S1. Ep2

209 days before

Jen's POv:

My alarm goes off, dreadfully pulling me from my comfortable place of rest. I roll over and silence the obnoxious noise and sigh loudly. My eyes groggily open and look around the small and tidy looking room that is supposed to be my bedroom.

" This is one hell of a small room!" I thought to myself.

 I am not kidding, my room is half the size of the place Harry used to sleep in under the stairs. As my mind wakes up, I am swarmed with the all-too-fresh wounds of yesterday. I can still hear John's voice, shouting as I walked away from him for the last time,

 "You really think I could love someone like you? I mean Jesus, Amy, at least make an effort to lose weight and stop bitching about it. No one is ever going to love you anymore!" 

I wish I didn't believe him. Seriously how the hell did I get so freaking fat if we are so damn poor? This makes me look bad. I'm serious. It's like I eat while hiding from my mom. In comparison she is what you would call a clean-limbed person. 

Anyways as John's rather harsh opinions passed in my head, I suddenly wished so badly that his words didn't puncture my heart; but they always did. I don't know where it all went so wrong. 

I met John 2 years ago at school during one of Mr. Flubster's stupid lessons. He was sitting at the back in a sort of laid back posture and he was looking completely out of it. 

Mr. Flubster was a seriously old guy who looked like he had seen 2 millenias in his own eyes. I personally thought he was better off dead because this guy looked like he needed a breathalyzer every 5 minutes. Whenever the class went quiet, you could hear him struggling for some breaths and it was seriously traumatic to me. The guy would wheeze and cough lightly until the light coughs were so loud that everyone had to flinch(or even frown in anxiety for some-ugh, drama queens). 

It was during one of these coughing sessions of his that he had to actually excuse himself and walk out of the classroom for a moment. That was when Mr. Douche in the back decided to snap back to reality and catch me gazing at him. 

We made eye contact. Not like a " normal eye contact", a Heavy eye contact. You see, normally in a scene like this, the girl is expected to actually look away while perhaps even blushing. I chose to defy the laws of sappy romance novels (wait, is this one of them sappy novels? I seriously hope not) and stared back at him. After a minute or so of staring I decided to be the bigger man and said, '' hey". Two weeks later we were officially dating.

A year passed and with so many it went (unfortunately not with Mr. Douche) and one day when we were having a picnic, I saw a dog that looked just like Max and completely broke down crying. John comforted me physically, patting my back, but his tone was no longer soft and soothing. 

"Oh come on, it's been months already, you knew he was going to die eventually," he said, seemingly irritated.

 I probably gave him a look that explained how much he sounded like Charles Dickens. ( Dickens was a grade-A asshole, and especially to his family. You'd think that a man who had 10 children with his first wife Catherine might have a penchant for kids, but that was certainly not the case with Charles Dickens. On the day that his son Plorn was born, he wrote "On the whole I could have dispensed with him" That's something vaguely similar to "I should have used rubber")

Max was seventeen. I had him my whole entire life and everything seemed empty now that he was gone. I let my eyes drift over to his abandoned bed in the corner of my room and I felt my eyes getting moist. His eighteenth birthday would have been the next week and I had been hoping that he would make it. I closed my eyes for a few more minutes and drifted off. My body doesn't allow me to rest for too long, so I open my eyes and gaze at the time. 

6:42AM. Time to suck it up and start moving so I don't miss the bus. Unlike most others my age, I don't have my license yet because I can't find the motivation for anything lately (plus the fact that my mom earns minimum wage and many more factors such as not having a car), therefore I must subject myself to the torture that is public high school transportation. 

My feet hit the ground and I shuffled to the bathroom. Sunlight peeks through the blinds and I squinted my tired eyes to locate my toothbrush and toothpaste. I brushed my teeth quickly, staring down the sink's drain. I refused to look in the mirror lately because I despise what I see. I couldn't bear to face the reason why John left me. 

My feet carried me to my room and without even thinking, I had already dressed up and was out of the door. Running a bit late, I hustled to my bus stop, and as I saw kids already getting on board, I started running. I got on board and found a seat near the front and looked out the window, blasting my music in my headphones. Staring at everything outside, I zoned out, dreading the day before it had even truly begun.

 The houses passing by had become blurry and my eyelids started to droop. I opened my eyes suddenly to the cacophony of laughter, loudness, and chaos that is high school. I gave a quick smile to my bus driver as I was the last one to exit. Just as I reached the last step, I tripped a little bit and fought back tears as I kept walking. Oh my God, they all saw that. They're all judging me. Don't cry, why do you have to be so dramatic? I ignored all the eyes on me as I made my way to my favorite spot. 

Every morning is the same mundane routine: I sit on a quiet bench away from everyone and mentally beg for time to fly by so I can go to class. It's not that I enjoy learning so much, but rather that I just want the day to start so I can distract my mind and not appear to be a loner. I have friends of course, but they all have their licenses and therefore arrive at school at the last minute. So, to my dismay, I must arrive early from the bus and just wait. 

The bell was about to ring when suddenly I had a strong urge to pee. I knew that if I moved quickly enough, I'd still make it to class on time-hopefully. I reached the nearest hallway as the first bell sounds and the sea of people starts flooding up around me. As I scrambled to find a clear path to the bathroom, I bumped shoulders with someone. She quickly turned to face me and I immediately hollered, "Sorry!" as we pass each other by. Her hair bounced over her shoulder as she turned back around, as to avoid bumping into anyone else. Damn. I wish I was that pretty. 

