This essay has a total of 1679 words and 7 pages.
“Prom is approaching, and I’m not ready,” I think to myself. “I haven’t bought my dress yet, my shoes, or made any appointments. I don’t even have a date! I can’t say I blame the guys around here,” I mumble while feeling very sorry for myself. “I’m very predictable. I do the same things every day! I wake up, get ready for school, walk outside to my freezing cold car and scrape off the windows, and head off to school. I wish Dad would let me park in the garage. I’m the one that has to leave the house at 7:00 a.m. It is more work for me, though. I don’t think anyone really notices, or cares. I only see Dad about twice a week when he comes home from work earlier than normal.” I roll out of bed, and stare at my beeping alarm clock with glowing red numbers. Stretching up to the sky, I think, “I can’t be late for school anymore or the teachers will give me detention. Father would not be pleased.”
While exploring my closet, the only outfit that is hanging is a white turtleneck, with a green vest, and dark green jeans. I pull it out of the closet and hang it up next to the shower. A warm shower actually seems like a good idea. After I’m finished with my shower, I put the out-of-style turtleneck and vest on, and squeeze into the size 5 jeans. “I’m just lying to myself by thinking these things fit. I’d be much better off with a size 8 or 9. Maybe if Mom was still here, I would have some sense of fashion. I really don’t know how I’m supposed to dress. I don’t think Dad would even consider helping me out. He’s too busy with his more important patients.”
I scrape off the dirty windows of my old, rusty car and begin to drive to school like any other day. I pass the cheerleaders giggling in their pretty skirts to the right, and the cute guys following them, as usual. “I bet they all live normal lives,” I whisper to myself before turning on the radio to my favorite station.
After sitting through my first four hours of classes, I realize that almost every girl is looking through a prom magazine, or gossiping about other people. “I can’t take this anymore. I need to go home,” I guess. “Tuxedos, prom dresses, appointments… I think I’m going nuts.”
I tear out a piece of college ruled paper and write myself a note, excusing me from my last three boring classes.
Holly has a doctor’s appointment today at 12:00 p.m. She will not be returning to school for the rest of the day. Sorry if we have caused any inconvenience.
“That looks good! I keep getting better at forging things! Dad will never notice. He has never really written me a note. The offices don’t know that I’m actually writing all of them. I could probably write a letter using Mom’s name, too. They might catch on to that, though. She died of cancer a little more than three years ago.” The usual pangs of sad memories shoot through my stomach. I quickly fold up the note and shove it into my back pocket and rush out of the classroom.
Throwing my note into the attendance office’s excuse box on the way, I frantically run out to my car. After a couple of false starts, my old 1988 Chevy Nova finally turns over. It roars and smokes, but it still moves when I step on the gas. That’s all I care about. Driving faster than usual, I swerve around the hot, paved road trying to find my favorite tape and hoping no cops will pull me over.
“Safe and sound,” I say as I roll into my driveway listening to my 1990 Enigma tape. I slam my door and run up to my room crying because I’m so frustrated with school, and prom, and my dad. Shuffling around in my dark room, I find the phone and dial my grandma’s phone number. “Oh good, it’s ringing,” I say, short of breath.
“Hi Grandma. It’s Holly! How are you?”
“I’m tired. Mack and I played Bingo until 2:00 a.m. last night. What’s wrong, Dear? Why aren’t you in school?”
“Do you care about me?”
“Of course I do. Why would you ask a silly thing like that?”
“No one really does. No one has asked me to prom. Grandma, I’m all alone in this world. You are the only one who is ever there for me and will gladly talk to me.”
“Honey, I have to go. Mack is here. Stop by my house tomorrow after school and we’ll have a little talk.”
“Okay, I’ll be there,” I say sadly.
I hang up the pho
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