~Acceptance~

Sometimes we don't look like everyone else. I know that much at least.

Only why should we be judged and belittled for being "lesser" than others when it comes to superficial regards? I just got denied a job as a hostess just for the fact that I am ugly. How ridiculous is that? They said it would make their customers sick.

A man bumps into me on the street knocking me out of my thoughts. His hat falls off and hits the ground as he apologizes, scrambling to gather his hat from the brick sidewalk.

Red hair, like me.

A mop of red, curly hair sat mockingly on top of his head. He quickly shoved his hair up inside his hat so to prevent anyone from seeing the monstrosity.

Freckles, like me.

I notice his face, hands, and arms are peppered with light beige dots across his almost translucent skin: freckles. Oh, how his pallor made me feel nauseous.

I see where the world is coming from when it comes to our looks. My tremendous height, blemished skin, ginger hair... It is curious, to say the least. Many consider it grotesque.

I accept it as a minor inconvenience. Yes, I could cover my countenance with makeup and hair with black dye, but why bother when I cannot do anything for my height? If one ugly thing is apparent, there is no use in covering up because even just one thing will put one down here, in the bog.

I stare at my feet, scuffing the bricks with my boots as I walk down the bustling street. I make a right down an alley to see a small house with a straw roof and woven paneling on the outside. My house.

I push the curtain to the side that covered the front entryway to see my two younger brothers fighting over their toy for the fourth time this week while my baby sister somehow managed to lay fast asleep in her crib.

"Gwyn, sweetheart, thank god you're home. Might you aid me with preparing dinner? The twins have been fighting over that nonsensical bear all afternoon," my mother said, cutting onions while bent over the short table in the corner.

"Elli! Ev! Just share him," I say turning to the boys.

"But I had it first!" Elliot cries.

"So? You can't hog it if it's ours!" Everett retorts, ripping the bear from his twin.

I raise my eyebrows at them. "Well, if you continue to fight over it, neither of you will have it."

The boys' eyes widen in horror as Ev yells, "You can't take away our only toy!"

Elli follows right behind with, "You don't even play with toys anymore!"

"I very well can! And how do you know that? Either way, I doubt you want to test and see if I am lying or not, right?"

"Fine. You can have it first E," Elliot says, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout.

"I'll give it back eventually, E. Just not today," Everett says trotting over to his cot, cuddling the bear.

"HEY! No fair!" Elliot says getting up to run after him.

"I give up..." I breath out heading over to my mother. I hang an apron from my neck and tie it around my back. "Are we making the same as usual?"

She looks up at me with her dull grey eyes—I remember once they were a crystal blue before the twins were born. "Yeah, could you get the spices? I'll start on the dough."

Every night we have the same thing: rosemary and onion bread. Once in a blue moon we have olive oil with the bread, but right now we only have water to help it down. I notice as my mother wipes the back of her hand across her face leaving a streak of flour in it's wake. All this woman ever does is cook during the day whilst dealing with the boys and Anne, and then at night she goes elsewhere. She never tells where it is she runs off to every night and comes home in the morning with a small bag of flower, spices, or vegetables. I asked once when I was younger, but she said that if it keeps us healthy with food in our stomachs then I need not know where she goes.

After shoving the bread in the oven, we started boiling the water for the hot tea. We collapse down into two completely different wooden chairs in unison letting out deeps sighs of relief.

"Oh, Gwyn! I almost forgot!" Mother scrambles from the chair and over to a pile of mishap papers. "That school you applied to sent a letter!"

"Really?" I ask excitedly, going to her side.

"Yeah! It's right... here!" She shoves a small envelope for a letter towards me.

The envelope quivers in my grip. I'm shaking. This is the moment that will decide my entire future. My name is delicately written in beautiful cursive on the front. I flip it over to see the silver wax seal on the envelope is imprinted with a swan with it's wings spread outwards. Underneath the swan is the name of the school, "Heartbridge," written in all capital letters. I carefully slide my thumb underneath the closed part and begin opening the envelope with painful slowness. The world seems to be moving in slow motion.

I pull the letter out, dropping the envelope to the floor, and begin to unfold it.

HEARTBRIDGE
The School for the Most Rich and Intelligent
320 Oakwood Lane, Primrow, K'aina

Miss Gwynerie Iona Murphy,
               We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Heartbridge School for the Most Rich and Intelligent. As you already know, our orientation for the freshman will be in precisely two weeks, the first of next month. You are advised to bring everything you will need for living at Heartbridge as most will not be leaving again until semester break.
               We understand that you, Miss Murphy, requested scholarship funds in order for you to study at our prestigious school. Based on your scores from our placement test, we will provide you with the required money for the tuition and living costs, but you must acquire your own books and materials to study and learn with.
               We congratulate you on your acceptance and are excited to meet you at orientation.

Director of Admissions,
Fiona Bergaude

"Well? What does it say!" My mother asks.

"I got accepted... I GOT ACCEPTED!" I let out a small screech as my mother mirrors my ear-to-ear grin.

She pulls me into an embrace and whispers into my ear, "I am so proud of you, my sweet daughter." Before pulling the bread from the oven she places a kiss on my forehead, which proved to be difficult due to her being much shorter than me.

We only have to wait a short time for the bread to cool a little before we can eat so I call the boys over to sit, while my mother goes to breastfeed Anne. The boys scarf down their bread so quickly that I am shocked that neither of ended up choking on their own tongues.

—-—

I slowly lower myself into the hot bath water, hissing inwardly to ignore it lightly burning my skin. I am second to bathe tonight so I must hurry myself so the water is still warm for the boys. After rinsing myself of the soap, I hop out and cloth myself again while calling for the boys to come take baths now. I hear them begin fighting again over who gets to go first.

