Free Minds, Free Lines

Life is What it is

The Story of Kylie

Chapter One

I was in one of those phases.

You know, the one where your drawings stink like your cat's litterbox and the guy you're madly into hasn't confessed his feelings towards ya.

Yeah, that's where I was.

Was? More like "am". I totally lied. It just makes me feel better when I pretend this is all in the past. You should get the point.

Have you ever heard the saying "All artists are socially awkward. but they just express themselves in their masterpieces"? I thought not.

Well, I'm an artist. Kylie. Kylie May-Ray. Huh? I guess I was setup to fail... Or "am" setup to fail. Hmph.

Anyway, my drawings usually consist of non-polychromatic people who look all hip and almost a little abstract. They normally have their hands in the pockets of their clothing, like I have. Being awkward is like being awesome to me. Socially awkward? Not so much.

Right now I'm drawing a character of mine named Mei Scylonda le Verdadion el Backwarps Lief Cipe. I don't even know what any of that means except Kylie is a genius. Or not, depending on what it really means. My hands smoothly and expertly sketch-out her bodily, skinny form anyway. My paper, notebook paper is almost completely covered in doodlings.

I'm in my house. I'm also in my room with the ceiling lights turned-off with a stray lamp on the black desk I'm working on. I guess I'm in a little of a rush. School starts in 45 minutes time.

Picture this: I'm thinking of my school, which is huge, looks like a high school, but is full of blood-thirsty psychopaths waiting to leap onto you and rip out your guts like a tiger... not minding the no-fighting policy.

We, the freshmen, are deer, graceful, innocent, and childish. And the sophomores are the cougars... or whatever hunt deer. And the upper classmen? Oh, they don't mind us. But they are like alligators when annoyed, and I'm guessing they're the Kings of Vile. I don't even think about the words that come out of those loser's mouths... oops, I've said too much.

Anyway, there are the bullies, the pretty girls, the divas, the chatterboxes, and ooh! - my favorite two groups - the socially awkward, the artists, and the just plain awkward slash awesome people. Oh, was that three groups? Oops... well newsflash - no one's a genius!




Sooooooo... it's Tuesday. Also open house, or "the Festival", as they call it. They're charging us to go school, though?! Not on my watch.

"Kylie!" my mom yells.

"Yes! Ugh. Coming!" I reply, rolling my eyes in annoyance and getting my navy blue backpack in what seems like milliseconds. My dark brown hair with slight golden highlights carves an arc through the air, spraying hair all over the place. I snatch up my exclusive, limited-edition monogrammed lunchbox and leave the room in two semi-graceful strides.

Oh! That reminds me... I have an eight-year-old sister who calls herself "The Queen of Grace". Her name's Mason, and I've never really understood why she has a guy's name. My mom seems to think she's SOOOO perfect. Ha! She's not even near perfect!

Plus, she brags a lot. And, oh yeah, and she's snotty. Not, like, she picks her nose or anything but... I think you know what I mean.

I make a face as I head into the car, going to school. I watch out the window at the cars flashing by and the occasional person crossing the street. At the moment, I'm thinking about Loral, one of my - cough - two friends. I ignore her, she, uh, sort of ignores me, and she's always the one who starts the conversations. I'm a little shy. But don't say that to my face. I'll deny it.

Soon, we're at school Home of the Burlington Bunnies. I know, I know, bunnies are ridiculous creatures! -- but really, that's our mascot.

Our "slogan" is pretty much "At two inches we stand tall, whiskers twitching and our noses itching". I go to a failure school, have a failure last name, have a failure body image and have a failure "personality". I only act different around people I don't like.

I'm not a people fan.


But that doesn't matter because - I see my BFF.

Her name's Skylar. Boy do I love that name. She has bronze hair, wears braces - blegh - but is the best person ever known to man. Nice-wise. She's not the prettiest girl on the planet... but I really don't care.

"Hey, Kylie! Sup?" she asks, once I go inside the school.

"Nothing much. Hey, pull out one of your dimes - I'm gonna take you to a land of human experiments", I reply. Skylar takes her purse and pulls out a shiny, silver dime. I find myself smirking as she gives it to me.

"You better not take it this time," she jokes. I, uh, have a tendency to take coins lying around on the floor.

I look around and then, jackpot! Loral is standing in clear sight, looking at her iPhone. I don't know why, but I really have an urge to throw the dime towards her, just to get a laugh (and her attention!).

So I throw the dime directly at her, hoping it won't go airborne and hit her in the face. We've got a delicate friendship - I'm pretty sure anything bad would result in this tiny friend-spark dying.