The Other Part Of Me
Chapter 1
Layla
Have you ever done something and just asked yourself "why"? That's the question I constantly ask myself. Why did I take dance? Why did I take four AP classes? Why did I let my bestfriend walk out of my life? Why do my parents hate me? People always tell me how perfect my life is and how much they wish they could be like me. What those people don't realize is how imperfect my life is. My parents fight every night over my dance expenses and, even though I'm not going for two more years, my college expenses. Lately they have been talking about a divorce. It's my fault they're getting a divorce. There is no other child to blame for it. My older brother died from cancer when I was seven. It's just me. He was my role model, the person I wanted to be like. My parents tried to get rid of his things, but I wouldn't let them. His room is still the way he left it nine years ago. Sometimes I lay in his bed and just stare up at the glow in the dark stars he has on his ceiling. Sometimes I stare at his picture on his dresser until my eyes start to sting. His death caused the most hurt in my life. People think I'm this happy go lucky girl who has no issues in life. "She has money, she has talent, she's smart," that's all true, but love is the most important thing. I don't have that. I need it.
* * * * * *
I woke up to the sound of my mother yelling up the stairs for me to get up. It's Monday. I hate Mondays. I have school, class council meeting after school, ballet after that, jazz after ballet, then work until eight, and then homework. I yelled back to her, "I'm up, I'm up." I stretched out slowly, still under my fuzzy pink comforter, before getting out of bed. I walked across the room to turn my hair straightener on, and then hopped in the shower. I was in there for about fifteen minutes, I didn't want to get out. The water was so warm and my mom refused to turn the heat on in the house. When I finally got out, I blow dried and straightened my hair. Then came the hardest part of my morning: picking out what to wear. I spend a half an hour each day trying to figure out what to wear to school. After thinking for awhile, I decided on my dark blue skinny jeans, a pink sweater, and my chestnut colored Uggs.
I went downstairs for breakfast. I noticed that my dad wasn't sitting at the breakfast counter like he usually was. "Mom, where's dad?"
"Uh, I think he went to put gas in the car."
"The car is still in the garage. Nice try, where is he?"
She sighed, "He went to stay with your grandparents for a few days. We need a little break from each other."
"He couldn't say goodbye before he left?"
"He left at one in the morning. He didn't want to wake you."
I started to get angry. "When is he coming back? This is obsurd. There is no reason for him to leave. Go see a marriage counseler or something."
My mother's voice was shaky, "Layla, calm down. I know you don't like what's been going on, but there's nothing you can do about it."
"I hate you! You aren't even trying to make it work!" I screamed at her. I grabbed my bag off the counter and walked out the door. I could hear my mother's sobs just before I slammed the door.
I began to walk toward my bus stop. Just as I was about to turn the corner, I saw my bus drive away. I began running after it, but I couldn't run fast enough. "I guess I'm walking two miles to school then," I muttered to myself.