I had practically asked him out on a date.

A bell rang, sugnaling a customer had entered. I looked up and my heart stopped beating.

It was Tiara.

She walked over to us, it wasn't that far, and it was obvious she had heard me askig Tanner on a date.

She smiled, "No can do, sweetie. He was flirting with you the whole time? Really?" she took his hand, "Let's go, baby."

Tanner stood up. The barista called after him, "The bill?"

Tanner smirked and nodded in my direction, and walked away with Tiara.

The barista handed me the bill, which cost over fifty dollars. I had only used two dollars and Tanner had bought the rest.

He was using me.

END OF FLASHBACK