Verity

"They seemed nice!" my mother says after we got back inside looking straight at me with those disappointed eyes of hers. She wants me to be like the girl next door, I know it, even if she didn't make eye contact. I put that down to shyness, and I know for a fact my mother would easily take someone a little shy than me any day. "Weren't they nice?"

"Yup" I reply, waiting for her to stop the analysis so I can go back upstairs. She always does this, analysing, after everyone we meet. I always think it's because she either wants another opinion on everything she thought about them, or more likely that she wants to find everything bad about them so that she can feel better about herself. It's all a façade - the niceness - my mother is not nice and, in my mind, never will be.

I was right about the neighbours - acting like do-gooders until they get to know everything. Amy will fit right in with Henrietta as soon as she understands the school and everyone in it.

Why do I have two years of school left? Why does my stupid school have a sixth form? I hate my life so much sometimes but all I can blame it on is myself for not making friends in the first place and not being normal of course. Are you noticing a pattern yet? Yes, you're right; everything is irrevocably my fault and will always be, no matter what I do. If I had parallel universes, everything would still be my fault – that's just who I am – and I can't change it. I will never be able to change it.

"So, Verity - me and Mark." Fucking hell. It's always going to come back isn't it? She's never going to let it go, just taunt me with the idea that she's going to make me relate to him. I've never thought about it, when the vicar asks if anyone has an objection, because, well, I've never heard of anyone who would have the intention of doing that, but I guess things change and become more complicated. For the record: I'd never actually do that; Henrietta and the whole Robinson family would have a field day for one. I would just create a spectacle of myself, as my mother says, and nobody wants that, especially me. "We're getting married on New Year's Eve! Isn't that exciting?"

I nod, forcing another smile upon myself. She'll never listen if I try and tell her again; there's nothing I can physically do to make her understand. I just going to have to hope that I'm wrong or that her mistake won't get me shipped off to some boarding school somewhere.

"I know that it's only a few months away," three to be exact; it's October and the middle of the school term. "But I think that it's so fitting and romantic, don't you think?" Her beady eyes are fixated on me, suffocating me in her gaze. She's doing this all on purpose, so that if I say something, it'll appear like I started the argument not the other way around. She's like a little kid in so many ways.

"Yes, of course!" I'm giving her exactly what she wants and the opposite at the same time. I can see the frustration that I'm not retaliating but also the surprise that I'm going along with her immature fantasy. Because realistically that's all it is, a juvenile idea of perfection that will only end in tears and disappointment. I can't help but relate.

X

I spot them before my mother has to call me down. This day really couldn't get any better could it? They stride through the door and I relish in the fact that, just this once, I can roll my eyes for real instead of hiding it. I don't know why they're all here at once, but I can sure as hell guess: the wedding plans.

"Verity?" That's my cue. I carefully pull my legs back over the grey slate roof tiles and climb through my bedroom window. My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I was up here but, like with so many things, I don't tell her.

I slowly make my way downstairs to the worst company I could possibly make up: My mother (of course), the formidable Henrietta, Mrs Robinson, and Mark, the now-fiancé. It still hurts to say that, but I'm sure I can get used to it if my mum's going to bring it up every time she's bored enough to speak to me.

"Oh wow! That's a beautiful ring!" Mrs Robinson is just as posh as my mother and sometimes I wonder if they're twins, they act so similar. "You chose well Mark!"
Mark and his weasel face nod his head politely with that weasel smile that makes me feel sick. To be honest this whole setup makes me feel sick.

"Oh hello Verity! How are you?" Mr Robinson asks when she sees me. When it comes to open ended questions like these, I can't help but still try to look for the right answer instead of the real one. It's like I secretly hope that every question I'll ever be asked is multiple choice or something. Mrs Robinson combs through her dyed blond hair with her manicured nails whilst she waits for me to answer, making me hate her even more.

"I'm fine thanks Mrs Robinson, how are you?" I give the same smile I did to Henrietta last night. Speaking of her - she's currently sat down on one of the expensive velvet sofas not at all looking hungover whatsoever. I don't get it - she's like some sort of robot or something.