I reached the bathroom just in time because my bladder felt as though it was going to explode. Entering the nearest stall, I handled my business and then got out, headed to the sink to wash my hands. I kept my head down as usual, however a glint of bright red hair caught my attention. My eyes jolted up as I stared at the reflection looking back at me.

 It had been months since I'd looked at myself in the mirror but I knew for a fact that was not me. The walls felt like they were closing in as I tried to process what was happening. Squinting at the girl looking back at me, I recognized that face. 

Summer Chase from my first math class. With my hands resting on the sink I leaned down, feeling like I was about to pass out. Slowly I looked back up at the mirror's reflection. Smooth glowing skin, bright green eyes, soft fluttery eyelashes, and the perfect smile. Before I could even begin to question anything, the warning bell rang which meant I had three minutes to get to class. 

Practically running, I arrived at the hallway where Mrs. Wallace's class was located, slowing down my pace as I neared the door. I took a deep breath and prepared myself to walk in front of a class. I walked in and stopped dead in my tracks. There I was in my normal seat near the back, closest to the wall by the windows. I had one headphone dangling out of my ear as I prepared my supplies for the lesson, head down so as to avoid any eye contact. 

Not wanting to draw any attention to my current self, I made my way to Summer's usual seat, which was all the way against the back wall. Seated behind myself, just one row to the right, I couldn't help but stare. I have a way of zoning out and ignoring the world around me until it's time to pay attention. I'd grown accustomed to ignoring anyone who may look my way, and so then when it was me, staring at myself, it didn't even phase me. 

The lights were half dimmed, and the morning glow shone through the windows, cascading beautifully across my face. My hair was tucked behind my ear and pushed to the side, exposing half of my face to those next to me. As I gazed at the Van Gogh paintings printed on the back of my favorite hoodie, I recognized the same images from earlier in the hallway. It was me. I bumped into myself, silently wishing I could be as pretty as the girl I had seen. Is this really what everyone else sees? What did John see? From a distance my body didn't look bad at all. 

From any distance it was not bad, honestly. Surely, I'm not as thin as I was in the previous years, but I still look like me. I am still the same person I once loved. How strange is it now, to be looking at myself not from the distorted front camera of my phone, not from the quick glances in mirrors, but instead from the eye's of another. The final bell rings and everyone is seated. Mrs. Wallace begins her lesson, as I watch myself instead. 

It's interesting to see the way I furrowed my brow with intent as I studied the teacher scribbling an equation on the whiteboard. My eyes darted up and down as I copied every step in my notebook. It's almost as if a lightbulb is visible over my head when my eyes glow with excitement from finally understanding a concept. I smiled quietly, a smile that I figured no one ever pays mind to, but I see it now. Oh how much power those quiet smiles hold. My legs were crossed and pointed to the side. The skirt I wore, paired with worn leggings underneath, drapes gracefully on the seat. 

Whenever I tilt my head to the side, my hair falls in different waves down my back. My left hand supported my chin as I remained attentive to the board. She is so pretty...I am so pretty. 

The lesson droned onward and I had not absorbed a bit of information in this current body. As I was observing the dimple in my cheek when I smiled, I watched myself jump a bit when the fire alarm abruptly sounded. Everyone started scrambling in their seats as the shrill noise continued. The light was fading from the room now, as the noise only grew louder and louder. 

My alarm goes off, dreadfully pulling me from my comfortable place of rest. I roll over and silence the obnoxious noise and sigh loudly. My eyes groggily open and look around the small and tidy looking room as I try to come back to terms with reality (repeated? Oh yeah, it's my routine :) )  6:37AM. I am not in math class, and I am not in Summer Chase's body.

 I gaze around my room and just for good measure, I look down and pinch my arm. Ouch. Okay, this is reality. Slowly I turn to sit up in bed. I take a deep breath and run my hands through my hair as I head to the bathroom. 

I feel my way around the door frame as the sunlight blinds me like it always does. With my eyes shut tightly, I inhale sharply one more time and exhale through my mouth. I open my eyes to face the reflection before me. I was not ugly. I had been beating myself down for some time for no reason. For so long, I let a man who could not truly love me dictate my sense of self worth. Why did I listen to him?

 Waves of emotion rush over me and I smile at the fact that I feel pretty even when I am crying. I know I am emotional and often have a lot to handle at times. I am sensitive, and have moments where the world feels like it is crushing me. I am messy, broken, lost, hurting; I am a lot of things, but I will never again allow "insecure" to be one of them.  Looking in the mirror, I start what I want to be a daily habit. I look into my eyes and remind myself: 

I am beautiful. I am worthy of love. I will always be enough. 

I took a modest shower without turning the water heater on (well yeah. Water bills and electric bills don't just handle themselves around here.) and I slowly tiptoed my way out of my room and walked out without waking my mom up. I found my worn out sneakers from 6 years in the pile of unused things just piled up in the kitchen, grabbed them up and left the house. I got out with my backpack and I breathed in the morning fresh air as I started walking towards my bus stop. I could feel that this was going to be a great day.