I push the curtain aside that hides our bathing area and head over to my spot on the floor. We only have two cots and the crib, so I sleep on the floor at night when my mother leaves to do her nightly work. I wrap myself in the blanket that I've had since as long as I can remember.

I close my eyes, but when I reopen them, it's morning. Wow, it seems as though I barely blinked.

"Happy Birthday, Gwynerie!" my mother cheers running over to me seeing my eyes are finally opening. I sit up as she presents me with a small muffin that has a candle sticking from the top, ablaze. "You're 17! How exciting~"

The twins begin stirring and sit up rubbing the drowsiness from their eyes.

"Gwynnie?" Everett croaks out.

"Happy Birthday! I got you something, Gwynnie!" Elliot jumps up, suddenly awake. He pads over to Anne's crib and pulls a stuffed owl out from under it. "I found it in the park yesterday, and figured you would like it so you don't always threaten to take our toy since you would have one of your own!"

I stifle a giggle. "Thank you Elli, that's very sweet of you. No one is missing this beautiful owl right now though are they?"

"Maybe, but in that case, they should never have left it behind. Besides, if you gave it back, then you would miss it!"

"Will you have breakfast?" my mother asks walking towards the cupboard.

"Not today, besides I have this wonderful muffin. I have to go out to get my supplies. I already have a pencil, but I still need to get the books and materials that were on the list included with the letter from Heartbridge."

"Fine. Good luck, and don't get caught, alright?"

"Got it."

I put on my one pair of shoes and begin making my way back to the main street of town. In Tirmar, no one really owns much. After all, the name of our town does mean "Dead Land". Quite accurate if I do say so myself.

I walk into the town bookstore while slipping my jacket off and under my shirt. I give a short wave to the owner who's seen me plenty of times. They probably recognize me as the ugly pregnant girl who wears trousers rather than a skirt. Pregnant teens are all too common around here due to some shady figures walking about.

I pull out the small list of books as I walk up to a bookcase labeled, "Academic". This case is located opposite of where the owner stands, the perfect place to be out of sight. I grab the texts needed that were on the list concerning math, history, beauty, and business. I pull the jacket back out from under my shirt and neatly wrap the books in it before shoving it back under.

I begin walking back towards the entrance, but the owner stops me by saying, "Still haven't found that book of yours have you, I see?"

"Maybe next month?" I respond with a laugh, hurrying out before he asks me any more questions.

I'm all too familiar with this: I go to the bookstore with my jacket under my shirt, I wrap scholarly books in said jacket, I tell the owner that the book is yet to come in, and I hurry out before he has time to become suspicious. Honestly, I wonder how come he is yet to realize the missing works and how I've been like 9 months pregnant for over a year.

Being lost in my thoughts as usual, I bump into yet another person. I really should do something about my thought-wandering. This boy is probably not much older than myself, if he even is older at all. One thing I can tell for sure is that he is certainly not from around here based on his clearly stellar looks and physique. People like this don't exist around these parts.

"I'm so sorry, Miss! Let me help you with that," the boy apologizes, kneeling down onto the sidewalk. It took this much for me to realize that the jolt from our collision caused the books and jacket to all fall from my shirt and across the bricks.

I gasp and quickly kneel down, gathering up what he is yet to. "I'm sorry as well; I'm really so clumsy."

"Neat trick you have there with wrapping the books in a jacket and pretending to be pregnant," he notes with a wink.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I state plainly. "Now I must be going, farewell." I begin speedily marching down the street towards my dark, but safe, alleyway.

To my dismay, the boy was quick to be on my heels. "I believe you know exactly what I'm talking about." I continue my brisk walk as I ignore his accusations. "You stole those books didn't you?"

"No." He's not wrong, but I cannot—will not admit because who knows what could happen. I've never been caught, and I don't plan for that to change any time soon.

"If you didn't, then why do you hide them like that in your jacket?"

"I'm protecting them from the elements."

He glances around at the clear, sunny sky. "What? From the warm sunlight?"

"The covers may bleach."

"Yeah, maybe after a few years," he laughs.

I plant my heels into the ground, stopping hard, causing him to almost run into me from behind. I didn't want him seeing where exactly I live. "Do you have any other opinions to assert? Because I don't remember asking."

"Geez, cold-much?"

"You must not be from around here. Allow me to explain: people like you and me? We don't mix. Also, stealing is what many around here must resort to in order to survive. This, however, does not in any way mean that I stole these." Which you did, my conscience reminds me.

"Well, you got that spot on. I'm from Ethington. A middle class town across that river to the east."

"I'm aware of its location."

"Fine then. Allow me to walk you home, Miss...?"

"Certainly not, and I will not tell my name to someone that I never plan to speak to again in life nor death."

He placed his hands over the center of his chest while making a face of mock-hurt. "Cruel-much?"

I roll my eyes. "Goodbye now."

I begin to walk away, but he calls after me, "Wait, can I at least tell you my name?"

I spin mid-walk without missing a step. "Don't want to know, don't care to know."

I give him a curt wave with my lips pulled into a tight line as I make my way back to my home. I made sure to make a few wrong turns, loop around a few other houses, and pass my house multiple times before sneaking in to make sure that he is certainly not following me.

I really should begin packing for the orientation, but let's be honest: I don't have to pack more than one small bag. I'll also have to go back out tomorrow to get the other materials as I had planned before running into that insistent man-child.

Come to think of it, how come a beautiful person like him would talk to someone as ugly as me? Oh how the world is confusing in every possible way at every turn.