"Oh, I'm great, but I don't expect as much as your mother!" Mrs Robinson nudges my mother and they laugh together while Mark and Henrietta politely smile and I'm there like the fucking mess I am. I sit and watch quietly from the chair nearest the door. This is going to take a while.

Why can't my life be different? Why can't I actually enjoy it? Why am I so miserable all the time?

At the times when everything really reaches an all time low, I cry, eat nutella and wonder why the hell I was put in this body. Why am I the one to endure my mother and her stupid façade lifestyle? What is there to gain from doing that? What the fuck can offer the world with this kind of a life? If I believed in God (I think it's pretty obvious how I feel about this), I'd ask even more questions about why I'm here. I don't understand why this has to be me and I'm beginning to think that there's no point to anything anymore. I mean, look at it, what is the point of life? To be happy? To gain money? To be successful? I don't understand why this matters; we all die in the end so what's the point of gaining happiness or money or success? It won't matter then so why should it matter now? Why does anything matter anyway?

I'm just being stupid now. I'm here and that's what I'm just going to have to deal with. I should be grateful for what I've got (even if it does feel like jack shit) and I shouldn't be moping around having mid-life crises at sixteen years old. 

"So, I asked you here because I really need help if we're going to have the wedding on New Year's Eve!" Shove it in my face any more? She looks at me as she says it, like it's become a contest to see how much she can push me before I break. Have I ever explained how immature she can be? I can see Mark noticing this coded message, as he breaks into a weasel smirk. As it always does, I feel small and like I'm being thought of as some juvenile kid with a big imagination. You know the one you see in films like Elf where the other characters are secretly laughing at how stupid the main character is but go along with their ideas because they mean well, and they don't know any better. Sometimes I wonder what it's liked to be loved.

"Oh wow! This is exiting!" For some reason, Henrietta's comment really does it for me. It's like she's acting like the perfect daughter; the one my mother wants to have, not me. I feel my blood rising in temperature and suddenly, I need to get out. I need to get out of this fucked up situation. I need to feel like I'm not being suffocated by my own home and the people in it. I just need to leave.

"I, I just realised that I've actually got plans with the new girl next door and I'd hate, you know, to disappoint her." I don't know where the lie came from, but I'm breathless and stumble out of the door ignoring the boggled stares. They'll get over it.

What now? I can't just go to the park again, that would be stupid and pointless. I can't really entertain the idea of wandering aimlessly around the town and fuck! They're in the living room AKA the room with a window that sees into next door. They'll know if I don't go and I really don't want to give them anymore to laugh at. I really am a mess aren't I?

I take a deep breath and make my way to the door of the house next door. I've got no choice but to have to go along with my amazingly thought out lie. Honestly have you ever met anyone as clever and careful as me? Amy will be fine anyway, if she's anything like Henrietta. I can deal with this, I mean, I've technically had to deal with this my whole life, so this time shouldn't be any different, should it? I cross my fingers behind my back, but not obvious enough for my mother or the neighbours to see.

The man I saw before – Will – opens the door almost immediately after a ring the doorbell. He's got messy dark hair and wearing an old band t-shirt like yesterday. Another thing my mother commented on in her great analysis of the new neighbours. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

"Hi, it's Verity, you know from next door," I make my voice sound as cheery as possible "I was wondering if Amy would like to..." Would like to what? Come on Verity – what? What?! "...Go shopping with me?"

It comes out as a coherent question but all I can think about is how screwed I am if he, or Amy, says no. Let's just say that my mother would be extremely angry at my poor decision making.

"Erm... I don't know" He rubs his eyes like he's just got up despite it being at least 10 o'clock and turns away from me. Please say yes, please. "I'll just have to ask her."

I take a deep breath and try to figure out a plan B as he calls Amy downstairs. At this point I have no idea what that would include as I told them that Amy had already said yes, so anything different than us going out would look really bad.

Am I a bad person? I decide quickly that yes, I am; I'm currently using my new neighbour who I don't know to get out of the house because of my issues with my mum's weasel fiancé. I'm realistically only thinking about myself here, which cannot make me into an angel however you phrase it.