Amelia's Tale of Hair and Heartbreak

Amelia Ferarah is 13 years old. Going to Pottsville Middle School and having a crush on George Walez she is a normal girl. She's a normal girl until a stressful event when her grand mother dies, then things get hectic. For some reason she deals with this event with an odd tactic. But after she's stopped grieving, she can't stop this habit. She wants to hide this habit from her family, but what if it gets out of control. She had a shot at George, but will this destroy it?


2. Home

As the bus goes past my house and stops at the corner I grab my backpack and trudge towards the front. Maneuvering legs and hands and faces and backpacks strewn across the isle. I reach up and twirl my earring for lack of something to do and my fingers find my hair. I twirl it around and around. My finger slip off the strand and I exit the bus. I walk down the sidewalk towards my house and I twirl my hair again. I'm probably knotting it, oh well. The hair snaps out of the he'd and is left in my hand. I let it go to the ground and walk to the house. The front of my house is as boring as it gets, really. It has a white door with windows down it and an absolutely boring siding color. Green. It had rocks for the half wall on the outside and I mean, it is pretty, but... Boring. I walk to the door and open it, I step into a foyer and ditch my backpack and shoes. I run up the stairs to my room and pick up my laptop. It wasn't mine, it as my moms, but it was almost mine. I used it all the time and she hadn't picked it up for about a year. I log onto ProfilePerfect. Its like Facebook, but more modern. My friend, Ella Milton, had sent me a message.


Hey Amelia. How are you doing with your Grandma gone? I don't like you sad like this. Now, cheer up and call me with a video so I can see your beautiful un-tear streaked face. 


I look at the message and smile. I grab my phone from my desk and call her turning on the video icon. She picks up immediately and smiled.

"No tears now missy." She says seriously.

"Fine." I reply and look to the door as mom knocks and enters.

"Do your homework Amelia Jase Ferarah." She tosses the backpack onto the bedroom floor and I growl. She closes the door as I go to grab it. She is silent as she too does the problems, I start glancing up at her she is deep in thought. I reach up and twirl my hair, purposefully pulling it out this time. When I did, it felt odd. It hurt, but after it was done, I felt better, not exactly happier, but like I was less sad. I twirl around another strand and I follow it up to the root and felt where it was. Behind my left ear. I pull it out. I do my homework but twirl my hair when I am doing it. Ella looks up at me. I don't really pay attention so much until she keeps doing it. 

"Do you know the answer to 32?" I ask, looking up, catching her staring.

" Um, yeah." She looks down and flips to 32. "It's y-22+x z=4,830." She says.

"Yeah, thanks." I dare a look out of the corner of my eye at her. She's looking at me. I pull my hand down, and grab a piece of ribbon from an old hair tie on my bedside table. To distract my fingers. I continue to do my math, I stop at several problems to write them down on a seperate sheet of paper for my mom to look at later. My fingers drop the ribbon and twirl my hair. Ella looks us. After a while she asks,

"Are you pulling your hair out?" This question takes me by suprise and I stutter,

"Y-no." I realize it sounded like yes. "No." I correct myself.

"Okay," She looks at me oddly. "Okay, well I've got to get ready for soccer."

"I thought you practiced on Tuesday." I say, thinking that today is Monday.

"No, Coach Taylor changed it to Mondays."

"Um, ok."

"Yeah, bye."

"Bye." I say and shut my video off and end call. 

In finish my math in silence.

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