Chapter 2: Better Days

I stop vaping and pull out a piece of mint gum. I'm nervous my mom will find out. Chomp... chomp...chomp. I can hear my teeth grinding in my ears.

"Selah, please don't tell anyone about my shoplifting today," I say before we part ways.

"Yeah, no worries. I deleted your cop lecture photos anyway—all but one. I had to keep one for the hell of it," Selah smirks.

"Delete ALL of them. I don't want anyone to know about my issue. Especially Sammy. Like I need a sister lecture," I roll my eyes.

"Nat, just tell me why you do it. Why do you shoplift?" Selah asks.

"Well, one, it's easy. I haven't been caught yet. And number two, I'm not telling you about number two," I say.

The truth is I've been shoplifting more than the things I want. I've been lifting canned goods, bread, and milk. I drop them off at Chad's house. His dad just lost his job. And money is tight. So, I've been shoplifting groceries for them for a few months now. Selah doesn't need to know about their hardships. I've even dropped off a few cans over to her place in the middle of the night.

I want to be a good person. But I feel like something is missing inside. Something bigger than myself. If I or someone else could help me find that inner spark, that inner whatever it is. Maybe I would be okay.

For now, Selah doesn't need to know the truth. That I shoplift and donate, lift, and donate. I can't afford to help people. And if my peers knew, I'd be labeled a 'good girl.' And I know I'm not one. I leave Selah. I head inside and find Sammy.

"I bought you something, Nat," Sammy says.

She tosses bubblegum at me—my favorite flavor of pure bubblegum goodness.

"Thanks, Sammy."

"You're welcome, Nat," Sammy smiles.

I tuck the packet of bubblegum into my purse. I feel the sunglasses that I bought. I didn't give the other pair to Selah. Oh well, she didn't even know about them. The sunglasses have pink heart shapes all over them. I hand them to Sammy.

"Here, sissy, these are for you," I say.

"Oh, thanks, Nat. I just broke my shades this morning," Sammy comments.

She tries them on and places them on her head. As usual, everything looks perfect on her. Those glasses would make my head look like Jupiter. As if that'd be attractive.

"Natalie, don't look at me like that," Sammy yells. She knows I'm comparing myself to her.

"What?" I play dumb.

"Don't... what... me. You look good in everything you wear too," Sammy tries to comfort me.

Sammy and Selah have ganged up on me in the past. They've tried showing me photos with compliments. They've tried this and that. Buying me sexy underwear, giving me new dresses, and taking me to makeovers. Nothing satisfies me.

I'm never going to look like "them." Them is everyone else, who isn't me. The popular girls from school or famous celebrities with their lips smacking hard on TV. I don't like celebrities. They are skinny, perfect, and have clothing lines named after them. They even have perfumes dedicated to their dogs.

I want to be one of them. Plastered on the cover of a magazine. Looking perfect, thin, and with my life together. But that simply isn't me.

I'm stressed. Stressed and poor. My jaw hurts again. My secret habit is to bite myself on my forearm until I bruise. I'm not trying to hurt myself. I need to relieve the tension in my jaw. Gum can't always fix the clenching, grinding, and oral sensation that biting myself can.

"Natalie, hello in there?" Sammy says, snapping me back into my imperfect life.

"What? I love my new sunglasses too," I pull out my cheetah patterned shades. I put them over my eyes. Tears start to come. I open up the bubblegum Sammy gave me.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I lie to getaway.

"Meet me here when you're done," Sammy says.

"Okay," I say out of habit.

I run to the bathroom. I splash water into my face. I spit the gum into the toilet. I lift the sleeve of my sweater and bite three times in the same spot. A bruise starts to form. Ouch... I hurt myself again. Dumbass.

I grab rubbing alcohol and pour it over my wound. I find a band-aid and hide my bite with the biggest patch I can find. I pull my sweater down, so Sammy won't see my arm. I can't let her know I've started biting again.

"I'm back, Sammy," I say.

"Great, I have some news to tell you. I got a job." She stares at me.

"Where?" I ask.

"At the Penna Bakery. I'm going to make donuts, cookies, and bread," she finishes.

"Congrats, Sammy," I tell her. I hug my sister.

Why do I always look like a loser compared to her? She can always tell when I compare myself to her. Maybe I should get a part-time job too.

"There's more, Nat. I told them about your baking skills. And they want to interview you tomorrow," Sammy says.

"Thanks, Sammy. Not sure I can go. I'm giving horseback riding lessons tomorrow," I remind her.

"This is a weekend bakery job they are hiring for. Like 3-4 hours a week," she says.

"I will think about it. Thanks," I say. I head to my room. I shut the door behind me. I sit on my bed and snuggle my orange tabby cat, Cinnamon. I fall asleep dreaming of better days to come.