On Her Own

On Her Own Briana

Looking out the window I roll my eyes and blurt, "Do I have to do this?"

"Yes, you have to," my mother responds as she looks back at me in her rear-view mirror, "And you're going to be polite about it. It's not a big deal, anyway. These people are your age; you even go to school with most of them."

"I know. It's just..." Suddenly my shoe seems really interesting.

"Just what, Sarah?" A frown creases her brow, an annoying look that only a parent can master.

"I don't know, never mind." I decide to let it go and be the ' polite young lady' people expect me to be. "This could be fun...I might even make a friend." Remember, make her believe you. My mom grins and stops for a red light, "That's my girl."

I guess I'm what you call an ideal daughter. I clean my room, and don't argue with my parents. Against contrary belief I do have friends, and I get straight A's every report card. For a 15-year- old, I'm living a pretty admirable life. That is, only to people outside of school.

In school, I'm what people classify as a dork. Yes, I wear glasses, yes I don't date, and yes, I hate rap music. No, I don't talk back to the teachers, no I don't flunk every single test and have my daddy pay my way out, and no, I don't act like a miniature Christina Aguilera.

Those jobs are for the popular rich girls. Quite frankly, I don't want to be popular. I enjoy knowing that I do things on my own, and also enjoy staying away from those who can't.

So as the story goes, I was chosen to help tutor these exact people.

Darn my good grades and manners. It's not as though I haven't given them a chance. We've been in the same classes since middle school. Ever since then, I've been trapped with the offensive, stuck-up group. Just because they have money and are fabulously pretty, it somehow gives them the right to treat me like dirt. They don't care that they're arrogant. As long as something's in it for them, nothing else matters. Including people like me.

Avoid contact, avoid mockery - my motto.

But now my day has finally come. "Hi. I'm Sarah."

"Yeah." Rachael, my tutee, stands in front of me with her arms crossed.

Look at her, with her perfect blond hair, her perfect clothes, and perfect teeth. She must think she's better than me. Ugh. I give a small nod; thankful only one individual was assigned to me. The program ended up having more volunteers show than expected. I, on the other hand, was not a volunteer. My mom jumped at the chance as soon as she heard. Of course I didn't protest, I have an image to uphold.

"One hour left to go," I repeat, trying to capture Rachael's attention.

"I heard you."

"Okay," I peek over at Rachael's paper, "So far we have completed...nothing?" Puzzled, I look over at her, "We've been here for two hours, what have you been doing?"

"Thinking of how bad your hair looks." She leans forward now, determined on whatever she was going to say. "You know, if you just added some brown lowlights, it might actually look like a real color."

I shake my head, "You want it so bad, you do my hair."

"Okay." She bluntly says.

I blink in surprise, and almost smile. Almost. "Really?"

Playing with her hair, she sighs and answers as though it's nothing, "Daddy says I have to be nice."

I slowly nod, my momentary happiness gone, "Whatever." I pull out my novel again. If she doesn't want to learn, there's no way I can make her.

"Sarah, how did it go?"

"Good. Everything went smoothly." Horrible, it went horrible.

"How do you like your student?"

"She's really nice, I can see she has a lot of potential." I hate her, get me out.

"That's great, Sarah." My mom smiles and absentmindedly adds, " Do you want to invite her over sometime?"

"Sure. That would be great." No, are you crazy?

"All right," her smile grows greater and she continues with her dinner. The perfect answers. I have had several sessions with Rachael so far, and I might actually be making progress. She's trying a little more now, and she's not always picking on me. Some one knocks on my bedroom door, and I call for them to come in.

"There's a girl on the phone for you," my dad smiles. "She says her name is Rachael." He hands me the phone and almost skips out of my room.. I can tell he's pleased.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

A long pause. "So. Why did you call?"

"I have nothing better to do, and no one else would answer the phone. I need answers to the math homework, too." I detected no hint of embarrassment.

I roll my eyes but say, "I'll give them to you tomorrow." I'm a great tutor.

"Mmmm." Another pause, "Daddy! Uh, hold on, Sarah." I hear muffled voices on the other line and then a door close. "Wanna go shopping?"

"I don't have any money right now." I was slightly uncomfortable.

"My dad just gave me my money. We could do your hair!"

I cringe at her voice, "Would there be enough?"

"He just gave me two-thousand dollars. It should be enough."

I ignore the sarcasm, "Two thousand!?"

"Yeah," a beat, "I'm not going to see him for two weeks. He' s a businessman. You know, the traveling, long hours. It's all been heard before."

I nod to myself, not bothering to ask what exactly he does. "Never mind about the homework thing, I don't feel like copying. "

I understand this meant she didn't want to be seen talking to me. Hearing footsteps on Rachael's end I ask, "What are you doing?"

"Seeing how long it takes for me to walk across my entire house." I sit there, not sure what to say.

"Ohmigod!"

"What?" I hold the phone away from my ear. She's a very loud girl.

"There's this totally cool room that I've never seen before!"

"Oh," I sigh.

"My mom's home," I hear a door open. "She's been gone for a month. Hi, mom!"

I didn't hear a reply, "Should I go?"

"Um, could you stay?"

"Sure. I mean, if you want." It sounded like she actually wanted to talk to me.

"...Only because I have nothing better to do, of course." She didn't sound very convincing.

The next day at school I didn't speak to Rachael. We didn't even make eye contact. During one of our passing periods, though, I saw a group of girls walk up to her, "You didn't call anyone last night. Are you, like, mad or something?"

"Mm, no. Daddy took me to dinner, is all." She walked away then, leaving the girls to whisper. How odd.

Saturday was gone as soon as it came. All I know is that I now own over two hundred dollars worth of shoes, and my hair is a darker brown.

It all went so fast, I just wish I could remember more. I did see a different side of Rachael; a better side. Sure, she can throw money in my face and know it didn't make a difference in her bank account, but the fact that she went with me was the amazing part. Scarily enough, I'm starting to like Rachael. It's the end of another tutoring session. I think we actually accomplished something today. I don't really know.

It's so weird how diverse Rachael can always be. I've seen her act differently around three different groups. With her parents, she's a sweet, innocent girl who doesn't mind the fact they are never around. With people at school, she's a smart aleck who knows her world is perfect. With me, she seems to be an actual person. Her selfish tendencies do come out, but other times she seems as though all she needs is someone to care for. The latter is the Rachael I enjoy being around. We're hanging out more and more, I've even been invited to sit with her at lunch. I haven't taken up the offer, I really should be doing my homework...

I close my book and prepare to head home when Rachael puts her hand on my arm, "Can I stay at your place tonight? My house is starting to seem really empty. Neither of my parents has been home for over a week. I guess they thought the other would be there. Or maybe they don't care."

I was taken back, "A week?" She nods, so I continue, "Of course."

She had a small smile on her face, a very rare occurrence.

We just finished watching a movie and flipping through infomercials when Rachael says she's tired. I agree it's getting late, and we climb into our sleeping bags. I'm almost asleep when a soft sobbing noise comes from my right. At first I think its Rachael laughing, so I ask what's so funny. I get no reply, so I turn on my light.

I'm surprised to find Rachael's eyes red and puffed, her cheeks and pillow wet. "Rachael, what's wrong?"

Silence.

"Rachael?"

Another sob.

"Do you want me to get someone?" I'm kind of worried now.

She shakes her head.

"Do you want me to call your parents?" Another stream of tears rushes out, and she keeps repeating, "Sorry, so sorry. I'm so sorry. I...so sorry..."

"Why? Why are you sorry?" Everything that happened today flashes through my mind. Nothing seems to fit. "What's wrong?"

Another run of 'sorrys' spill out.

"Don't apologize. What happened?" I move closer to Rachael and offer a hug.

Immediately she clasps on as though I'm her whole world. So little that I know.

Eventually I'm able to calm her down, and get some answers out. I don't stop holding her, though, I'm afraid she'll somehow break.

Apparently, I'm her only real friend - everyone at school is too busy agreeing with her to actually hear what she's saying. Her parents, who should be her main support system, are never around. (To me, this part sounds great). A weekly check and they've done their job. Money is controlling her life, she says, and she wants out. Out from school, out from her life, and out from this world.

When I think she's said everything that needs to be told, I offer sleep, which she takes right away. For me, however, this is the first night I never even close my eyes. I spend the night thinking.

Tomorrow I'll get Rachael some professional help. I hope she knows that I will always be there for her. After all, that's what a friend is for.